Amateur Sister

I planned on focusing this post on the events of the weekend - how in the end, I was humorously an assumed professional in everything. However, it will have to wait. With the recent arrival of a certain blessing in my family, I feel it important to explore my new role - as an amateur aunt, but more importantly my long standing role as an amateur older sister.

Granted, I've been a sister for 23 years. Unfortunately, I have yet to come close to mastering the responsibility, and am sure I will always be an amateur. I spent many of those 23 years causing fights, exhibiting anger physically, assuming the job of the boss, acting as a second mother rather than an equal sibling, all the while ignoring the needs and emotions of my family.

Admittedly, this resulted in a solid disturbance specifically between me and my sister. We never became friends. We didn't do any thing together. We didn't talk. We weren't there for one another. In short, we had a pretty lousy sisterhood.

One of my earliest memories of me and my sister is a moment when I tried to stab her with a pencil (I have no idea if she even remember this; if so, I'm sorry.). Half of the pictures I have of us from when she was a baby show me either frowning or throwing a fit. These problems obviously started early on and only continued to worsen over time.

Needless to say, we've had our fair share of monster blow ups; from adolescent teasing gone haywire to laying it all out on the table as young, married adults. You name it, and we've probably had a dispute about it.

Recently, I tried reconciliation. Since marrying Scott and seeing the relationship his mother has with her sister, I truly felt the emptiness of not having that same connection with my own sister. In doing so, I arrived at the sad realization that the hurt I inflicted runs deeper than I could ever imagine. Anyone can see that just my presence gives my sister anxiety.

We all know how hard it is to forgive and forget, especially when it comes to a family member. I strongly believe it is always our families who we hurt the most. Typically, I am the worst version of myself around my immediate family. Our families usually bear the brunt of our stress, depression, hurt, and anger, whether or not it is associated with them. And when those feelings are sorely directed towards a specific family member, we shatter him/her. Not only do we shatter them, but we injure the opportunity of obtaining a somewhat stable relationship with that particular person. Undoubtedly, I know I have pushed this too close to the point of no return.

And yet, I hope. I hold hope that one day, we can be friends. That we will share stories of our now separate lives, of our own children, celebrate our victories, and lift one another up in time of tragedy.

Yesterday, I saw a piece of that hope realized. My dear sister gave birth to healthy baby boy. She was strong, and accomplished something I can only pray to do myself one day. I am so proud of her and her choices. So much shame exists in the ways I've treated her in the past, in the unnecessary competitions of life. Sorrow fills my heart in just thinking about the ways I constantly looked down on her, while in reality she was really only looking up to me for help and guidance.

Now, I am the one looking up to her. Seeing her as a sister and a mother.

Welcome to the family, Grant Marvin Jensen. I promise to be a better sister to your mother, and the best aunt I can be to you.