This is it.
This is the life.
These are the hard days that I knew were just around the corner. As Hannah and I transition from the sister bond and slip into this new relationship where I somehow assume the mother role.
It’s like we’re in this tug of war with no real winner in the end. I try my hardest and she just fights me. Or I give up trying and she comes into my room inquiring about where her smoothie is, “Uhhh, Mary?”
One morning last week, I was telling Hannah that she couldn’t have chips for breakfast. I could see the wheels turn in her head for .2 seconds before she looked at me with a stonecold face as she reached for the chips. Still giving me her stern look, she grabbed the chips and walked to the table and popped open the bag and started eating them.
It was 6:00 am on a Monday morning, we were running late, and I gave up.
But there are times when it seems like we’re on the same team. Just last night I see a figure at my bedroom door and Hannah whispering, “Mary, I have bad dream.” I find it funny that my presence brings her comfort, when I can remember a time when I was the one inching towards my mother’s bed to be comforted from a terrible dream.
There are days I feel like I was born to do this.
There are other days when I feel like calling my sisters, telling them to take Hannah because I need to go crawl in a corner and cry.
When I came home for Thanksgiving break my freshmen year of college, I was on the couch watching tv, when Hannah hollered, “Mommmm,” from the bathroom.
“Your turn,” my mother said as she pushed her glasses back up her nose and got back to her book.
I begrudgingly walked towards the bathroom as Hannah’s shower song got louder.
“I need help my hair,” Hannah said as she realized it was me and gave me a disappointed look.
“I know, but mom needs a break.” As I was standing in the bathroom shampooing my sister’s hair, I was thinking about what my friends were doing. All the other 18 year old college freshmen probably weren’t helping their sisters shower.
How’d I get so lucky?
I was reminded of that night, this past Wednesday as I was sitting on the floor of the bathroom while Hannah was screaming and crying from an intense bellyache. This time my thought process being, all the other 24 year olds probably aren’t talking their sister’s through a stomachache right now.
And I’m right.
As I scroll through my social media sites, I see friends hanging out, going on adventures, traversing the world and conquering their Kingdom Dreams. But for me, it’s 7:30 on a weeknight and I’m barely keeping my eyes open. I know 4:45 am will be coming too soon. As I reflect on the day, it’s hard to specify what makes each day different from the last. It’s hard to look to the next and find motivation to be excited for each new day.
When I first saw #after11n11, my first instinct was to tweet something sarcastic and depressing to passively aggressively express my jealously of the post Race lives of other alumni.
But this is a dangerous pendulum I’m swinging. One side being, trusting the Lord’s plan and faithfulness to create something beautiful out of this life I was given, and the other being the dissatisfaction with what has happened in my life. I’ve been playing the victim in this story, by toying with the attitude of, “Oh my life is so hard, feel bad for me.” When really, at this point in my story, it’s time for the main character to step up and choose to shine.
There’s a fork in the road.
There’s a choice to be made.
Life or death.
When I choose life I realize that my life is an abundance of blessings.
Hannah is not bringing me down.
My life isn’t over.
Hannah is helping me figure out what it means to be fully alive. She interacts with strangers with a sweet innocence that I could only hope for. It’s not complicated. She says what she means. You can read what she feels on her face.
Hannah is the funniest person I know and she knows it too. I’ve never laughed so hard. The way she interprets things gives me stories that I could go on and on about for days.
For example, when Hannah was asking where our mother was buried, I responded, “At the Veteran’s Cemetery in Augusta.”
“Where’s that?”
“By Taco Bell.”
“OUR MOM DIE AT TACO BELL?”
And she’s been telling everyone we meet that our mother died at Taco Bell.
Our new life together as mother/sister is one big beautiful mess.
As we push and pull and navigate our way through this life, I don’t know a lot but I’ve discovered one thing…
I thought that I was going to have take care of Hannah for the rest of my life. But, over these past few weeks, it’s become more and more evident, that she’s taking care of me.
We’re taking care of each other.
I’ve never been more sure that there is an ultimate plan, but at the same time I’ve never been so unsure of what that plan is.
All I know is that Hannah and I are up for the challenge. We’re here to live. We’re here to love. We’re here to change the world.
Here we are Lord, send us.
P.S. To everyone that has sent us cards, gift cards, checks, and prayers. THANK YOU! We know that we don’t have to do this life alone and that has made all the difference. 🙂
