Everyday Life: What I Found in the Hours Between

At seven, I learned to pop my hip to the side, making a perfect seat on which my only baby sister would contently sit as I carried her around wherever I could.

She was joy wrapped in skin, cheeks chubby with wide smiles, ringlets of hair framing her face.

I lost years with her as we grew and I became too cool for a younger sister who tagged along and would never stop singing.

I remember telling her if she could just be quiet, she could stay, but inevitably, almost every time, she would catch herself in song.

You can't silence a song bird, you know, and who in her right mind would ever want to, I ask myself now.

When I lost my cool, she found hers. A college student herself and me freshly married, we didn't quite see eye to eye until life came hailing down on top of our heads and we lost the man we called dad.

She drove us to the hospital one day before he died.

And she sang almost the whole way there.

I'll never forget the way I felt when I heard song slip from her lips on a drive into the darkest day ... like heaven spilled a little bit of peace out of its gates and I got to bask in it for a few minutes.

God is the God of second chances even when it seems like death is winning. The day our father died, I cried in my sister's arms.

The older melting into the younger, like she used to melt into my arms as a baby, while realizing the gift of grace God meant a sister to be.

As if that gift weren't enough, she moved into the spare bedroom of our house just a few months later, and I silently thanked God for making more time to live beneath the same roof after the time I had naively squandered.

We laughed a lot. We threw dance parties with the boys on cold, rainy days. We shared coffee in the early mornings.

It wasn't long until someone else discovered the gift I had found in her, and swept her off her feet and into marriage and then motherhood.

Photo by Julie Valkanet Photography

But blessings were like a fountain, the newly weds and then family of three living just down the street from my own little family.

In laws like brothers, cousins like siblings, aunts and uncles like another set of parents ... and sisters like, well, sisters. But in the way God meant it instead of the way I once saw it.

I waved goodbye this morning, after they packed the final boxes at their home right down the street, kissed the soft cheeks of my niece, more joy wrapped in skin, just like her mother.

Instead of a few measly miles in between our houses, there will now be hours upon blasted hours.

As I hugged her, I cried and she wrapped me up in her arms. 

I remember the years I wish I could reclaim, the ones I took my sister for granted; I think of the ones that have been redeemed.

I think of the miles that are going to be the space between us

the hours that will separate us

and I know, like I couldn't have once known but understand now years and life later,

all of that space can't hold

the song she keeps singing

and those hours 

can't steal the gift of a grace that is sisterhood

and that what I've found

in the hours

in the space

in between

her own heart

and mine

are strings tied together

that go to the whole distance

mile by long mile

and hour by long hour. 

Bigger Picture Moment: On Time and Blood and the Thickness of Both

Each Thursday we come together to share the harvest of intentional living through sharing a piece of life gleaned: a picture, words, creation or list; just come to the table with the beauty in the simple moments of the week. Link up your gleaned moment this week BELOW!

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As penned by my sister, Jill ...

When my father passed away, I was 21. During the very few weeks leading up to his death I spent the weeks with my sister driving back and forth to the hospital. We would talk on the car rides up, spend all day together in the waiting room, then continue our conversations on the drive back. For some reason I don't remember to conversation, but I do remember us playing "Time Bomb" by The Format, over and over again and eventually learning to words where we were singing along.

We didn't always get along. In fact, in my eyes she wasn't my older sister most of the time. She was a second mother who took the reigns when our mother was at work. Sometimes she would make me breakfast, then we would walk to the park, then come back and watch t.v. together.

As we got older, I became the little sister that was her shadow. I always wanted to be with her, and play with her and her friends. She even took me trick-or-treating with her and her cool friends. (Yes, that's me dressed as Barney.)

I tried to hang with the big kids. I would try and be "fearless" to fit in with them. Like the time Hyacynth mentioned, when she pulled me in our red Radio Flyer wagon. I told her, "Hyacynth, it's too bumpy. SLOW DOWN!"

My sister then replies to me, "If I go faster the bumps will go away."

Trusting my older, much smarter sister, I nodded my head up and down to give her the go ahead to go faster. Big mistake. The wagon tipped over and she ran me over breaking my finger. I remember crying and crying how mad I was and how wrong she was. I still never let her live this down.

I was sifting through pictures and noticed the older we got, the less pictures we took together. We were always in different stages of our lives. There's a 6 year age difference between us, so when she was in high school, I was still in elementary school and we didn't have too much in common. As I look through my computer files I'm enjoying looking at gems like these.

Then I see a huge gap. No more pictures of just her and I, just forced family photos. I guess you could say we "grew apart" for some time. She was in college and didn't come home very often. Then she got married and had kids. She would visit on the weekends, but by that time I was in high school and cared more about my friends and was a typical teenager. 

