Picture this:
a river half a mile wide
full sized trees that could be alligators floating down said river
me, Aly and a family of 4 in a boat
for an hour and a half
said boat slowly leaking water
a weedwacker for an engine
surprise: the river is the Amazon River in Peru
from the back of the boat I hear them call,
“Hermanita! Hermanita! Como te llamas?”
What does this mean? Quite literally it means,
“Little sister, little sister! What do you call yourself?”
The only one who has ever called me “little sister” or at least had the rights to call me that is Katie Kuykendall. Katie is my 23 year old sister and the oldest of four.
Growing up it was hard to know my older sister because she was more than four years older than me and walked through a lot of things that I had no desire to. I had no idea what her life was like and the times that I did see or understand what she was going through it was because I overheard her and my parents talking and crying and working things out in our kitchen downstairs.
Now knowing more of what has happened, I realize the strength of my older sister and the faithfulness of God to her.
But in those years when I didn’t know, I began to put upon myself the role of older sister. I tried to be really mature really fast because something in my head said that I would make a better big sister than Katie was. I wanted to be in control, to make sure that everyone was okay. This idea that I was the oldest was only reinforced. During and after bickering with my younger siblings I was always told to be the bigger person. Even bickering with Katie I was encouraged to be bigger and more mature because I was capable of it.
This started a strive for perfection, a desire to always be right and a demand for respect.
I would put a lot of pressure on myself to bring peace to the household and gave myself no grace whenever I couldn’t stop the arguing amongst me and my siblings. And the only person I could blame was myself because no one asked me to step into that role, no one anointed me oldest sister. The favorite phrase among the four of us was “you’re not my mom” because the way that I tried to be mature and assertive failed and I came off as bossy. This only added to the pressure I put on myself to lead better and the lack of grace I had for myself when I couldn’t.
Flash forward, now I’m on the Race, stepping off of a dinghy into Nauta, Peru looking for wifi. There’s no wifi in the entire city so I pay $10 for data for the day and call my sister Katie.
She is so kind.
She says everything that comes to her mind, but I value her authenticity over anything.
She is so strong.
Everything that has come to pass in her life should have brought destruction, but in it she’s finding maturity and understanding of the way that the world works.
She is a lot smarter than anyone gives her credit for.
Sure she pronounces about 25% of what she says wrong, but she knows and understands so much more than I could imagine and she is an incredible student.
She is so passionate about things the Lord is passionate about.
The way that she loves kids continually blows me away, and she knows the power that children have in the kingdom of God.
She takes care of this chihuahua like its her child and never fails to show me her via FaceTime. She will talk to me for hours about the kids that she teaches and the teachers mentoring her and the pictures that my mom is planning on posting that she disapproves of. She confides in me and she trusts me and I couldn’t want anything more. My older sister truly is one of my greatest friends.
She calls me little sister.
Because that’s who I am.
In the kingdom of God I am not the oldest and I am not expected to be.
But I am a sister.
A sister doesn’t call the shots in the family.
A sister doesn’t save the siblings from getting hurt.
A sister doesn’t have all the answers.
A sister doesn’t compete with her siblings.
No.
A sister watches out for her brothers and sisters, but
a sister looks to the father to save.
A sister holds the hands of her siblings.
A sister listens well and encourages when she can.
A sister knows that she doesn’t have to be perfect,
because she has brothers and sisters to provide when she can’t.
The boat ride back from Nauta was spent pondering this idea of my identity as a sister. Gabriel (11) and Jesus (5) live on the farm in the Amazon we are staying at. Their parents call me “hermanita”. Jesus and I paint with water on the boat when we’re board and I still haven’t caught one of Gabriel’s paper airplanes.
They call me little sister, and it’s about time I start stepping into the role of one.
