Sister

Linking up with The Gypsy Mama today for Five Minute Friday.  Please extend me some grace - this was a little longer than 5 minutes when I wrote it,  but it speaks an ache and longing I was feeling earlier this week - thank you.

This post written by Lisa-Jo prompted me to spend some time thinking of those distant shores today.  This is where it took me ~

I have a photo on my mantelpiece of my sister and I when we were young.  I am 3 years old and my sister is 5. 

She sits on my mantle, and she also sits on my desk in a digital photo frame that scrolls precious memories of 2 summers ago when I had her company for 3 glorious weeks.

My sister lives on distant shores now.  Not of her making – it was me who followed my husband and a dream to emigrate and leave the land I call home.  Did I really know how that would be 3 years in – 5 years in?  What will that feel like in 10 years, 15 or 20? 

We said, “I don’t know….. I don’t know if I want to spend the rest of my life living this far away from you.”   I ponder this often and my heart echoes that sentiment, sometimes louder than her voice speaking that truth with me.

I didn’t know for so long what I had in a sister close by.  I took for granted that my sister would always be there.  I knew the way to her house and could drive from wherever I was like a homing pigeon when I needed to be in her physical presence. Now the closeness covers the vastness.  It travels the Atlantic and connects with her on distant shores by Skype, phone, email, and paper.  And I’m grateful for it.

But I miss the skin on skin of a hand held in solidarity, of face-to-face talking, of a hug that encompasses a multitude of memories and history.

A sister is a forever friend.   She is a confidante, a trusted source of wisdom, comfort and resource.  She shares history from childhood that bonds two people together.  She knows what it was to play together.  She laughs at our childhood silliness, our own made up songs. She was protector, tormentor, friend and foe. She knows me inside out.  She knows the best about me, and the worst.  She shares secrets, hard fought and won from parents.  She is my helper.  She knows what to do or say in times of trouble, and even if she doesn’t know, her companionship is enough.

She is amazing and I cherish her completely.  I took for granted how special having a sister is when I had her right there, and now I poignantly know it. I wish she was not so far away.  

Delight

On Fridays we write for 5 minutes with the gypsy mama.  Come over and join us!  Todays word is -

DELIGHT

Delight!  When I hear this word, or say this word I smile.  Is it a word that is used overly much?  I hear it in greeting sometimes "I'm delighted to meet you."  But true delight can't be put in a box that way, and made small.  It is big, bigger, HUGE!  To me, it is an outpouring and overspilling of absolute joy.  What delights me?  When I really think about this the list is huge.  It's my children with their giggles, their individuality, their personality, their talents, their cross faces, their struggles, their delights.  They make my heart sing.  My friendships that build, and can be loving enough to be honest.  It's hot tea on a rainy day, no actually on any day!  It's playing at a children's play park trying to swing higher and higher than my son.  Seeing raindrops on petals, eating chocolate, letters from home and dancing - yes dancing my heart out!  There used to be a dessert in England called Angel Delight.  I wonder what the Angels delight in?  They sing praises all day long..  Their joy and delight is immense!  What delights you?

Forgiven

It's a gorgeous sunny day so as the children tumble out of school we stay at the park to play.  There is laughter and energy and running and all is well with the world.  Then it happens - I see my son walking away with his head down.  It is not a slow stride, it is one that he has when he is angry, but there is sadness coupled with it too.  I call his name and he throws me a look over his shoulder - his face is set.  I just need some time alone, he says, and walks purposefully to the trees, where dens and forts and places to hide are abundant.  There is another voice from behind me shouting across to him "OK - I'm sorry!"
I look back to the play area.  My son's friend has joined my younger daughter and her friend and they cross the monkey bars with glee and squeals.  The friend looks every so often for my son and I breathe wondering whether to get involved or let them sort it out.
A few minutes pass, then the friend gets down and goes looking for my son.  I watch as they speak to one another in the distance - the friend looks earnest and I know he apologises, then my son raises his hand in a stop gesture and turns his back and walks away.  My heart sinks.
The friend returns to the park.
I let a few more minutes pass then I call my son to me and gently ask what's going on?  He doesn't want to talk about it.  I try again, and again he says he doesn't want to talk about it.  I take a breath then say, I saw your friend coming to say sorry, to try and make it right.  Can you not accept his apology and make friends?
Then come the words with the tears, flying like bullets, an angry torrent.  He is mad because "everyone" tells him he's wrong even when he knows he is right!  I take a sharp breath in at this brokeness before me.  I understand the hurt of being undermined and having the wind knocked out of you by others who repeatedly disagree with what you say, or challenge you by expressing that they believe the opposite to be true.  I keep calm and say I understand.  I acknowledge his pain, and then I gently remind him that perhaps he expressed all of his anger that has built during the day and directed it towards one friend.  I point out that this friend has tried to make it right, has humbled himself and apologized and asked forgiveness.  Can he find it in his heart to forgive?  The tears still come spilling and the anguished voice says "but its hard!  It's hard to forgive when it still hurts!"  It rattles me to the core.  Isn't this the truth for us all - for me now?  Simply the injustice of it all.  And how do we keep forgiving and giving grace when it just isn't fair. 


Looking at the broken heart of my son before me causes me to stop, and the brokenness of all this world hurts me.  We start this lesson young.  How do I explain this when I wrestle with this myself?
Isn't this the lesson we need to learn and live over and over again.  In this broken world we forgive because we are forgiven.  How can I accept grace if I can't give grace?  What does living a grace filled life look and feel like?  We forgive, because there is a liberating joy in it,  that the mess of it all can be turned to something good.  It's simple - I need to be forgiven and receive grace therefore I give grace and forgive.

Keeping it Real

We're writing for just 5 minutes this morning over with Lisa-Jo at www.thegypsymama.com.
Why not join us this morning

Keeping it Real

This is it - this is real life.  This day by day routine we have.  I get up half an hour before my children every day for a few precious moments of calm and peace before the chaos ensues!  But it's not chaos - its vitality, energy, youth and life.  .  The quiet is real and a bit of hope and faith can give me all I need for the day ahead.  It isn't long before the troubles come flying, with a broken toy, a cross word, a fight over a toy, lost homework and the expulsion of energy it takes from me to smooth the waters, calm the storm can take its toll.  These "difficult" moments can very quickly turn in to my perceived reality of a tired and tricky existence if I don't pause long enough to give thanks for it all.  Keeping it real means a life of grace.  Being able to both receive it and give grace away - over and over again.  Real is to be present in each moment as it unfolds, let the drama and the joy play out and just give thanks for it all in real time.