While my dad was sick, we became really close and after he passed away he continued to grow in our relationship together. She started to become more than a sister, she was becoming a friend. Then at the age of 21, I needed a change. I saw myself falling into a black hole, spending more time with the wrong people in the wrong places. I saw myself slipping quickly. I think God was showing my sister and brother-in-law too. We joked that I could work for them, but then it turned into a serious offer. (Cue Godfather voice) They gave me an offer I couldn't refuse. I was going to move 2 hours away and live with and work for them.

Oh boy, did my life change. I went from living with just my mom and having all my friends by me, to living with not only my sister, but a brother-in-law, a 3 year old and a 1 year old and having no friends around me. I found myself bonding more with my sister and finding drinking and being wild less desirable. I found my way back to living a life for God and not for worldly things. Photos between my sister and I went from forced and fake smiles to this:

and this.

Soon, I met my husband and fell in love, moved out, and created my own family. It's amazing how God brought the tragedy of my father's death into a blessing within my sister and mine's relationship. I thank God every day that I lived with my sister, that he moved her and John to let me live with them, and give me a job. I'm so thankful that I was brought out of a life that was going nowhere except a dead end job and wasting my time doing stupid things. So dear sister, I love you. Thanks for being my best kind of friend when I needed you the most.

While I'm on a writing hiatus this week, my sister Jill is sharing stories here in this space; hope you enjoy her as much as I do!

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Share a picture, words, creation or list; just come to the table with the beauty in the simple moments of the week.. 

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Reflect on the blessings that were apparent to you this week.

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Bigger Picture Moments: She Was

At first, she was all feet and hands pounding against my mother's rounding stomach, a baby with two names -- one for a boy and one for a girl.

Then she was this long, lanky little thing that emerged into the world on a cold February night while I sulked on my grandparents' stairs, having been left at home with my grandpa while my mom and grandma went to the hospital for her delivery.

Soon she was all chubby cheeks and smiles and so cute to lug around on my 6-year-old hip, cooing and batting dark lashes over bright blue eyes.

And before long she became the tag-along I babysat and dragged along with me places at either her or my mother's persistence.

Before I knew it, though, she grew older and realized that cool had a definition other than her older sister, and I sank into college life while she began finding herself

and the sister that I knew was no longer the sister that I had known -- long and lanky, chubby cheeked and always talking.

She was this person, alive and real and not just mine or ours but someone else's, and I couldn't put it all together until

she landed on our doorstep, 20 and unsure of where she wanted to go or what she wanted to do, but here, nonetheless, calling a big bedroom and the place beneath our roof home.

And in a huge deliverance of grace

I found out who she was.

In that sweet time-gift of just 11 months together living as a adults in the same space

I finally realized that she wasn't just my sister

but more so a dreamer

a cheerleader

a born-nurturer, comforter

a make-you-laugh-'til-you-pee-your-pants everyday comedian

a daughter of the King

who is more than what I ever acknowledged growing up.

And in that mercy gift of time spent together sharing the same four walls and roof

He delivered her into a wife and mother

and us from

only blood-bonds

sharers of womb and mother

and same home-spaces

into the kind of friends

who intertwine their lives purposefully

vine by beautiful vine.

*****

Starting next Tuesday, I am SO excited to have the honor of being able to introduce you to my sister and friend, Jill!

While I'm on a little hiatus from blogging, Jill's going to be telling stories -- like how she was a rock-star during the home-birth delivery of her daughter and maybe also about how our mother gave us mullet hair cuts when we were younger along with an apology letter she penned her sweet baby E regarding the former hair debacle and genetics.

She'll probably also try to tell you about the time I was pulling her in a wagon and went around a corner too fast and tipped the wagon thus breaking her finger. And she'll probably tell you I was being a little snot when I did that, and probably, you'll believe her because she's the charming, younger sister ... and if you do, we can still be friends. Because I don't blame you; she *is* charming.

She'll be hosting Bigger Picture Moments here next week, so be sure to show her some love?

This week, we're sharing life at Corinne's! Join us?

Everyday Life: Redefining Beauty by Bathroom Mirror

Size four.

I slip my hips into size four black pants, chic, designer hand-me-downs.

I don't expect them to fit, honestly, but they zip and button and latch.

Haphazardly, I decide to wear the pants, straight-legged and fitted, to my sister’s baby shower, thankful for clothes that fit without cost, grateful for a healing, healthier body and slightly awed at this drastically new shape I have yet to fully embrace.

