Today is my sister Sally’s 26th birthday. Wow.
Just writing that makes me realize how old that makes me…
I do remember when Sally was born. I remember when all my
siblings were born, but hers was a bit different. Born in 1988, cell phones
weren’t around. If they had been, it would have been easy to text or call Dad
and get him out of his deacon’s meeting. As it was, no one at the church office
was answering the phone that evening. So, my grandmother drove to the church
and got him. Sally kindly waited through all this and was born later that night
at the hospital.
Sometimes I think Sally could be called a miracle child. She
managed not to drown herself…and not for lack of trying. Mom had to keep a
close eye on her when we’d go swimming at the lake. Sally would walk out into
the water and just keep going. As long as she could bounce up and catch a
breath, she plowed ahead. Until Mom grabbed hold of her and dragged her back to
shore.
As I think back over Sally’s life, I smile at the memories I
have of her. She always seemed like an oxymoron. As a little girl, Sally loved
to wear dresses. She enjoyed tea parties. She played house. And yet she
couldn’t keep clean to save her life. Nor did she flinch at any
rough-and-tumble game Daniel would suggest. She wasn’t about to be beat at
anything. And nothing stood in her way.
Sally grew up loving horses. She enjoyed reading. She tried
sewing for a while and did rather well. Now she has moved on to cooking and
baking. She’s even in school for culinary arts. She can be loving and
sympathetic. She has a servant’s heart. But she is still that little girl who
won’t be beat. Or who will keep going as long as she can bounce and take a
breath. And I’m glad.
Happy Birthday, Sally!
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