Reasons I am grateful for my sisters

Anyone who reads this blog with any regularity knows that I have spells where I let a lot of time go by. What you may not know is that when I do this there are always different topics going through my head. One thing that is really important to me is being present in any given moment, and I am least able to do this when I am not caught up on writing, because the words are spinning off and trying to get formed right. Anyway, yesterday I wrote out the various topics that I had ideas on, and, well, there are about 40 that I think are specifically blogs. That does not count ones that might be better for journal writing or fictional ideas, or things that would go in the travel or preparedness blogs.

I’m not saying that I am going to post daily until I get through them, but I intend to try. Again, for those who like to read and keep up, well, it’s okay if you don’t read them all. The side menu shows the titles of the various posts, so you can see which ones sound interesting. Believe me, no one gets as frustrated with me as I do with myself. On the other hand, if anyone is still trying to use the blog to keep tabs on me in a not-friendly way, this could be really frustrating for them, and I’m okay with that. Wow—40. If I observed Lent, blogging every day could have been perfect.

Regardless of all that, I am very grateful for Julie and Maria. We didn’t start out really close. I love all of my family members, then and now, but while I was growing up Lance was distant, Misty was resentful, and Julie and Maria were bratty and mean. Some of that was because of the age differences. Lance was seven years older, and that’s a lot before you become adults, which brings some equality. Five years is still kind of a lot, but I think the main thing that meant with Misty is that she had strong memories of being displaced as the youngest and the only girl, whereas if we had been two or three years apart it might not have been such a big deal.

Despite being five myself when it happened, I don’t really remember feeling displaced when Julie and Maria were born. It was more when they started walking and talking and hitting and biting that it became an issue. They were into everything, which often included my stuff, and if I tried to protest it was easy for them to gang up on me because there were two of them, and I would get in a lot more trouble for fighting with them than they would for me. Here and there I remember playing games with them and making stuff for them or twirling them around, but I had gotten into the habit of calling them brats. One day I realized that my friends thought of them as brats, because that’s what I called them, and it’s not that it was wrong, exactly, but it wasn’t the whole truth either. I started to mature a bit then.

We gradually started getting along better, and becoming closer, but it has really blossomed now that we are adults. Vacationing together probably helped, and we have tackled many projects together, and working together helps too. Ultimately though, I think it is the sum of the little moments.

One thing is that I can say anything to them. I did do standup comedy at the talent show, and it was fine, but when bits are inspired by a specific person, I can tell my sisters the name. I can, but I don’t have to because they already know. I can use the harsher material too. I have this one punch line about ending up in a landfill in Utah, and it is dark humor. It does not stem from any bad feelings about anyone, and it is not intended to be hurtful to anyone, but there are still people who would be offended by it, and that’s okay. I have a home audience where I can be unadulterated. Sure, my dark side is pretty tame compared to most professionals, and still involves no profanity or vulgarity, but it’s still there, and it’s nice to have a safe haven for it.

Another thing is that feeling of connectedness with our similarities. I am so wordy—I know my posts are probably a lot longer than they need to be. I think I know why. It was never safe talking to my father. No matter how carefully I would plan what I needed to say, trying to choose the words carefully so that the meaning is totally clear and there is no reason for offense, there was always offense and I was always wrong. So one night we (Mom, Julie, Maria, and I) were sitting around talking, and Dad came up, and how you could not talk to him because you were always setting him off without meaning to, and I mentioned how I am paranoid about being misunderstood, and it makes me wordy. Julie laughed and asked, “Is that where that comes from?” It turns out she does the same thing at work. She got dinged on a review because she does not seem to be able to give simple explanations. They know she understands the material, and it was a good review anyway because she does a great job, but she just cannot abridge. Well, somehow the things that are wrong about yourself don’t seem quite as bad when you can laugh along with the other passengers in that particular boat.

I love their generosity of spirit, and that they are always thinking about other people and have great instincts as to what will be good for someone. Not only is it good in them, but it also means that I am not alone when I want to serve people. We aid and abet each other in that.

I am grateful that they have been following along with me. Somehow spiritual growth was easy for me, and I got a lot of it in early. They did not seem to have as much of an interest, maybe because of the vulnerability that it entails. But, when our attendance in that institute class (Writings of John) ended up being so spotty, they did agree to read the material as a family, and they agreed to keep going until we have read the entire New Testament, The Pearl of Great Price, Genesis, and are now in The Doctrine and Covenants and that has been good for us, and ultimately it would never have worked without their commitment. Now we are praying together, and that has changed us too.

I have referred to adulthood bringing some equality, and that may be the most profound way in which our relationship has grown. There were struggles at different times, but from about a year after I graduated from college to when I lost my job, I was always doing pretty well financially. I helped them with tuition, and bought them presents and gave them pocket money, and that was fine and I loved them a lot, but I was very much the big sister and benefactor.

That has changed a lot in the past year or so. Now they have had to help me, and sometimes we are almost playing Hot Potato with the money. The other week Mom got the water bill, garbage bill, and newspaper bill on the same day, but the water was unusually high, and was going to clean her out. I grabbed garbage and Julie grabbed the newspaper. Mom felt guilty about me taking garbage, so she signed over a refund check to me, but then I just bought groceries with it, and Julie bought some other items for the household, and then Maria picked up something, and it is just as close to living the law of consecration as we have ever been. It would be nice if money was not always so short (and believe me, it is short), but there is hope because we have each other. We can stay just enough ahead of the tide.

So maybe I owed them that one. There are still people who think I am nice and that they are not, and no, you just don’t know them. (And I think evil thoughts about people who talk smack about my sisters.) I am better at talking to strangers, so I can be friendlier that way, but that’s just because I have mostly given up on trying to not feel stupid, which is mostly because I have had five years more to figure out that there is just no point. Seriously, it’s excruciating for me too; I just do it anyway.

I have really come to see the value of having someone there, that you like and that believes the same way you do. On one hand I see sisters who are torn apart by competition, but there are others who are so lonely because they had to do everything on their own, and I’m blessed. We are blessed. This is not the future that any of us saw, but it has its good points.