Heart in Transit

My thirteen year-old daughter broke down today. For some this may be a common occurrence, but not for her. She does get teary-eyed frequently because she is, after all, almost completely hormonal. But today my gut ached for her because she sobbed--the kind of crying when your breath comes in quick gasps. She is a heart in transit. We uprooted her from her beloved family and church and dog and friends when she was eight, and we promised her that there would be a better life in Austin for her. And just when she was really beginning to believe God smiled upon her in her Texas home, we did it again. She left everything she knew to move back to a memory--only the memory has moved on. I promised her today that she would build a new and amazing life here, and I honestly believe she will. She is funny and warm and doesn't take herself too seriously--something I didn't approach until almost forty. I know that her life will connect with others and be woven again into something beautiful.

But in the meantime

we wait . . . and cry.

Sista

If my sister-in-law were an element, she would be Earth. When I am with her, my roots dig deep and flex and curl, and then my soul soars. She is alive and ever-changing but has an undefinable stability about her.

She is my sista--she gets me, and I adore her. We talk about God and sex and books and parents and bitter disappointment and nieces who want cookies and pudding. We belly laugh and weep together. She is coffee with cream for me and the sweet smell of rain. She drinks red wine and talks REALLY LOUD and leaves me intoxicated with giddy laughter.

And I love her for that.