Her Name is Angela

There are a small number of people you can count on in your life.  I know. God. He can always, without question be counted on.  His characteristics and attributes clearly say that He is always with us.  If fact, He is the only absolute certainty in my life.  

Then there is family.  You cannot discount the tie that binds you together.  The good, the bad, and undeniably the ugly.  Our families are supposed to love us for who we are, but most often it's probably in spite of who we are.  

I have a sister. One sibling. One that I have shared a room and clothes with.  One who has shared our greatest joys and our deepest sorrows. She is all that is remaining of my original family. In 1972 when we became fatherless, it came down to one mother and two girls.  This was during the time when the innocent victims of divorce were the "undesirables" among certain people groups.  Maybe "desperate times called for desperate measures".  Maybe we needed to close in our circle so our mother could find where God wanted us.  Maybe what we needed to learn was how to lean on each other in every circumstance that was thrown our way.  In the wisdom of God, He provided for us and in doing that caused a bond to grow.  

I could fill you in on sister "discussions" that may or may not have ended up with hair being found in someone else's fingers. I could tell you about long car rides with laundry baskets full of books because we didn't have a radio, much less air-conditioning, which made keeping pages in the right place very difficult. You would be enthralled with our beauty shop tales of hair up-do's that couldn't' be brushed out for days because of all the hairspray. Hair may have come out on that occasion also.  There may have been a time when one of us, was hidden by the other behind a couch until the police were called by a frantic mother and grandmother.  She came out when the men in blue knocked on the door. We both didn't leave the house for days. I could tell of late night talks when we were supposed to be sleeping and staying up late for more than a few nights.  There is no end to the stories that could be told. 

Today is my sisters birthday. It's a milestone. If I could describe my sister it would be this:  She loves family. Our family, her family, our extended family. It doesn't matter. If there is a drop of DNA that is common to her, it's a done deal.  She has loved my children since the moment each of them have been born, and they love her because she makes the effort to be their Aunt.  And the Treasures, no problem. They love Sissy! She is accomplished in her professional field. She has a husband and sons that  "rise up and call her blessed".  She is a good and trusted friend.  She is smart, talented, beautiful and excellent at board games :).  When we are together, it's as if we have never been parted. She is always fun. When you can laugh uncontrollably with someone, it's a bond that is not easily broken. She is the sister that many people long for, and some are blessed to have. 

Happy Birthday, Sharon. I hope it's wonderful. Do something fun. Wear red shoes. Feel the love that is coming your way, today and every day.  Know that there is no other sister I would rather have. 

You're stuck with me like Peeps and jelly beans at Easter. They always go together.  You can have all the black jelly beans, though.

For all the days we have, I am graced with the gift of you.