Sister of Mine

In my sister, I am blessed. God's gifted me in both a blood relation and a friend. Katina and I have had many seasons in life. We grew up in the same bedroom. First we shared a bunk bed and then had separate futons. I remember going from frenemies to best friends in that bedroom. When we first moved in, our bedroom had red, yellow, green, blue, and white striped wall paper from it's previous male occupant. We left if for some time, then tore it all off and in our family's style didn't paint if for a very long time. Our parents surprised us one weekend and painted it for us while we were gone. We had decided on our colors: blue and purple, sponge painted. A compromise, as they were both our favorite colors. During the day we'd have our own personal dance parties in our room, grooving to tunes such as Funky Town, Brick House, and Lady Marmalade. Lying in our separate futons we'd talk all night. Sometimes we cuddled. Sometimes we were quiet and I'd hide under the covers with only my watch's push button light to illumine the pages of whatever book I was reading currently. She probably did something similar without me knowing it. (I'm SO glad we didn't have laptops at the time!)

When we moved into our Nanny's house we fought horribly for the first month. She and I have this joke that we only fight now in front of our family. Our brother says we're the worst roommates. (He just doesn't know.) We've learned a lot and grown even closer over the past 6 months. We joke that this has been great training ground for marriage someday.

My sister and I have had some great adventures together. In December of 2010 we had our first road trip together. We couldn't go too far, so we went to Phoenix, AZ about an 8 hour drive from where we live.

We had In-N-Out

The golden boomerang of the west has the yummiest of burgers.

And went hiking

trail head

Katina demonstrates that the rocks are funny

We like each other. 

And we look alike, too.

In three weeks my sister and I will be adventuring together in Belgium for three months. I'm so glad God gave her to me, and can't wait to go to the other side of the world with her! 

Stay tuned for posts from Genval, Belgium. 

The Holiday Hum-drums

Holidays: delightfully enjoyable or incredibly depressing?

Obviously it depends on your situation around holidays. If you've had a loved one die or something terrible happen around a holiday, that memory will forever change the way you look at said holiday. For example, this year my Nanny died right before Easter. I'll probably remember that forever. But a few years ago my Papaw died a couple days before my birthday. My birthday was the day right after his funeral. I definitely reflected upon that the next year around my birthday, but the following years, honestly I don't know if it crossed my mind. (Though it certainly may affect my Dad much more than me.)

My Mom has done a great job of ingraining in us the fact that holidays aren't about us. Christmas is not about me. Easter, not about me. Even my birthday...not about me. So whatever the circumstance around a special date on a calendar, I've been able to learn that a holiday doesn't have to look or feel a certain way.

I've had to deal with the feeling that we were the 'weird' family around holidays for a long time. We never really celebrated just like everyone else. It's never been as big of a grand production for my family. We don't decorate to the hilt. We don't plan and plan for a month before the big day. We don't pine over Christmas carols or yearn for the day when we can put up our Christmas tree. Several years in a row we shopped for our presents the day before Christmas Eve. We've even had years without a Christmas tree. For a few years in OK, we had a home-made manger. (It was beautifully handcrafted from weathered fence pieces from our backyard. It didn't make the move with us 4 years ago and I still miss it.)

This year's Christmas didn't fall short in it's weirdness quota either. We just celebrated it as a family tonight. Yes, we just celebrated Christmas on New Year's Eve. I don't care to go into the reasons why we did what we did this year in fact, if you'd like, you can read what we have normally done in the past and a few traditions we've developed at my mother's blog here, but we did have a simple, lovely evening with a few presents and delicious fettuccine alfredo.

Every year, I do struggle to have a heart of complete worship around holidays. I think our upbringing has made it easier though. However this year, I found myself thinking through how many more holidays I would have to get through as a "single person". Ugh. I went through a mental check-list of how long I'd have to endure sappy holiday cheer and be grumpy about it. Christmas, check. New Years...almost...and now, check. Oh good! Wait...Valentine's Day! Oooooh no! One whole awful month to be inundated with pink, red, candy and fluffy animals in celebration of that special someone. So three holidays right in a row that remind me that I'm alone. Great.

Today especially I felt that huge wish to have someone to celebrate with. As we drove down Central around campus I noticed every macho man bundled up in coat, scarf and hat, feeling like I was on the outside looking in on the relationships that everyone else seems to be in. I could feel my heart getting heavier and heavier, loaded down with the weight of feeling sorry for myself...And then...
Then my eyes fell upon a man. Not a macho man, attractive in his clean coat and nicely trimmed, fashionably-wintery beard, but a dirty man; a man loaded down with a burden he carries everywhere he goes. His bundle is his bed and clothing. His burden, the weight of survival. Instantly I realized this day, this day deemed a holiday-a day of drunkenness and unnecessary romance and spontaneous kisses in Times Square etc-is not about me. This day is not about my comfort or fulfilling my girlish dreams and nor is any other day. There is hurt in this world. There is pain. And whether it's a holiday or not, it is still a regular, normal day. It is still a day written in God's history. It is still a day where every wrong has not yet been made right and it is still a day that I am waiting for Christ my King.

Oh man am I grateful for perspective. Yes, there is a time for rejoicing, celebration and fun. But if there's anything that holidays in my family have taught me, it is that every day does not play out in the way that we had perfectly planned and that every day is not about me. All 365 days of the year are about Christ and about His purpose for redemption and relationship with His people. All of those days include holidays, and holidays aren't about me.