Friday, July 22, 2016

When Sisters Don't Share Blood

Taken from the Sisterchicks novels by Robin Jones Gunn.

Sadly, I have no recollection of the first time I ever saw my husband. But I have very early memories of meeting another significant person in my life.

When I was in the 6th grade, I remember spotting a round-faced girl who was wearing hot pink stretch-waist stirrup pants; they were so pink that I saw blue spots when I blinked. She had a big smile and a nervous giggle, and that giggle was so high-pitched that I’m sure I heard at least one dog whimpering. I thought she was silly. She thought I was prissy. Two years later, in the soprano section of the 8th grade chorus, we started a friendship.

Twenty-eight years later, it’s hard for me to think of a term that describes my kinship with this girl. We have clocked thousands of hours on the phone. (When we were teens, my father would pick up the phone after one of our marathon chatfests and say, “OW! It’s still hot!”) We made fun of each other’s crushes. We prayed for each other’s future husbands and wore dorky dresses in each other’s weddings. I was in the room when her first child was born. We rocked each other’s babies and put each other down as their emergency contacts on school forms. We each think of the other’s husband as a brother. I went to my knees when her father died; she returned the favor when my mother died. We’ve pondered the Bible together, and we’ve held each other accountable when we don’t turn to it quickly enough or often enough. Honestly, I can't quickly recall too many memories that don't include her. We’re each a witness to the other’s life. We’re sisters in Christ.

If you have a daughter—whether she’s a newborn or blowing out 50 candles on her birthday cake—pray that she will have a friend like this one. BE a friend like this one. 

Girls, we need each other.

“By definition, a 'Sisterchick' is a 'friend who shares the deepest wonders of your heart, loves you like a sister, and gives you a reality check when you're being a brat.”  --Robin Jones Gunn 

Happy birthday to my Sisterchick!

1 comment:

  1. Well, goodness ... there goes my mascara! Ditto to all of it! Love you!! (And for the love of everything holy and good, please NEVER let me wear hot pink stretch waist stirrup pants again.)