I prefer the little people.

Part of me really loves college. Truly, I do. I thoroughly enjoy the late movies nights, campus ministry events, and occasional class of interest. And I am sure that I will appreciate my college education even more in later years if it helps me achieve a job with a paycheck that prevents me from living in a cardboard box on the corner of the street somewhere. But I want to know who thought it would be a good idea to cram young adults together on a campus from the ages of 18-24 and think that would in any way be a functional environment. And not only are the maturity levels of each individual differing colossally, let’s also throw in people from other countries so we can have further difficulty understanding one another, as if humans weren’t complex enough. Now don’t get me wrong, I adore diversity. In fact, one of my favorite things about Troy is the amount of international students I get to experience on a daily basis. But with all these factors working together the concept of college alone is absolute madness.  If you are fortunate, and among the vast majority, Americans are born into a fairly regular home environment. They have a mom and a dad and sometimes siblings and they are raised in a home. And in this home, you are taught a certain set of values and core beliefs, whether this is taught verbally or through actions and example. You form your first few ideas about life in this atmosphere, and it shapes your outlook on the rest of the human experience either purposefully or subconsciously. You continue growing and you spend more and more time away from your home in other settings that both test your original beliefs and help you form new ones. But at any given time in your pre-college life, there were always people surrounding you that believed close to exactly what you did, and were extremely supportive of the lifestyle that assimilated with their own. If you were an only child and had never understood the concept of sharing, you went to elementary school and a teacher helped you along the path of learning such a thing, and that became a staple rule for being a part of that classroom. Everyone around you supported and adopted the same set of rules. Or if you went to middle school and your teacher asked you to write a paper on evolution and you made the decision not to, you had your family at home that stood behind you because of their faith that was the same as yours. But in college you live with, sit next to, and eat by people with a completely different set of beliefs and values. You can literally walk into a room on your first day and end up sleeping in the same room as someone with an enormously opposite outlook on life. And at times, that can be very exciting. I can’t even begin to describe all the things I have learned from people because they have been so wonderfully different from me. But it can also be quite discouraging, and lonely, and can very quickly make you feel as though you have lost all sense of community. This will be my third semester in college and I have certainly found a home in my church here. I know that when I need to be surrounding by people with the same eternal goal as I, my place there is always waiting for me. But I also spend many evenings just frustrated with people around my age. If there is one thing I have learned by being in college, it is that I prefer the little people. The hardest thing for me about being a young adult in a college city is the lack of children. 18-24 year olds positively baffle me. Even more so than middle and high schoolers. Because at that age, we had an excuse. We were young, our brains weren’t fully developed, our hormones were crazy, it’s part of being that age, etc. Fine. But I look around me at halfway grown adults and cannot even fathom what the heck some of them are thinking half the time. Somehow some people have wandered around on this earth for more than 18 years and have yet to learn a thing. And I don’t mean the freshman that come to school not knowing how to do laundry (although that is fairly ridiculous in it’s own right). I mean, how did we make it this far in life and still not understand or know how to treat PEOPLE. It shouldn’t be a foreign concept at this point. Not only have we been surrounded by people our entire lives but we also spend most of our education talking about, people. And these people are either discussed because they treated people well, or they treated them poorly. Think about it. Some of the most famous men you studied in history. Martin Luther King Junior, treated people well. Adolf Hitler, treated people poorly. Jesus, treated people well. Joseph Stalin, treated people poorly. Abraham Lincoln, treated people well. Osama Bin Laden, treated people poorly. So not only do we have enough life experience ourselves, we also have written examples of how to treat people, and how not to. MLK teaches us to treat people equally, while Hitler shows how NOT to handle bitterness with a particular race. Jesus teaches us to treat people with love and kindness, while Stalin shows us how to be a murdering jerk. And Lincoln teaches us how to treat people with respect and show honesty, while Bin Laden shows us how to be a real coward. But after all of these things we STILL manage to mess this up on a daily basis. We cheat and we lie and we hurt people regularly. And we convince ourselves the things we do aren’t a big deal. I’m not putting anyone in a gas chamber, so lying to my friend isn’t that deep. But remind yourself of a time you were lied to, and be honest with how deep that hurt really goes. Anytime I sit down to talk to my friends here in Troy, 97% of their stress is not based on actual school or financial problems or health issues. Almost always their problems are rooted in people. Other people trying to survive this life just as we are that somehow can’t manage to treat each other with respect. I appreciate that golden rule of “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you”, that’s certainly a valid point and something to be thought about. But let’s take a second. This verse, is found once in the Bible. That’s the only time they bother to bring it up. But in the King James Version of the Bible the word “love” is used 310 times. I certainly think that is a testament as to what our motives should be. Doing unto to others as you would have them do to you, comes from such a selfish place. It’s a good illustration, but it’s easy to confuse why we are acting the way we are. Is this so I don’t get bad Kharma, or do I truly care about how my actions are affecting others? But if we can grasp the concept of love, if we can embed that in our hearts and make that the sole motivation of our being, we could start of revolution. A revolution of people that cared. And it would be weird. People would notice. Because that is not our natural inclination. It’s not a part of human nature. But what if every action we made in a day, was made out of love?  We didn’t lie, because the thought of hurting someone else with false words would break our own hearts. We wouldn’t cheat, because we would love ourselves enough to do things correctly and courageously. There would be no sexual impurity, because we would care about our partner enough to guard his or her mind and soul. There would be arguments, because the need to be right would seem unimportant against the feelings of another person. I think that is why children are so easy. Love IS in their nature. It is as simple as breathing. They radiate purity and wholeness. Being around them heals me. They make me a better version of myself. And I miss that. But I am being called to a greater challenge right now. And that challenge is greater only because of my own flaws and shortcomings. I struggle to connect and understand college kids. And sometimes I get frustrated and want to shake them until they understand. But one of the most exciting things about being here, especially among our campus ministry, is watching people transform and seeing them “get it”, and being a part of a group of people that’s focus is above.  I am in no way doing this living thing perfectly. I know that I fail daily. But I also know that everything starts with a single step. So let’s start a movement of love.

