Sheila is two years older than I am so she has always been a part of my life. We played together when we were little. She was always a bit more of a tomboy than I was, but we both spent a lot of time outside. We both loved to read, although I tended to gravitate toward contemporary fiction and Sheila delved into the classics. We are very similar yet also very different.
Music has always been part of our lives. Our mom used to play a wide range of classical, choral, and show tunes, but I was the one who crossed the line into that heathenish world of rock and roll first. I think I drove Sheila crazy with my radio blaring out top 40 and classic rock. I finally introduced her to classic Chicago and she liked the big band sound.
Sidenote: Sheila must have been wearing heels the day this picture was made because she’s not taller than I am. Hmmm . . . .
Our adult lives could not appear more different to most people. I’ve only lived in Arkansas and Louisiana and my southern twangy drawl is obvious. Sheila spent six years living in Europe and speaks three languages fluently. She is still a deeper, more thoughtful person than I am. I am easily distracted and quick to take up (and abandon) and new interest. I still tend to read more fiction and listen to more rock music.
But she’s my sister. We have cried together, laughed together, been angry together, and explored the mysteries of the universe together. She reminds me to get up and go outside. She reminds me that life is not about the here-and-now, but about eternal things. She reminds me that it’s good to open my home to others, but that really all these things we do are not as important as being in relationship with God.
I grew up hearing my grandmother talk about her “dear sisters” (there were three) and I have a feeling that I will do the same.
Yes. Yes, I will.
Meet Sheila — my dear sister.