Nikki and I during her and Jason's visit to D.C. last October.
(Our only serious photo of the entire trip)
When I was eight-years-old and an only child I met my sister. I didn't go to the hospital nursery and peek through the window at her tiny feet. I didn't make homemade cards out of construction paper and glitter to welcome her home. My mom invited my sister to come to our house and play with me one Sunday after church. It was summer and I waited patiently in my room for my mom to bring this girl home. I dusted my porcelain dolls and carefully curled their hair around my small fingers. I made sure that my room was clean and I busied myself by drawing pictures as I waited for her arrival. Mom pulled into the driveway and soon a girl I remembered only vaguely from church was standing at my bedroom door. We were both shy at first, but I quickly invited her to play with my toys and she said something to make me laugh. We thought it was hilarious that we share the same name. That play date quickly turned into a sleep over as the summer sun nestled behind the mountains to sleep. I gave Nikki my bed and settled into a makeshift bed on my bedroom floor.
Nikki looked at me, "My mom died."
I looked at my American Girl doll that I held in my arms and hugged it tightly, "It's ok, I will share mine with you."
For fourteen years we have done just that. Nikki became my sister--not by blood or by legal documents--but through a deep soul connection that was given to us as a gift from God. There were many more sleepovers and as time went on we exchanged dolls for teen magazines and made-up games for obsessing over crushes. We bought matching pajamas and giggled late into the night until we got in trouble.
Tennessee summers brought refreshment to us through the form of summer camp. We went from the time we were eight to the time we were seventeen. One summer we both discovered what it means to be loved by God and shared in that journey together. We used too much Sun-In and our hair turned orange. We cut our legs learning to shave and our hearts got broken learning to love. We invested in one-pound bags of gummy bears and ate them all within a couple of days. We laid out in the sun to tan, but only turned as red as the gummy bears. The days were spent talking on the phone for hours--until we got kicked off or had to break for dinner.
Autumn brought the change of a new school year. My mom would take us shopping for school supplies and then we would drop Nikki off at her house. The new school year brought new teachers, gossip, friends, enemies, and boys onto our radar. Nikki and I would spend chilly Autumn nights babysitting my siblings that had come along since our friendship began. Nikki had been there when I went to the hospital nursery to peek through the window at their
tiny feet. She helped me make homemade cards out of construction paper and
glitter to welcome them home.
Fourteen times summer has turned to autumn and autumn into winter; winter has turned into spring yet nothing has changed. Nikki is still my sister and always will be. Driver's licenses, first jobs, first homes, and first heartbreaks have introduced us to "real life". We helped each other through those firsts and fought for each other when life got tough. We have experienced the death of close family together and wept with and for each other. We each have moved beyond crushes and into loving commitments to our husbands. I have lived overseas and many miles away from Nikki while she remained in Tennessee. In all of my travels and in all the places I have called home, I have found friends, but never a sister.
Now, as summer approaches and the sun and its rays bloom out over the earth I can say that in fourteen summers I have never seen anything shine as brightly as Nikki's smile. She lights up a room, a life, a family--my family when we became sisters. She and her husband Jason will be here in three days to spend the week with us. We will probably sit on the front porch and talk as summer heat kisses our cheeks and melts our iced coffees. I will sit there with an answered prayer that I didn't know how to ask for at eight years old, but God gave her to me anyway.
Happy Birthday, Nikki. I love being your sister.
