Some of us are blessed with sisters that we are raised with. They do our hair and fight for our rights and the playground. They take us shopping for our first bra and teach us how to kiss a boy. I never had any of that. Perhaps that is why I have fumbled so much through life. My grandparents adopted me. Don’t get me wrong. They did a great job. I had a great Christian upbringing. But, they didn’t get that chance until I was ten and man was I a handful. I was rebellious and have struggled with bouts of depression throughout my teenage years and all of my twenties. I have a sister and a brother. But, none of us were raised together. So, that bond that siblings have … you know the one … that I can punch her, but if you do, man watch it; we don’t have that bond. We are getting better, but it is such a struggle and an effort.
My thirties are different. I have come to realize that I have had sisters all along. I have these women who I can call in the middle of the night when I don’t know where to turn. My close friend Amy who runs a business and has three beautiful children, my Jen’s (there are three), Lisa my newest sister in Kansas City who gets me out of my six mile radius, Brooke was meant to be my sister, we share a love of shopping and are passionate about being understood, she is also my husband’s little sister.
For whatever reason, I didn’t grow up having siblings by my side. But, I figured it out. I don’t go around braless. But, I get all the late night girl talk that I need. I always have someone to shop with and go over parenting advice with. My cup is full and I am sure over the coming years God will bless me with more sisters. I am so thankful for the sisters that I have and the ones that I have yet to meet.
