To My Sisters

I was born in 1988, but before me there was a boy named Matt who was born in 1986, and before him in 1982, there was another boy named Ken. And we were the three children in my home.

There were none after me. And as often as I dressed up my cabbage patch doll and called her my sister, I never had a sister. And as often as I implored my mom to get me one, she never did.

The only sisters that I find myself having are those who are close friends, and those who are in Christ. You might think that it is not the same, but having two older brothers, it feels like it can’t be so much different: You let me wear your eyeliner and your clothes, though your shoes never have fit me. And we stay up before going to bed and talk about all of the “hes” and “hims”.

Fortunately, your “hes” and “hims” are much like mine, and the thoughts you have are much like mine, and in these similarities I find that, well, I have many sisters. And because you are my sisters, I want to take time to write to you out of love.

The other night, well, more like the other, other night, I was talking to one of my “sisters,” and we both had a revelation. And this is it:

Just because we’ve grown up surrounded by “hims” and “hes” who say the wrong things, and do the wrong things, and forget, and seem to lose our names amongst a list of names, and are never there when.., and use too many words to beat around the bush…well, they aren’t the only “hims” and “hes.” In fact, if you didn’t already know this, I’m telling you because until a few days ago, I hadn’t really made the distinction between the two.

Growing up, just as you did, I’ve grown up with the same guys you did. And some of them, you’ve categorized as “alright” since they seemed pretty sincere when talking with you, and they weren’t angry drunks, and though you doubted them when they said things like, “I’ll call”, or” I’ll remember”, or “I’ll be there…” you knew that “deep down” they were really nice guys.

In fact, you were so convinced of this (them being nice guys), that when they actually did forget, or acted the part of the jerk, or did some other “guy” thing, you were actually shocked. And your feelings were hurt, and maybe your heart was hurt, but in the end, you knew that guys were just guys.

Here’s the thing I’m getting to, “Guys are just guys” is basically giving guys who act like jerks the excuse that it’s ok for them to be punks because all the other guys do it. And if you grew up in the same town as me, then all of the other guys really were doing it, and the ones who did it just a little less than the others seemed great, so when they forgot just a little less often, or said something wrong a little less often, well, you considered them nice guys…

I realized the other, other day, that all of the things that I want my guy friends and far into the future husband to be aren’t ridiculous. And this whole time, due to thinking that "guys are just guys," I thought they were…

Guards my heart…
Is considerate and kind
Little things are important
Cares about me
Is honest
Loves the Lord

Those are basically the things I wrote down on a pink piece of paper when I was thirteen about the kind of relationship (and I would say friendships) I wanted. And I don’t even know how many times I’ve wanted to erase something here or there because it seemed “unrealistic”; Like wanting the person you’re dating- or friends with- to care, or to guard your heart, or to be honest, or to remember you, is asking too much of them.

I don’t know if you do this too. Do you lie awake and dream about the kind of man who is going to be sweet, and leave you little notes, or bring you flowers, or call you because he misses you, and then feel guilty for wanting too much, or childishly hoping for too much? Do you let “guys be guys” because you don’t know the difference? Do you let “guys be guys” because you don’t want to be too demanding? D you let “guys be guys” because you didn’t know there was another kind….because I have.

There is another kind. I’ve caught glimpses of him. He puts others before himself, and he says the right things when you need him to, and he’s there when you need him to be, and he says he’s sorry when he should, and he’s patient, and he’s kind, and even if he is just a friend, all of the above still holds true. And he is rare, and that’s why it’s so easy to forget that he isn’t just a dream you had, or an idea that flickered in your mind.

Don’t believe me? Go read Song of Solomon. All of those things that I wanted, and maybe you wanted, are there. And they are just as beautiful as you and I “imagined” them to be. And I’m encouraged to want them as much as I always have.

What would be the point of hunger if there were no such thing as food? And what would be the point of these “silly” desires for honesty, and love, and tenderness if they didn’t exist? There wouldn’t be, BUT there is hunger because there is food, and we have these desires, because those things we thought we dreamed up exist, in relationships and in friendships, because God created them, and Song of Solomon is testimony to that. And though some of us are called to longer times of singleness, and even permanent singleness, I believe that many of those things can still be found in God.

I wanted to tell you to forget about those guys who keep forgetting you. I wanted to tell you to let go and move on past the guys in junior high or high school or college who said the wrong things and left you feeling like you were less than you are. I wanted to tell you that “he” exists, as rare and almost invisible as he seems sometimes, “he” exists. I wanted to tell you that you aren’t demanding, you aren’t asking for too much, and it’s ok to have “silly” lists with things on it like, “misses me, and cares, and is honest, and pursues me.”

I wanted to tell you that, as my sister, I love you, and your little notes, and flowered diaries, and hopes are just as real, and tangible as mine.