Joy in the trials.

Sometimes, I like to throw myself a pity party. Mind you I try to keep these parties to a minimum, and I tend to only invite a few people, but occasionally I find myself sitting on the floor of somewhere crying over my really not-so-rotten life to some poor soul that is stuck listening to me because they were foolish enough to offer. This person usually ends up being my dad, and because we no longer live within the same house, it’s usually over the phone so he has really no way of escaping. Poor guy. To defend myself, I’m being dramatic. It is very rare that I allow myself to do this. But sometimes, especially as a female, you need to sob and ramble on about every terrible thing that has happened to you over the past five years. Or longer if it’s a real good come apart. So the other day one of these scarce break downs happened upon me and I found myself on the phone with my daddy telling him all about how much I was hurting and how awful it was and after consoling me on the situation for a while my dad finally said, “Well, just another learning experience out of the way.” I of course responded with, “But dad, I’m TIRED of learning experiences..” because I wasn’t quite done feeling sorry for myself, but distance from the conversation, and some healing time, has allowed me to look at that statement and find it to be comforting and even slightly, joyful. How selfish of me not to yearn for “learning experiences”!! Because even during the terrible, awful, no good, very bad ones, you grow. And growth is a beautiful thing. I believe losing Bailey was absolutely essential for my adulthood. That statement in and of itself sounds terrible, but it’s something I am truly convicted in. God used that to prepare me. He taught me things in that horrifying experience that have made my life today, functional. For example, I used to absolutely stink at accepting any form of help. And asking for it? Simply out of the question. When I was dealing with things I wanted to be left alone. I wanted to crawl into my little corner of the universe, take an hour or two to deal with it, and then come out, and move on. And I wanted the whole world to move on with me and not pester me about it. If I said I was fine, I was fine. And for anyone to come in and pet on me or attempt to comfort me or offer me anything of any kind, was offensive to me. I don’t need your help, I didn’t ask for your help, I am not your project, good bye. But when you have a congregation of roughly 750 members all doing their best to give you what you need in EVERY possible form, you learn (QUICKLY) how to graciously accept their advances. I also used to be terrible about acting like things didn’t happen. Especially in any sort of romantic situation. If there was a break up I pretended that person had died. Completely disintegrated into the earth, gone to all those that knew him. And I never dealt with any of my emotions. I just convinced myself and others that I was okay, simply by acting like I was. And then God showed me I couldn’t handle everything in life that way. Then I used to have a really bad habit of feeling as if I always had to look like I had everything put together. That is one I struggle with to this day. I have this ridiculous need to have my perpetual game face on. I must look strong and never weak, because the weak get taken advantage of and the strong are respected. But I have learned there is something beautiful about a humble heart and a broken spirit. And recently, I have adopted a method of self-preservation that has opened my eyes to a completely new world. I don’t always have to do what makes me look confident or like I have it all figured out. I don’t have to win the “who is most over this situation game.”  I am at peace with stepping away from that fight and doing what’s best for me, even if that makes some question my inner strength. Sometimes you have to find your own peace, and be okay if it’s not how everyone else seeks it.  I’ve always laughed at the verse in Romans that says we should rejoice in our sufferings, because it produces endurance. It’s one of those verses that I look up and God and think, “Come on, you’re a smart guy, you can’t actually think we were going to be able to do this, right?” And I can’t say that I have done any rejoicing lately over the fact that Bailey isn’t here. But I will say I have come to a place where I can find joy in her memory, and peace in her death. Contentment in missing her, and confidence that this is exactly how it was supposed to be. I don’t enjoy life’s “learning experiences”. I think it is safe to say that nobody does. But God, my Almighty Father, Creator, and the Great I Am holds me in His righteous hand. And through all the things He has pulled me through, I am confident that He will not fail me today, or tomorrow, or the day after that, or any day to come. And that faith will always bring me the comfort and peace that I need.

