To Charlie

Today my baby sister is 23 years old. Twenty-three…

My memories of Abby (aka: Charlie) begin very vividly when our mom was pregnant with her. Abby was the most prayed for baby in our family for she wouldn’t stop turning flips in the womb. True to character, she didn’t care to do things like most babies. Head first? Why not feet first? (She did turn the right way before she was born.) I remember a late night spent in bed reading for hours while Dad rushed Mom to the hospital in severe pain. Not only was I left at home in charge of my sleeping siblings, but I could remember Christine…  I read (I could even tell you what book), prayed, listened, feared…until my parents came home. Mom had kidney stones (which she says is much worse than giving birth). Or how Abby got her name. “Father’s joy” seems like a wonderful meaning to a name – just be careful what you pair it with. “Renowned in battle” isn’t necessarily a meaning you want your child to attempt to live up to (as Abby does nearly every day of her life). Even if Louise was the last middle name of an aunt remaining…and even if it was fun for Jenny whose newest favorite book was Eat Your Peas, Louise!...I think I shall refrain from using it for my own children.

I’m sure my siblings and I ask ourselves every day how we even managed our lives prior to Abby telling us what to do. (Or maybe not…) For Abby has never been shy when offering advice. Finances, politics, how to bake a cake…it doesn’t really matter. She has an opinion. Of course, it’s pretty easy to completely turn the tables on Abby. She is way too fun to tease!

Abby’s motto growing up was, “If someone else will do it for you, why bother?” I have never seen anyone as capable of getting out of chores as Abby was. If she was paired with you to wash screens, weed the rocks or pick green beans; you had only to look around ten minutes later to discover she was no where to be seen – and you had finished the chore by yourself. She could always find someone to read to her. In our house, there was always an open lap ready to be backed into with book in hand. I don’t even know how many books I read to her during the long car rides to handbell performances. No wonder she struggled as she learned to read herself. As Mom discovered when she officially started Kindergarten, Abby’s motor skills left much to be desired. But why color when Caleb was always willing to and why cut pictures out when Jenny was as proficient as the Barber of Seville with a pair of scissors? Exactly.

From a very young age, Abby had her life planned out exactly as she wished. Dates, accomplishments – she probably had them written in some book. But we all know the end to the phrase “The best laid plans…”. Even though she started strong…well, I’m a planner myself. Perhaps not the “one-year, five-year, ten-year goal plan” type of planner, but I know a thing or two about putting things in order. And I find great comfort in doing so. Which is probably why God doesn’t always let me have my way. Nor has He Abby. And even though I know she wouldn’t exchange little Benny for anything…well, some changes God throws at us (often to get our wavering attention) are very difficult. Who knows what God now has for Abby’s future, but she will always be my baby sister. And I will always love her.

Happy Birthday, Charlie.