Sisterless
I grew up without a sister. Playing with dollhouses and Cabbage Patch Kids just wasn’t the same without this sibling bond, I’m sure. Despite this fact, however, I was such a girl. I loved baby dolls, Barbies, and playing mommy, and at least in my eyes, I would have made some little girl the best big sister in the world. I know I’ve probably idealized the relationship I would have had with this unknown sister, not accounting for the quarrels and catfights her relationship would surely bring.
Instead, I grew up with two burly brothers. My older brother and I had a three-year age gap and very little in common, so we didn’t hang out much, but my younger brother and I played together a lot; we were, for the most part, pretty inseparable. Yet, poor Joel was, regrettably, the habitual victim of my age, bossiness, and girlish whims. While the neighbor friend Michelle and I played house and took turns being the daddy or mommy, with no other choice left over but being our "baby," Joel patiently opted to be the family dog.
Growing up with my brothers had its advantages. It taught me to trust boys. Not that our home was filled with peace – it had it’s fair share of sibling violence – but no matter what our arguments were about, at the end of the day, if for no other reason but by our parents’ encouragement, we had our arms around each other again, offering love and forgiveness in spite of any divisions we might have had that day.
I also had the advantage of playing with my brothers’ friends, invariably boys, and also of dating many boys throughout my college years. All of this exposure to boys put me at ease in their presence. Today nothing has changed. I can be in a room full of men and feel complete at peace with who I am, knowing I’m not being judged, criticized, or envied, and knowing that if a disagreement ensues between us, we will work it out somehow.
On the other hand, with the girls in my life, who were usually acquaintances, neighborhood buddies, or fellow classmates, there always seemed to be a tendency to compete in whatever we possessed, whether it be academic ability, talents, or perceived beauty. I remember knock-down-drag-out, hair-pulling fights with some of these girls, ones where very little reconciliation, if any, was ever reached, and it marked a leaning in my life toward overall distrust of women.
True friends, the variety marked by unconditional love, were a rarity. I can count all of them in my life on the fingers of one hand. My mom is one of those fingers. I am thankful I had a true advocate and friend in her through the difficult moments in my life. I think, in this respect, I had the closest sister one could find. Chris is another one of those true blues. She, the daughter of a missionary family in our church, and I, the pastor’s kid, share not only likenesses in family (she has five brothers and no sisters) and general upbringing, but our personalities are very similar as well. Though we initially turned our noses up at one another, probably out of that same initial distrust of the female gender, we eventually grew up enough to realize we could be the best of friends. We could be there for one another and love each other like any two sisters could. I am continually grateful for her friendship.
When I was pregnant with Esther, my second girl, I was overjoyed to know that my Abby would have the sister I never had. She would unlikely walk through life ill-equipped in her relationships with girlfriends because she will have one ever-present girlfriend to teach her how to be comfortable in a room full of women, how to ride the waves of sisterly emotions and quarrels and still continue to love one another at the end of the day. I know just having these two pint-sized girlfriends in my own life has already begun the process of understanding this mystery, and for the first time, I’m beginning to learn what sisterhood is all about.
Instead, I grew up with two burly brothers. My older brother and I had a three-year age gap and very little in common, so we didn’t hang out much, but my younger brother and I played together a lot; we were, for the most part, pretty inseparable. Yet, poor Joel was, regrettably, the habitual victim of my age, bossiness, and girlish whims. While the neighbor friend Michelle and I played house and took turns being the daddy or mommy, with no other choice left over but being our "baby," Joel patiently opted to be the family dog.
Growing up with my brothers had its advantages. It taught me to trust boys. Not that our home was filled with peace – it had it’s fair share of sibling violence – but no matter what our arguments were about, at the end of the day, if for no other reason but by our parents’ encouragement, we had our arms around each other again, offering love and forgiveness in spite of any divisions we might have had that day.
I also had the advantage of playing with my brothers’ friends, invariably boys, and also of dating many boys throughout my college years. All of this exposure to boys put me at ease in their presence. Today nothing has changed. I can be in a room full of men and feel complete at peace with who I am, knowing I’m not being judged, criticized, or envied, and knowing that if a disagreement ensues between us, we will work it out somehow.
On the other hand, with the girls in my life, who were usually acquaintances, neighborhood buddies, or fellow classmates, there always seemed to be a tendency to compete in whatever we possessed, whether it be academic ability, talents, or perceived beauty. I remember knock-down-drag-out, hair-pulling fights with some of these girls, ones where very little reconciliation, if any, was ever reached, and it marked a leaning in my life toward overall distrust of women.
True friends, the variety marked by unconditional love, were a rarity. I can count all of them in my life on the fingers of one hand. My mom is one of those fingers. I am thankful I had a true advocate and friend in her through the difficult moments in my life. I think, in this respect, I had the closest sister one could find. Chris is another one of those true blues. She, the daughter of a missionary family in our church, and I, the pastor’s kid, share not only likenesses in family (she has five brothers and no sisters) and general upbringing, but our personalities are very similar as well. Though we initially turned our noses up at one another, probably out of that same initial distrust of the female gender, we eventually grew up enough to realize we could be the best of friends. We could be there for one another and love each other like any two sisters could. I am continually grateful for her friendship.
When I was pregnant with Esther, my second girl, I was overjoyed to know that my Abby would have the sister I never had. She would unlikely walk through life ill-equipped in her relationships with girlfriends because she will have one ever-present girlfriend to teach her how to be comfortable in a room full of women, how to ride the waves of sisterly emotions and quarrels and still continue to love one another at the end of the day. I know just having these two pint-sized girlfriends in my own life has already begun the process of understanding this mystery, and for the first time, I’m beginning to learn what sisterhood is all about.
Comments
I am so glad to have 2 little QUART-sized girlfriends in my life too!
And one yottalitre-sized (10 to the 24th power L) girlfriend.
*I admit, I had to look it up!*
:)
cj
Thank you for your kind words regarding my Write Away post!
mama