You’re only two years older than me, but you’ve always seemed so much wiser. “How does she know these things?” I would ask myself when you imparted deep truths like how to read a map; how to pull into traffic on the freeway on-ramp; how to use your elbow as a shock absorber so your beverage doesn’t spill while driving; and the news that mascara can be applied without a mirror because your eyelashes are always the same distance from your touched cheek.
“How can she be so brave? I thought, when you took a trunk and hopped a ride with another student to Evangel College in Springfield, Missouri as a freshman, having never seen the campus but convinced it was God telling you to transfer from Ohio State University at Christmas break. Or this past year when you went to Sudan with medical colleagues on a missions trip.
Just two years apart, glad I wasn’t leading but willing to be your side kick, we’ve been through some interesting scenarios when I’ve asked myself “How can she be so strong under this pressure?” When we packed up your house, infant in arm, and drove the moving truck ourselves to where you now live; when mother nature turned your house into a swimming pool; and most recently, when I sat with you beside the hospital bed of your burned son, the third child in the hospital within a month, listening to you describe the incident, the life flight helicopter ride, and what goes through your mind in times of crisis ... continuing to shake my head in amazement at your incredible strength.
We were just two years apart, you were 17 and I was 15, sitting in the back left section among teenagers … giggling, passing notes and whispering throughout the Sunday morning service. Somehow my attention shifted when the invitation was given. “Will you go forward with me?” I whispered to you and we were headed down the aisle passed the blonde wood pews to kneel at the altar at 1900 Canfield Road in Youngstown. You stayed by my side while Pastor Alford lead me and several others in a prayer to ask Jesus Christ to be Lord of the rest of our lives. Looking back, the life you were living as a Christian teenager no doubt heavily influenced that decision for me … a decision that would forever change the rest of my life and my eternity. I ask myself, “How can I ever thank her?”
Today, on your birthday, as you work a 12 hour shift at the hospital, I hope at some point you’ll stop and think about how your life has blessed so many people, especially me, your younger sister, both of us decading-skipping through life, but still … two years apart. I love you, sis! Happy Birthday!
