Or maybe I'm a Mini-Her. I'm older. She's taller. I don't know which counts more. All I know is that we're basically the same. It used to be that we just looked like. It's obvious (to most) that we're sisters. Some would be fooled into thinking we're twins. At the very least, we force the unsuspecting to do a double-take. But lately, our resemblance has deepened beyond our appearance. I see in her everything I feel in myself. She is a reflection of my own spirit. Our souls sing the same song.
She left today. In my car. It's almost like I'm going with her. We didn't cry. We smiled and hugged and waved goodbye.
Then she started to drive away. I was taking lots of pictures. She was annoyed, I'm sure. But I couldn't help it. I love her so much!
I turned to go inside, but I couldn't let her go. I needed one more picture. One last shot of her heading off toward the adventure God has prepared her for. I turned back. Not fast enough. I barely caught her before she was out of sight.
Panic overwhelmed me. I couldn't breath. It was like all the oxygen in my air had followed her. We had avoided the tears. We tried to avoid time. But in that moment on the driveway (and several since) I haven't been able to avoid either. The finality of that happy farewell is sinking in. So it is with wet eyes and a joyful heart that I say, Sister, I don't know when I'll get to hug you again, but my soul will sing with your's forever... a song of passion and adventure and fullness in Christ. I love you.