A few weeks ago, my mother and I had taken a ride out to Vacaville to search out some items my sister wanted for Christmas. I found myself walking through muck and mud in 4 inch heals and designer jeans. We laughed as I gingerly and futility tried to not appear as much of a priss as I was. I picked through where to step, feeling my heals sink into the ground, watching as my mother pointed and laughed. My ineptness of the moment cracked us both up and I commented on how I felt like such a city-slicker and my sister was such a country-bumpkin. How did we both come from our mother?
Later I learned my sister did not much appreciate the derogatory term I had used, and much to my dismay, it hurt her feelings. And truth be told, I felt terrible. It was not in any way shape or form what I had meant, but none the less, the wording was terrible and inaccurate. For all my articulation, I fall woefully short on many occasions to use words that really convey what I am feeling.
See, in that moment, I felt my inadequacy and it made me laugh. My sister has this unique ability to move in and out of many extremes with a sort of ease and grace I never seem to be able to muster. She wears cowboy boots as easily as platforms, jeans as easily as a designer dress. Somehow she inhabits the mysterious quality of inhabiting every place, moment and action as though it was made for her. Where I fumble and stumble over a little dirt, she can streak her face with mud and look better than Garbo on her best day.
I remember being in awe of my sister. She was always a little larger than life. Everything seemed to expand when she walked into a room. Men fell over themselves while women were either in love or hate with her, never being able to stay in one long. Grace expressed in movement and ease, presence bigger than reality, everything stood still while she happened by. Never fully aware of the effect she had, she always assumed it was her looks that stopped traffic. Little did she know, it was always so much more. Heartfelt warmth, genuine love and concern for others. Intelligence sparkling in her drawing everyone in to conversation, while her mind and heart never stop working. All of these forces coming together in a ridiculous package that should not be as possible as it is. She fits anywhere, anytime, any place, and owns it. It was quite a shadow to grow up under. Undefinable and needing of no pretense, or silly attempts to chameleon her way into making people like or love her, the basic ingredients of who she is naturally produced a sort of unpracticed sophistication; fierce elegance in a tiny package. It still, to this day, is amazing to watch.
I grew up inherently knowing, but never really being able to appreciate this stunning exemplification of extremes of life, so instead I sought to mimic it in every way possible. I think I am safe to say, my useless fight with a little grime proves my point of her uniqueness and my very ordinary inability to adapt as easily. At times it frustrated me to no end. At other times I used her easy fame as any younger sibling would: to gain notoriety myself. "Oh, yeah I'm Lisa Angella's sister. Yeah, that Lisa Angella." But still, jealousy comes easy in younger siblings and I had my share. As I grew though and watched her live no easy life, a deep sense of respect spawned from a once immature jealousy. Who she is, was hard fought for, and thus, has no cheap after-taste. The gold she is will leave no green stain on a finger.
Never have I seen someone with more dignity under fire. Her pure heart and confidence somehow shielded her from ever really being aware of the sort of power of her presence and life. I almost view her move to the country as an inevitability; no confined space can restrain her long. Wide open places seem to be more fitting. Freedom in raw power as she races a horse down a fence, or walks along the canal that runs along her road. Grander visions of unrestrained beauty. No pretense, just life. A vulnerability that can't be restrained by fences and quarter acre yards. She needs to breathe and the world needs to breathe with her, thus, no congested city road can stand to hold her.
While I spend an hour getting ready for work, she slaps on her boots and walks out to feed her horses. I come home and trade the pumps for uggs taking off the layers, moving from makeup artist to homebody with a necessary determination, becoming an essentially different person; yet she moves from those same boots to slippers to flip-flops to leopard skin pumps, never shading to her surroundings, rather her surrounds shading to her. Where I struggle for my image, hers comes easily and carefree, unabashed and unashamed. Few in life ever attain this sort of easy confidence, but somehow, she was born with it.
I will always fade into the background just slightly when she walks in a room, still feeling that typical reverence to an older sister, but it doesn't chafe the way it used to. The older I have gotten, the more respect for her I gain, the more life the Lord puts under my belt, the more I realize, when something of magnitude and beauty comes my way, taking a back seat is an honor. I'm proud to be her younger sister, to be excited to point the world her direction and say "Isn't she amazing? Isn't she wonderful? Be forever changed by her grace and love and heart!" In a way, I'm still that annoying kid sister that followed her around all the time. And while following her, she has taught me how to wear myself as comfortably as she wears herself. I may not be as good at it as she is, but she has alway lead the way, a fearless elder sister, carving a path for a younger, less attuned youth to follow. I can go there since she has paved the way.
The same strength she possess to bail hay, she extends to her faith. The same desire for beauty that causes her soul to long seeps out of her pores and onto all who come near. Those sort of qualities rarely find their satisfaction in the conformation that is required of sky-scrapers and traffic lights, but rather in a world that she can fight to tame much the same way she tames a horse. Passion restrained, only by need.
I envy her, her place in the world. Her easy maneuverability, grace and confidence. I still struggle to discover my own, but her life gives me hope. Her ability to be undefined or constrained, while still charming the pants off anyone that meets her is a thing of mind-boggling proportions. Thank God she never went into politics... on the other-side.
Happy birthday sister. I can't tell you how proud I am to call you my older sister. You still hold the same majesty to me you did when we were kids. I still want to be your best friend and do all the things you do. I still want your approval and desire your pride. You have forever made me who I am, for better or worse and I hope that makes you proud. No diamond in the rough, you are a polished stone, presented to the world as a true treasure. Never hide yourself, but always know how naturally and easily you carry your true heart on your sleeve. It's a site to behold and am I truly honored I have a front row privileged seat as your sister. I adore you so much. I'd give you my candy-bar any day all over again.
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