I’d spent years wrestling with body envy in the name of fashion before I shifted the focus from two-piece swimsuits and skinny jeans to healthy heart, healthy body mass and healthy thoughts. Slowly, my mind has shifted as my body has transformed that what makes the body beautiful has less to do with clothes and more to do with how it’s been created.

That I have strong legs, a healthy heart to carry me after little boys who play escape down the neighborhood sidewalk.

That my hips can carry an extra 30 pounds of crying child, my lips can kiss away hurts.

That my arms can hold tight my husband in full embrace.

That my body has twice grown new life and nourished children and a marriage.

During the middle of the party, I sneak off to the bathroom for a quick break and am confronted by a full-length mirror next to the sink, my long-time worst enemy and truthful friend.

Normally, I look away, but today I take it all in, this new shape.

My sister steps out of the bathroom stall, all belly and beautiful and glowing and her frame, too, is now next to mine in the full-frame reflection of the mirror, and I can't help but stare at two bodies that are perfectly imperfect and capable of so much more than I ever used to appreciate.

I’m absolutely overcome with the lovely she’s radiating, how she’s simply overflowing with life, her shirt and skirt perfectly accentuating soft curves, how her size-four body has lovingly and achingly stretched to make room for another small body, has given and grown to bring forth a tiny gift to our family, our world.

From inside those long-envied size four pants, I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t willingly trade them in for the flowing skirt she’s wearing at that very moment. 

Because beauty to me now is much less about the size four pants and much more about what fills them {baby bump and beyond}.

Marriage: On holding the bouquet

In my mind being a member of a bridal party means more than just holding a bouquet full of vibrant and sweet-smelling flowers while wearing a pretty dress; it also means helping create memories for the bride and groom as well as witnessing the vows made and helping the couple hold fast to those promises during their every-day life together.

But I must admit -- when my sister asked me to be her matron of honor in her wedding, I was totally psyched about two totally wedding-related things: planning and executing the bachlorette party and writing the toast/after-dinner speech.

These words for my little sister and new brother in law literally fell from my fingers and onto the page as one of my most effortless writings ever, so I'm documenting them here as a virtual memory from their beautiful day {with a sneak peak of some pictures}.

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Mike, I have to let you in on a little something.

This isn’t the first time I’ve helped my little sister get all dolled up for her wedding.



We’ve done this before.

When Jill was about four years old, she married the little red-headed neighbor boy we all adored at least four times during the course of one lazy, small-town summer.

Lucky me, today, makes the for the fifth time I’ve helped my baby sister slip into a beautiful white, flowy dress, had the pleasure of brushing the ringlets of curl surrounding her sun-kissed face away from her blue eyes.

We’ve come a long way from your backyard weddings, haven’t we Jill?



We’ve walked together through quite a few different seasons of life in so many different strides – as baby sister with an older doting sister, as older bossy babysitting sister and younger always and forever talking and talking and talking younger sister, as teenagers years apart in phases of life and finally, as adults – roommates who then grew into sister friends – my favorite by far.

While life has taken you far from your farm-town roots and you’ve grown and stretched into a lovely woman, you’re still so much the same as when we were growing up.

You’re strikingly beautiful from the inside out.

You’re personable and friendly – and you still talk and talk and talk …. And talk.

Song saturates your life like music weaves into the lines of a musical.

You’re loyalty and dedication to family has remained steadfast, acting as anchors of love to those you hold most dear.

And your silliness permeates even the longest of days, often bringing lightness to heavy situations.

I know you well, sister. And I know you’ll take bring these qualities into your marriage, lacing the ribbons of your personality into the threads of your unity with Mike.



You’ll softly beckon his attention with your beauty – the kind that makes itself known through the curves of your body and the sparkling of your blue eyes as well as the type that flows from the innermost parts of your heart.

You’ll fill the silence of your home with conversation, and most likely, you’ll remember to lend a listening ear at least sometimes.

You’ll sing into your memories songs that will and take you both back to all the firsts and middles and ends and each moment in between, giving melody and harmony and lyric to the movie of your entwined life.

You’ll bind your loyalties to the family you’re making while blending together different lives and people you both hold dear.

And you’ll induce smiles– the sprawling kind during the toughest of days, when Mike is weary and needs to breathe out the heaviness of a hard day with laughter.

I know this in the depths of my core after living with you in the same house as kids and as adults. I’ll always hold close the time we spent as adults living under the same roof – happily soaking in the nostalgia of our living room dance parties to Ice Ice Baby with the boys and our early morning coffee dates in my living room.

So here we are, standing at the edge of your new life on your wedding day, celebrating your union with the man of your dreams we’ve all come to adore.

