Sisters
“Sisters make the best friends in the world.”
We gathered in her living room on a gray Wednesday afternoon. Outside the wind was colder than it should be on a late March day. I sat on the couch next to her younger sister. Across from us in a recliner, she sat, with a colorful quilt draped over the side of the chair. Only two years and a few weeks separated them in age, but they were not the same.
My friend was tall and always at work. In contrast, her older sister was more petite. Due to health problems, she didn’t get out much anymore. She sat with bright eyes, happy we had come to visit. Her radiant white hair was soft curling slightly around her ears as she mimed to us that she is sick of it and was finally getting it cut the next day.
“It looks fine,” her younger sister replied.
She shook her head in defiance and playfully dismissed her younger sister’s remark as nonsense.
I felt honored to be invited to sit with them on such a gray day. I was already learning something new about their lives. Like looking through an old photo album, their stories pointed to a different time. As they interacted I could see there had never been a dull moment between them. The older sister had a tracheotomy making speech difficult so we leaned in to interpret her gestures. But even without words, these sisters bantered back and forth as my friend began sharing old and funny stories.
We laughed at their sister stories. Now into their eighties, they recalled the frustration of sharing a tiny bed in a very small room. Being the oldest girls in a big family called for sharing. I got the impression this wasn’t always easy or fun, but as I sat with them I could also see the love that flowed naturally between them.
and I felt a little jealous…
I grew up with three brothers, but I always wanted a sister. I secretly envied my friends who had one. They had someone to share their secrets with. Someone who they could play dolls with or trade clothes. I was forced to settle for G.I Joe and Legos. Naive to the rivalry and comparison that often plagues the relationship of sisters I just knew I wished I had one.
Brothers were all I knew and they were not good at being sisters. I grew up racing the boys, as I called them. I ignored the skinned knees I received as I tried to keep up. Boys don't care about how you feel, they just want to know if you can play the game.
I wasn’t very good at being a boy, that became clear pretty early on with one of my biggest flaws. I hated creepy crawly things. Even ants would give me a fright. The boys never let me live down that fear. Most of my memories with them involve being chased by a brother carrying an ugly spider. I had a best friend named Christy who lived up the street, but I still missed not having a sister.
It wasn’t until I grew up and started a family did I finally feel that closeness I had always wanted. My first daughter Elaina was sweet and all smiles. Her blond hair curled up on the ends. At only 20 months old she became a sister to Lydia. She loved her little sister from the beginning. But as any mother of small children knows, sisters can mean well but end up hurting each other.
When Lydia came home from the hospital Elaina loved her intensely. We laugh now about how Elaina tried to lay on top of her newborn sister to get a better look at her. She thought her infant sister was a doll and tried to pull her out of the infant swing. I was constantly running, hovering, and interfering with her acts of loving the baby. Later as Lydia grew older she had to be watched carefully as well, because she was a terrible scratcher. If she didn’t like something her sister was doing she would draw blood. Keeping a careful eye on those two was exhausting.
For my girls, growing up meant matching comforters to go on their bunk beds. It meant American Girl dolls for Christmas and matching dresses for Easter. It also meant they might have separate beds, but Lydia would end up on Elaina’s bunk every night after lights were turned out anyway. Though they had received a lot of the same things they are very different from one another.
To love them equally is to love them uniquely. They cannot be compared, though sometimes they feel the pressure of comparison. It is almost impossible in life not to feel the mark your siblings leave around you. Sometimes there is an assumption: if one sister is a certain way, the other one is too. Or if one sister is talented in an area it runs in the whole family. But for their own part, I can say my girls strive to live their uniqueness out boldly. Still, at times, they admit they feel this social pressure.
Last Saturday was the Variety show. Elaina, my senior, had never been in a variety show. This year she really wanted to try out. I said, “But Elaina, you’ll have to sing.”
Singing is Lydia’s thing. As much as I have encouraged Elaina that she has a strong voice, she never believed me. But this year she has found her own courage to try new things to my surprise, she said, “Okay.”
Being dramatic and playing gutsy roles is something Elaina thrives at. To me, singing “Poor Unfortunate Souls” as Ursula, the Sea Witch from The Little Mermaid, would be a perfect audition piece for her. At first, when I mentioned it, she gave me the look.
You know the: Mom, are you kidding me? look.
But I persisted, “Elaina, it is a fun part and you get to do a lot of acting, and Lydia can be the Little Mermaid. You get to steal her voice.”
Now in real life, Elaina would not want to steal her sister's voice. But you couldn’t really blame her either, as she is forced to try to fall asleep to Lydia’s operatic crooning late into the night on a regular basis. An occasional thought might cross her mind…
“Okay, I will do it,” she said without pause.
And she set off to work on it. When we asked Lydia to join the act she looked to Elaina to be sure she was truly invited. Sisters have rivalries, it’s true yet underneath it all they really rally for each other. The look in Elaina’s eyes said it all.
She was open, she was inviting her younger sister to be her Little Mermaid self, so together they sang. Together they stunned the audience (this is the proud mother speaking). They were strong in their uniqueness and because her younger sister was there this older sister did something she never thought she could do.
She sang.
In the living room as I spent time with the pair of sisters now in their eighties I was reminded of the power of sisterhood. Beyond words their presence inspired strength in each other. I am sure they still could share stories of hurts and differences, but the years have washed over all of that. The faithfulness they have for each other has weathered the storms and all that remains now is love.
And laughter.
I never had a blood sister, but I have many friends who have become like sisters. I have sisters connected to me through marriage that I love dearly. We have grown up together. We have prayed together over the hurts and struggles of life, and I know I am stronger because of them.
To be fully known is to be seen as you truly are. That is risky. Some women are thrust into such a risky life from birth by having a sister. While the rest of us just wish we had someone that could really know us and yet still really loves us.
So if you are like me and you have never had a blood sister take a moment to thank the special women in your life who have loved you like a sister. Take a moment to thank God for those girls who have been there for you.
And for sisters: I hope you know how special you are to have one another. No matter how old you are, hold unto your love and faithfulness to each other. This is the bond of sisterhood.