The Cap and Gown

My sister is graduating high school.

 

 

In just a few short days I will be attending the graduation ceremony, watching her walk across the stage to receive her diploma. She is a hard-working, dedicated student who actually took PSEO classes full time this year at college, earned a 4.0 GPA. She scored a 33 on the ACT; I could go on and on about her gifted mind.

 

I've been preparing for her graduation party for weeks. I've been cleaning the house, preparing food, and put together a 30 minute picture slideshow of her whole life thus far. She turned 18 this past weekend. None of it really registered with me, I guess, until yesterday when I took pictures of her in her cap and gown.

 

 

My sister is graduating high school.

 

People say all the time that "the time has flown by". It has not. I've known her for 18 entire years and it has not flown by. I remember waiting at the top of the stairs for my father to arrive and take Ethan and me back to the hospital to meet her. I remember admiring her tiny fingers; she is the first baby I was able to really appreciate as a new creation.

 

We have grown up together. We have our own lives and we are our own people and our journeys thus far have been twisting, turning pathways with separate acquaintances and experiences, yet our journeys are intertwined because we are sisters. Created by God, born of our mother, raised under one roof.

 

 

I have held her physically in my arms when she weighed 9 pounds. We have held each other up emotionally. I have shared the happiest days of my life with her. We have lived nightmares together.

 

I have laughed with her, cried with her, played with her, counseled her, shared with her, taught her, learned from her, ventured new places with her, fought with her, subsequently come crawling apologetically back to her, forgiven her, and most of all loved her.

 

Because of her I understand how God can take me as I am. She has always taken me as I am. I am a better person because she is my sister.

 

 

When I look at her, I see the fingerprints of God. Her face wrinkles when she laughs. A moment of pure joy consumes her, sometimes until neither of us can remember what we were even laughing about in the first place but what we are laughing about now is the fact that we still are.

 

 

I love her endless expressions. She's a complete goofball. She's my best friend.

 

 

I think God must have used His angels' hair as inspiration when He made hers. That is the only explanation for those silky, shining, golden locks. Her full lips turned up in a smile is one of the most welcoming sights I've experienced. She is a warm person. She exudes love. Her eyes are perhaps her most compelling feature, so large they look wide even when they are closed. They are deep and expressive, truly a window to her soul. I struggle to find a comparison for their color. Maybe God made one just for her. The closest thing in nature might be the Earth itself from space.

 

 

The other thing people say all the time is that they hope their loved one's life will be free of pain. I cannot hope for this, though I hate to ever see her in pain. I have learned that the various forms of pain we experience are an essential part of our time here. Without them, we would not learn to yearn for Heaven. But I can do better than hope. I can make her a promise. I promise her that she need never suffer life's pain without someone by her side. I promise her that no matter where she goes, no matter what she does, no matter how many years we live or miles we travel, I will be there. I will stand with her. I will hold her in my embrace, in my prayers, and in my heart.

 

 

 

That promise is not limited to this life. If I go before her, it is unchanged. Wherever life takes her, she can know without a doubt that she has a sister who loves her.

 

Congratulations Elena!

Love, Moni