Tuesday, November 01, 2011

Sisters

I have three sisters.

R., Me, Sarah, and E.
I want to tell you about this one.


Sarah, at her most favorite place in the world.

And this one.
R., alternatively, "Little Cindy Lou Who"
They are the two sisters (and siblings) closest in age to me.

The Dynamic Duo
Who Stole My Camera
To Take This Picture
Just saying.


Sarah was born fourteen months after I was.  She entered the world in the way she meant to live her life:  in her own way, and in her own time. (A month late and backwards...)  She drove me CRAZY, doing everything that I did, but in her own way.  "Oh, you're going to suck your thumb?  Here, let me be even cuter and suck my fingers in a cute and unique way that people will find adorable.  And while I'm at it, let me potty train A YEAR EARLY at the same time as you, so you don't seem as special...er..."


R. was born fourteen months after that, and looked like a little angel, so much so that my parents were, in fact, convinced that she was an angel.  And that Sarah and I were simply the jealous older siblings who couldn't help but pick on our poor, innocent baby sister.

Until the day my mother walked up to find Sarah and I pinned to the side of her playpen, her tiny little fingers wrapped in our hair, pulling gleefully as we hollered.   She was also the one who threw the MOST EPIC temper tantrums of my childhood.

Yeah, she was also the curly haired moppet who EVEN NOW you can't see a baby picture of without cooing.  Yep.


Its funny, I never noticed how much Sarah's kids took after our side of the family until I looked at this.


As we grew up, and added five additional siblings, we were alternatively rivals and friends.  I was the mastermind behind our various plots, and they carried them out.  Of course, being the mastermind, I also did as much as possible to avoid getting caught, which may or may not have involved telling on them for carrying out the plans I came up with.

The three of us built a fort from the scrounged detritus of various neighbors spring cleaning garbage.  We made a business of selling tadpoles and friendship bracelets to neighbors for a quarter.  They drew on my dolls "Its not a pen, its makeup!" and did unspeakable things to our babysitters, and woke me up in the morning by singing their very own made up song "I've Got a Pain in My Butt...JUST LIKE LOVE" while bouncing on me.  We shared toys and books and a bedroom.  We made up crazy songs, and forced our parents to watch our performances.  We got "dailyen spankins" because my dad just assumed that my mother had used the phrase "you just wait until your father gets home!" at least fifty times that day, so he would pretend to spank us (especially R., she of the epic meltdowns) because we probably deserved real spankins anyway.  As we grew up, we were all three responsible for babysitting The Littles.  We (along with our friends The Tuckers) hunted our neighborhood for criminals, made up elaborate stories of the things and people that haunted the local wilderness, and made up "radio shows" using old cassette tapes and built in microphone on our boombox, which often consisted of our own personal renditions of Disney songs and commercials for Teen Spirit deodorant.

I remember, every time we fought, my mother telling us, "You should be kinder to your sisters, because someday, you are going to want them as your friend!"  "Telling" might be a bit of an understatement, since at that point, we three adolescent females in the house along with her OTHER four kids, my poor mother was quite... emphatic... in her lessons.  Some, less sympathetic people, might define it as hollering, on a regular basis, at three girls who were convinced that

NO ONE LOVES ME AND LIFE IS SO HARD AND I AM SO PITIFUL BECAUSE I AM A TEENAGE GIRL AND SO EMOTIONAL NOW I HAVE TO GO WRITE IN MY JOURNAL AND LISTEN TO POP MUSIC AND CALL MY BFF ETC ETC ETC..


I remember the first glimpse I had of the truth of my mother's words.  I was seventeen, and the three of us were on our first mission trip.  For reasons I still don't entirely understand, my sister's best friend (the Kimmy Gibbler of my teenage years, Love You Lynz!) was doing her very best to make me miserable.  Sarah finally asked me what was wrong, and when I told her (thinking she would be annoyed with me and tell me I was being stupid and over sensitive), she stood up for me, put herself between her friend and me, and said that no one picks on her sister.  Except her.  And R.

That still makes me laugh, especially because of the friendship I now have with this particular individual, who is like another sister to me.

When I got married, Sarah and R. stepped in, and made sure everything got done.  They would conference call with me (one from 80 miles away, the other from 600) just to see how I was doing.  We pray for each other.  We support each other.  And they are both wonderful, Godly women with so much wisdom and grace.  When things get tough, I always know I can call them, and trust them to help me get my head on straight.  I am so grateful for all of the memories we have together, but better than all of that is the fact that my mom was right:  they are amazing friends.

2 comments:

  1. Thanks for the kind words, Dorothy :)

    (you have no idea the restraint it took to not use a "nickname" here- haha)

    ReplyDelete
  2. Yes, thank you for that. ;)

    ReplyDelete