My littlest sister

I have four sisters; three by birth and one because my brother was smart enough to marry a great woman.

This story is about her.

She’s tiny, but that’s only a reference to her stature, not her character. I just returned from spending a weekend with her, my brother and their beautiful kids. I went to visit because they asked me to be present at a ceremony they were holding at a friend’s house in the countryside south of Kansas City.

It was a ceremony to honor their 13-year marriage by renewing their vows to one another. I wish more people did this; not so much the fancy party by the pool, but the simple act of standing up in front of friends and family and saying, again...

“yes…I do…”

A lesser woman would not have done this.

You see, my littlest sister has fought a brutal battle to keep her marriage intact. The struggle has left both her and her husband wounded and bearing many scars,

but also more
tender
and yielded to the movement and leading of the Spirit than any of us would have ever expected.

With her husband-my-brother at her side, they’ve fought the good fight which I suspect is not over.

They are by now, veteran soldiers and well armed.

I don’t worry about them. I pray; for strength, rest, contentment and passion…and wisdom.

One morning, I watched my littlest sister withdraw to the deck of their house with her Bible to read and pray. I don’t think she knew I was watching, but what struck me was the intentionality and humility of her movement. Kids were running everywhere leaving dishes and crumbs in their wake. It was the kind of chaos that would make most women fuss about corralling children and cleaning countertops. But my littlest sister literally turned her back on all that disorder and seemed to disappear in plain sight. She had an appointment scheduled that would not be disrupted for anything.

In that moment, it dawned on me that her strength was drawn,

not from her youth,
not from her health,
not from her beautiful home,
kids,
cars
or clothes.

It didn’t even come from her husband who is himself what many (including me) would call “mighty.”

Her strength was drawn from a simple, life-giving connection to a God who is

real
and gracious,
and merciful,
and patient,
and forgiving

and present.

I think the world of my other three sisters. I’m grateful to add a fourth to that list.