Finding My Sisters
I grew up with two older brothers who were not particularly fond of the annoying sister who followed them around. I grew tired of being excluded from their boys-only games and started dreaming about having a sister. Specifically, I wanted an identical twin sister. I was a chubby ten-year-old at the time, and I didn’t want my sister to be prettier or skinnier than me. But I also didn’t want her to be chubbier and uglier than me, so in my vain child mind, she needed to be identical to avoid competition.
Without a Parent Trap-type scenario (my all-time favorite childhood movie, for obvious reasons), I knew that wasn’t possible. But I was desperate enough for companionship that I decided I could settle for a younger sister. I approached my mom with my request. I was nervous because I knew it was a bold request, and I wanted her to take me seriously. I could never have imagined her response. In a matter-of-fact tone, she informed me, “You already have a sister.” What? My mind scrambled for answers. Why have I never met her? Who is she? Where is she right now? My mother explained that when I was little, she had tried to give me a sister, but she had a miscarriage. She earnestly believed, however, that the baby was in heaven, and that when we died she would be there to greet us. This was big news! I needed to be alone to daydream some more.
As the years went on, I gave up my dream of having a sister, until one day, when my mom handed me the phone. She looked shocked and outraged and was too emotional to even tell me who was on the other end.
“Hello?” I said. It was my older brother. He was calling to inform the family he had eloped.
“I didn’t even know you were engaged!” I said indignantly. “You don’t do that!” I don’t think I even mustered a “Congratulations” during that conversation. I hung up and pondered the gravity of what he had done. Then I realized that his new wife was my sister-in-law. I had a sister!
My new sister’s name was Rachel. I was glad I wasn’t named Leah, because I still didn’t want to be the ugly sister. Although Rachel was beautiful, I quickly realized that didn’t matter to me as long as she liked having me as a sister. The problem was, I didn’t have a clue what it meant to be a sister, or a sister-in-law. In my imagination, my sister looked exactly like me and we shared clothes. Rachel was several sizes smaller than me, and her style was much more professional than my artsy look. Ironically, Rachel had also been raised with two brothers, so it was up to us to define “sister.”
I quickly learned a sister-in-law was someone who made you a grilled cheese sandwich while she griped about your brother’s quirks. I learned a sister was someone to whom I could give a kitten I couldn’t keep, and call it a “gift.” I learned a sister was someone with whom I could laugh about our differences. I could celebrate her successes without that celebration belittling my own success.
After so many sister-less years, it occurred to me that I had been viewing other women as competition. Since I never got my identical twin sister, all other women had to be either prettier, uglier, smarter, dumber, fatter, or skinnier than me. No wonder I had a hard time making female friends! Being in a roomful of women felt like being in an arena full of people competing to be the next Xena: Warrior Princess.
Not even my church friends could escape my mental comparison game. How dare someone be more talented or godly than me? I don’t care if they’re singing to Jesus. I should be able to sing better than them! It was around these church friends that I had another revelation, albeit not until my late twenties. I was sitting in a friend’s family room one night, surrounded by several women from my church’s small group, when it dawned on me: I truly love these women. They are my sisters in Christ. I was no longer in an arena, but in a family room with my sisters. I was no longer competing to be the next Xena: Warrior Princess because we are all princesses—daughters of the one true King.
Maybe it was partially because of my age or the fact that I wasn’t a lonely, chubby kid anymore, but I no longer felt threatened by other women’s beauty, talents, and brains. I marveled at their beauty. We encouraged one another in our talents, and I welcomed their words of wisdom. We were all at slightly different stages of life. Some were married with children. Some lived in apartments, and others lived in houses. Some had impressive degrees, and others were barely past high school. But none of it mattered! It only mattered that they were all my sisters in Christ and that I was finally learning how to love them. Their successes no longer threatened mine, which meant I could truly celebrate with them in their accomplishments without feeling like the ugly, unwanted sister.
When I got married, I acquired two more beautiful sisters-in-law. I treasure them dearly, but I see now that I have thousands of sisters! My sisters live all over the world, and come from every tribe and creed. My sisters vary in financial, marital, and educational status. My sisters transcend such titles as blood, adopted, step, half, and in-law. Some of my sisters already live in heaven with our Father, and some have yet to be born. I no longer compete with my sisters in Christ. Instead I embrace their uniqueness.
Now I just need to find a sister with the same sense of style so we can share clothes.
has sanctification in overdrive thanks to her three children. She and her husband of six years are working out their salvation with fear, trembling, and laughter. In her writing, Audrey preaches to herself and invites others to learn from her mistakes and be pointed to the cross. She can be found under the handle Peanut Butter Waffle Mom at AudreyGuerne.Wordpress.com.
Photograph © Raw Pixel, used with permission
