So....this went out today:
I'll be honest here: we were totally caught off-guard. We opened it up, and took a collective gasp, looking at each other in wide-eyed bewilderment. I think I was the first to break the stunned silence:
Getting my feet wet on this side of the Pacific.
| Beautiful drive over. |
| Waiting in line. |
| Waiting in line some more. |
| Trying to keep up with Josh. |
| The Olders. |
| The Seconds-- Second Sister, Second Brother, Second Daughter. |
| Oldest Daughter, Oldest Niece, Baby Niece. |
| The Twins. |
| Girls getting ready for the dance competition. Yes--there is video. |
Today, my sister joins me in the business of being thirty-something. As per her usual modus operandi, she took 4 years and 11 months to join me in this; her husband will be quick to remind me that she is {always} worth the wait.
Of this fact, I am well aware. I've heard often the story of the 4-year-old version of myself bursting through the door of our Ala Kapuna Place apartment on the day she came home from the hospital, flinging my backpack (and all niceties) to the floor, and tossing a token "Hi, Mom!" over my shoulder as I raced to the bedroom where she lay: my future playmate, sparring partner, secret-sharer, and accomplice in a very few, very minor crimes--I am, in fact, a quite boring and rule-abiding older sister. (And I also would give much to hear our mom tell this story again.)
Physically, we are nothing alike, aside from the identical subtle (and finely-tuned) expressions used to remind our husbands who is {really} in charge (lest they forget). Discreet death stares aside, my sister and I are opposites: I am the adorable and slightly squishy sister; she is the charming, beautiful runner whose mere presence can command a room--sometimes intentionally, sometimes not. She has both the honor and the burden of bearing a beautiful resemblance to Mom; when I look at her, I catch glimpses of our mother that make me both smile and fight back tears at the same time.
Growing up, she quickly established herself as the child with a mind of her own, not easily swayed by the preferences and opinions of any who would care to divulge such things; this was sort of cute when she was 2 years old, and became slightly less charming as she got older. Sometimes, it was downright scary, and there is a thankfulness for the grace and protection that has been hers through these experiences. To this day, she continues to do as she sees fit, but has called to service the ability to listen more closely to that voice that comes from both above and within; her example has reminded me to do the same.
I talked to her this morning; she recounted how she had fallen asleep on the couch last night, and when Terry woke her to go to bed sometime after midnight, even in her fog, she remembers realizing, "I'm 30 years old now!" Funny; turning 30 did seem to be one of those things that was both everything and nothing at all, at the same time, in my memory.
| Oh, dear. ♥ I miss this baby. ♥ |
"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, 'Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?' Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small doesn't serve the world. There's nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us, it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we're liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others."
Marianne Williamson, "A Return to Love"