28 June 2011

Never Such Devoted Sisters

I don't know if I am supposed to put other people's blog posts in my blog without telling them. I'm actually very new to this, and I suppose it won't matter to my six followers. I was very moved by a post from Ann Voskamp at her blog "A Holy Experience." (Hint: if you click the title of this post it ought to take you to the post in question)

In her usual emotive and dreamlike way of writing Ms. Voskamp takes the time to stop and wonder over her two daughters and the special extraordinary ordinariness of a sisters' bond. The post could very well be about my two littlest sisters and the special friendship they have. But for me it was a bittersweet post because it was what my older sister and I should have been. We were inseparable in our childhood and into our teen years. We would laugh forever and we would fight often. I cannot count the times I was "banished from her room forever." I will never not laugh at the time I squeezed toothpaste in her hair. And when I was a baby she taught me how to scream in epic battles on the linoleum in the kitchen. But for all those times of fighting we had enough love to smooth it over, and enough laughter to cover the multitudinousness of our sins.

She was my best friend until I was nineteen years old, and even when she began to pull away from me I resisted turning on her too much because I believed this too would pass like the banishment, like the toothpaste, like the screaming fights. But it didn't. The shadow of a man stood between us. To this day, I cannot tell you why her husband hated me and my family. I cannot tell you what started it, and I cannot tell you how it progressed or why. As far as I can tell it stemmed from our concern over my sister and her family distancing themselves from the church. Whatever the cause her husband broke apart the bond of sisterhood, and I believe we both lost pieces of ourselves or at least bled some of our souls at this breaking. Like all things in this fallen world that God deemed unnatural, this brokenness won't be healed until Christ returns to gather me in his arms and heal the wound.

I don't often talk about this because to be honest I don't always think about it. The proverbial "they" say that time heals all wounds and that isn't true. Time just rubs the wound enough to create a callous or a metaphysical band-aid till Christ can heal us. I guess the sweet beauty of Ms. Voskamp's post opened the wound just enough that I can share a bit of myself. Thanks for listening.

4 comments:

Ben Ditty said...

Very moving. Reminds me of how my brother and I have drifted apart.

BerlinerinPoet said...

Thanks for the comment, Ben. Seems I touch on some of your less fond memories, like this, or hitting the deer. I'm sorry to hear about your drifting sibling.

Carrie said...

Am I allowed to say that I feel mildly satisfied that I can get to know YOU better now as well!?

BerlinerinPoet said...

Yes, you are definitely allowed to say that.