There is something very surreal about a younger sister getting married. I can only imagine what Mom and Dad must be feeling.
Then and Now overlap and tug at each other when I look at her so happy with him, and I can’t help but remember the last two decades and two.
After all, this was the little sister who swelled our mommy’s belly while I was five and six—old enough to remember the conversations with Baby through her shirt while Daddy held the camcorder.
This was the baby who made me so proud because her crib was in my room. We played peekaboo in the glow of the night-light in defiance of bedtime because her giggle was the best sound in the world.
This was the munchkin with the long lashes and the shock of crazy hair that stood up straight like something electrified in our family Christmas picture.
This was the kid who got a broken collarbone because my concern for the “rules” overshadowed my concern for her. And then she forgave me and never seemed to remember that it was my fault.
This is the little roommate who lay under me in her bunk and asked me to tell her about Heaven. So I did, and I never knew until our twenties that those late-night whispered talks had led her to Jesus.
This is the comedian whose talent for voice impressions from movies makes us howl with laughter. I am still convinced that she could work for Disney and make millions.
This is the peacemaker, the tenderhearted friend of every left out and lonely girl in the lunchroom.
This is the bird-watcher, the giggler, the listener to hearts.
This is the little sister who has become a best friend, an equal, an example of love to me.
Baby sister, beautiful woman, I am standing with you. As you promise love to each other forever, I promise too.
I promise to always be your friend,
to always pray for you and Mark,
to always be a loving aunt to your future babies,
and to always be your sister in every sense of the word.