Sisters

Having a sister is the best gift in the world.  Right?  I don't have one but I do have two daughter's and I have watched them grow up.  As sisters and they are opposites and just alike, all at the same time.  One is loud; one quiet - one will tell you about it; the other will watch - take it all in.  One the instigator; one the peace maker.  I love watching them and I envy them just a little.  

I have sisters, too.  You know the ones, the sisterhood of motherhood, sisters in Christ, sisters as friends.  They add a great dimension to my life.  The creative ones inspire me, the talkative ones intrigue me, the funny ones make me laugh, the thoughtful ones may me cry and deep ones take me with them as we go deeper still.  

I have a hurt sister out there, a mad sister, an angry sister - an ex-sister.   She was once a friend but today I am feeling pain for her, like never before.  I want so desperately to reach out to her and I have wanted to all year.  I keep hoping for healing, hoping for an opening, a place to reach through the pain.  If there was one I missed it or wasn't ready myself and now I fear too much time has gone by and now I can't or won't. I feel all jumbled up  inside when it comes to her.  I hurt her.  I thought I was doing what I had to do, needed to do, to protect others, to keep others from being hurt.  But today, one year later, I'm still thinking about her, still looking back, still analyzing - wondering, did I do the right thing?

Last night I listened to a man - an ordinary man.  He is a husband, a dad, a farmer, a preacher.  You would never know by looking at his unassuming ways, his plain clothes, his stature that he has much to say, much less anything that I need to hear.  He is a kind man, you can see that you can hear it.  His tone of voice is kind, not too surgery soft, not the kind that makes me want to throw up, not condescending, the kind that make me want to . . .  well, I'll just leave that one to your imagination.  But kind, full of wisdom, says what needs to be said.  I don't know him very well, but I have been around him a little this past year - this man - unassuming, quiet, kind, is anointed to preach the Word of God.  Last night he talked about spiritual battles and that we do have an enemy that wants to destroy everything that is good, that is God, that is beautiful, and he talked about forgiveness. 

He's right, you know.  

Looking back I realized that I could have handled the situation better, I could have been bolder and told my sister, not with anger but with honesty, what the problem was, instead I tried to do it in a way that I thought was easier for me, and I lied to myself, for her.  Hoping she would understand, be okay with it.  Hoping that it would not destroy our friendship, turns out the truth was have served us both much better.  Now, in the year since, there has been a bevy of miscommunication, rumors, things taken out of context, you name it.  Just plain hurt, the accuser of the brethren has destroyed what was lovely, sweet, and beautiful and now is broken and never to be repaired.  Maybe we could talk and but after all this time how do you bring up all that stuff and work out this twisted mess?  I don't think you do.  And if someone feels that you betrayed them to the level that she feels I did to her, how do you get over something like  that, I don't think you do.  I think you move on.  I think . . .  you just move on.  Try to look honestly at yourself, forgive yourself, pray for forgiveness and blessings for her, and move on.  

I am so tired of this hurt, I'm just ready to move on . . .  or maybe go to the mountains or the beach.  

I'm having a beachy/mountain thing here this week.  I think it's because of BooMama, she's at the beach with her sisters, whether they're friend sisters or blood sisters I forgot but they're there and eating good and laughing and I want to go too.  I'm ready to get past this thing and go laugh real hard and cry while I do it.  Yea that's it, I want to laugh til I cry and then I want to sit and watch the waves hit the shore and smile at the memory of my youngest doing cart-wheels up and down the beach one year, the whole day I might add.  That was the year of the cart-wheel for her.  She cart wheeled to the car, when we got to the beach she cart wheeled out and up and down the beach all day.  I think she even cart wheeled through the outdoor shower and to the car, then slept like a baby the whole way home.  That was a good day.