Cain and Abel, Ishmael and Isaac, Judah and Joseph, Rikki and Nate. Since the beginning of time, younger brothers have deserved what they received.

Like the other younger brothers of history, Nate was the good one.

Nate was smart, funny, musical, talented, and never made a mistake or got in trouble--not even when he drove dad's company car into the house at age 3. In elementary school, he was in the "Talented and Gifted" program in school, even though he could never open the back door to our vacation house in central Oregon.

I, on the other hand, was always grounded or spanked. I always did things wrong, never had any friends besides my imaginary ones, and never received recognition for anything I did. I couldn't join TAG because the school never asked me to. But at least I never had problems opening doors.

Until Nate was born when I was 17 months old, I was the oldest child, grandchild and niece. Everyone adored me and granted my every wish. When Nate and my cousins came along, I slowly faded out of the family limelight until I didn't receive much attention at all--unless one of my aunts needed a babysitter.

Even now, family conversations tend to revolve around Nate and what he is doing at Central Christian College of Kansas. All the family can talk about right now is Nate's girlfriend, Erinn, who lives in Wisconsin.

When I moved away to attend Multnomah, I found a life away from my brother. I realized my name wasn't "Hey, Rikki, where's Nate?" as it was during middle school and high school. No one at Multnomah came up to me to ask me where my brother was, as everyone in our youth group did.

In my years at MBC, I have learned that I am not Nate's keeper, I am just my brother's sister.