In my mind, it’s so far and yet so close to the backyard weddings of our childhood.



But this one is different by far: this time you really become one flesh, one heart with the man whose heart you’ve captured.

It’s our last wedding day hurrah for you, sister.

But please know that as you wind your heart strings together and become one, I – and each of the people who’ve loved you along the way – will support your new unity and lovingly lend you both plenty of ribbons of support to tie into your new life together as husband and wife.

Congratulations, Mike and Jill. I love you.

Thinking, that's all: So We Dance and Sing

My baby sister is getting married in two days, and it's all starting to become very real.



These past few months we've all trying to make sorts of what that means for her and for our family and for us, I think, too.

Because after having her live here for the better part of a year, she kind of has become part of everyday life in an ever-decreasing way, and, of course, that's as it should be when a woman grows up and out and into new skin, combining her life with the man she loves.

It's as it should be, I remind myself when she's not here for dinner or whatever else.

And maybe because I'm not great with big changes, and maybe because I cling to memories with the grip of a kid grasping a beloved doll, I've been focusing more on plans and preparations for her bachlorette party and the details -- the outfits and the gifts and the speech {Oh MY WORD THE SPEECH!} and the mustaches on a stick than the actual feelings that swirl and swell in my heart when I think of my little sister getting married.

And it's very unlike all three of the weddings I officiated for her in the backyard when she was four and dolled up in the fancy, ruffled dress she wore to our dad's wedding reception saying I do to the little red-headed neighbor boy we all adored.

Like, really getting married ... to a grown man and in that union she gains a business and a home of her own and a car and babies {someday, no rush}.

And these thoughts here -- the newness of what's to be coupled with the nostalgia of a childhood that's been and a year of togetherness as adults living life in the same house, well, it's enough to leave me a little breathless, forgetting to actually soak in this moment, this here, this now.

Because just as busyness steals away the days, so, too, does living in yesterday and tomorrow.

There's a snap back to reality when G, who has been focusing his energy on the practical, too, by intently practicing his sweet dance moves every chance he gets, begs me to turn on some "boy music" {code for male singing voices} that's good for dancing.

Like Ice Ice Baby {introduced to him by a certain sister of mine}.

Thankfully, he willing rocks out when Jimmy Eat World rocks the house and sways melodically along to Death Cab for Cutie and the like .

And it's good -- this rocking, this swaying of the house by song and lyric and melody because it means that the TV is off. {Did I mention that E now sneaks off while G and I are playing or cleaning or cooking and turns on not just the TV but also Netflix? Yeah -- kid is smart.}

But, also, there's goodness because it means that we're immersed in the present enjoying the music, the movements, the beauty of right here and right now, which is where I really I want to be.



I want stand strong in all of this and soak it up -- her wedding and these long days but short years of the boys' smallness -- while it's happening instead of reliving it in fractured pieces of memories.

So we dance and sing right here, right now not just as practice for the wedding, but as practice in really living within the actual moments of both the ordinary and extraordinary days.

Everyday Life: No Strippers Please

In my very humble opinion, there are only a few things left to be done at a bachlorette party a week before your baby sister gets married {and it has nothing to do with the, erm, shaking that normally accompanies beefy male strippers. *Shudder*. Ahem.}

1. Kidnap her for a girls' weekend at Timber Ridge Lodge in Lake Geneva, Wisconsin and crown her with a plastic bedazzled tiara

1.5 feed her bonbons to soften the blow of the tiara


2. Wine and dine her ...


2.5 so that when you pull out a mustache on a stick, she protests little before giggling and posing solo

2.75 and alongside her fabulous entourage

3. Explain the placement of the crystal body art she was gifted for her, hmm, creative endeavors during the honeymoon

4. Bring her blood pressure back down by treating her to an afternoon of spa pleasures

5. Remind her that even though her heart now belongs to the man of her dreams, she'll always have a space in yours and in all the people's hearts who have loved her so much along the way.

Happy wedding, baby sister. I hope the weekend before you exchanged your vows will live in your mind always as memory of a time and space you felt totally enveloped in love.

{AND -- Why, YES, I DID craft all of those photo booth props! And I'm sharing an easy-peasy photo-booth prop tutorial tomorrow. Trust me -- you want these at your next party or girls' weekend.}

In the interest of full disclosure, Timber Ridge Lodge gifted us with the media rate for our one-night stay in a full suite during my sister's bachlorette party. We had a fabulous time in Lake Geneva and at the Lodge, and I was not compensated to say that. As always, all mentions and opinions are garnered from any outstanding experiences I've encountered. To read more about my pledge while working with companies and brands, take a peek.