Two weeks ago my brother made a simple cut on his table saw. He reached across to steady the board and before he knew it his hands were a bloody mess. I tried to call him once and e‑mailed him briefly, but aside from updates from my mother I haven’t talked to him directly.

Last week my sister and her husband were hired at a university in San Diego. He’s a philosophy student turned professor eager to embark on his life’s work. I sent them a brief congratulatory e‑mail. In her response she said some very nice things about me. I haven’t taken time to call or write back.

Last Saturday my brother had his 45th birthday. Although I thought about him off and on throughout the day, I never took the time to wish him a happy birthday. I doubt that he expected to hear from me.

Recently my dad and I played phone tag over a weekend, never speaking to one another directly. He called to touch base, or that’s at least what he said. It’s my turn to call back. That was about 10 days ago.

In the meantime I made dozens of phone calls asking people to volunteer for an outreach campaign at our church. Many hours have been devoted to rehearsals and meetings, leading a Bible study and Sunday worship, and a host of other details in a week of ministry.

While home I have watched a handful of Diamondback games, eaten several meals with the family and said hello to my son as we passed each other on the way somewhere. What’s more, I spent hours in front of this computer screen trying to find just the right words to say to you. It’s a responsibility I take seriously and enjoy immensely.

I love my family. I am proud of my brothers and sister. I have a good relationship with my parents. But I don’t talk to them nearly as often as I should, or as I should like. Life keeps getting in the way.

It is hard for me to admit this to you. I imagine you are either the kind of person who talks to his brothers and sisters every week–or you are the kind who has little relationship with them. Mine is a kind of loving neglect, if there is such a thing. I am not proud of it.

Perhaps there are more of you like me than I realize. Years ago I read an article by Carl Jung in which he wrote something like this: “What is most personal is most general.” I have never forgotten it, and found it to be one of the truest things I have ever heard.

The truth is, I’m a struggler just like you. I have a family I love immensely but often take for granted. So, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll wrap this baby up. It’s time for me to stop being a writer and start being a son, a brother and a father. You might want to do the same.