What is a Sister?

Here's a glimpse into my life growing up:

 I was surrounded by boys.

Though I was a sister, 

I had no concept of what it meant to have a sister.

And it made me who I am.

But then....those boys went and got themselves some women,

and those women started calling me "sister",

and though at first it was odd,

I soon discovered: I liked it.

As it turns out, it is good to have sisters.

This one was the first.  When she came around--I will admit--I was a bit wary.  I held myself back, and watched to see who she was.  Gradually I discovered she was quality, and a woman worthy of our Keith.  Then she brought me pearl earrings from Portugal, and I was sold.  

The funny thing about family is--

you don't get to pick.

And yet--as I have learned--

you can still make out quite well.

Marisa, for instance, has loved me.  Unconditionally.

She has made me laugh, with warmth.

She has held me while I cried, and spoken truth when it was what I needed to hear.

She has encouraged and supported me at every twisty turn.

And she has asked for nothing in return.

Not to mention,  she's allowed me to engage in some authentic familial girly-ness:

If you've grown up without sisters, you understand the momentousness of this.

So, why this sudden little ode to Marisa?

Because today is the celebration of her birth,

and because she is so precious to us

(and not just because she's carrying 

our first next generation-er...).

She is precious because of who she is.

Because she loves and cares for our Keith.

Because she has embraced us as her own.

And because she has answered for me the looming question:

What is a Sister?

A Sister, Maris, is you.

Happiest of Birthdays, with much love, to you.