Content

I am naturally a happy person. It is not hard for me to find joy in everyday life. I don’t require anything extravagant, the simple fact that I am breathing is enough to make me smile. And for the most part, it’s hard to take that away from me. I have worked on learning not to let others dictate my outlook on a single second, for every second I allow myself to be bitter because of someone else’s actions, I give them the control of my own. Happy is not an issue. My biggest struggle as a human being, is contentment. Many people would believe that those are one in the same, but I believe that they are incredibly different and frankly contentment is a far more difficult state to reach than happiness. The word happy is defined as “delighted, pleased, or glad over a particular thing.” It is impossible for anyone actively involved in the human experience to not have had a moment of happiness. Happiness is not contingent on circumstances, it is simply a feeling created by a particular thing regardless of its surroundings. And because “happy” is a reaction, it can change just as quickly. You can have a moment happiness, but contentment is an actual state of mind. Content is defined as “being satisfied, an eased mind.” Now that’s tough. The past year and a half of my life has been one big decision after another. Do you go to college right after Bay dies, or do you wait? Do you go to Houston, or do you stay? Do you take the Disney internship, or go to school? Do you go back to Troy, or try somewhere different? And each decision has thrown me into completely different cities with completely different people and completely different plans. As difficult as that could be at times, I love change. I feel that if I am always moving, I am always growing. I am terrified of becoming complacent. I never want to become too comfortable, if I am always searching I will always discover, and with discovery comes continued awestruck wonder in my God. But here I am, at 19, and I’m stuck. Confined by superficial expectations and social stigma, going to a four year college to get a degree in “who knows what” to do “who knows what” with my life. And the frustrating part is, I KNOW what this is life is about. I understand and believe with no doubt that the only thing my heart and soul should yearn for is my Lord and Savior. I get that His spirit is my breath and life and all I want to do is praise Him and spend my life encouraging His followers and worshipping Him for all of His greatness. All I want to do from the time I wake to the time I rest is SERVE HIM. But I have to have a degree? I need a resume? And beyond that, this life requires money? And I have to find a way to make money, so that I can pay money, to serve? How incredibly frustrating! So I cry out to God, “I want to be sent, I want to GO, I am ready to go and be that disciple!” But God says, “Wait.” And I respond, “I am tired of waiting!” But God replies, “Be patient.” And I reason with God saying, “You have given me a spirit that is willing to move. I have the heart of a nomad, and I have learned all I can here, send me.” But God says, “Find peace, and be content.” I tend to wander. And when I go on these wandering quests I will walk, sometimes for hours, with these thoughts wrestling themselves in my mind. And lately I have focused these thoughts into prayers and my prayers have become centered around the sole idea of contentment, and what that could mean for my life. I can’t name a time in my life that I can honestly say I was content. I am never satisfied. I am always looking for the next thing and sometimes in spite of my drive and determination, I get ahead of myself and neglect the things that could be worked on now to look into the future on what can come next. My Father knows this. He knit me inside my mother’s womb. He created in me a spirit of fearlessness but allowed Satan to plant the seed of discomfort. And there comes a point when you must put aside your strength, in order to address your weakness. I may not be a huge fan of education, and I may not see that point in it at all. I may be ready to know what my life will look like. But right now, God is calling me to be content. To find ways to grow where He has placed me, rather than look for the next place I can go. To excel in the little things, until He has something bigger set up for me. To allow myself to be satisfied in His spirit, and let the rest fall into place. To ease my mind and shut out the doubts whispered by Satan, and be confident in the person I am being right now, whether I feel I am being extraordinary or not. Extraordinary people are not created by searching for ways to become great, they are found in the moments that greatness was required and they were brave enough to stand. My sister had a way of pouring herself into everything she did. I have a terrible habit on focusing on one thing and being completely perfect in that, but allowing everything else to fall to the side. Not Bailey. She found a way to achieve a balance and because of that, showed Christ in all aspects of her life. So my focus for this semester is just that. Aside from working on my patience, I am praying that I find contentment. And in finding contentment I achieve a balance. A balance that allows me to throw myself into everything I do full force with the simple motivation of showing Christ through it, so that all I do reflects my love and dedication to Him. Only bad part of having Bay around as such a great example is she made it look so easy. Hard to live up to that stinker, but I don’t mind living every day trying.

All I can say.

Dear Bailey,

At three years old, I was granted the greatest role of my entire life. At the time I was unaware of its implications and the true severity of this honor God had given me, but nonetheless I became the older sister of a blonde haired, green eyed little girl. You came into my life quietly, and remained that way most of the time. You were sweet, and passive, and happy to do whatever I wanted. And you did. We would play tea party for hours, but only if I got to pour the tea. We could play pretend for days, but I had to assign the parts. And you normally ended up as a tree or the male. Yet after all this abuse you still found a way to absolutely adore me and rarely had any problems with any of my stipulations. Maybe you didn’t know better. Maybe I was intimidating or convincing. Or maybe you just understood that loving me, was more important than beating me. But those things were small. No harm done there. We were children. We lived in light and danced in happiness. But things changed. Teenage years came around and the light turned to dark and confusion was the only thing dancing and I became a person you didn’t recognize. A person you couldn’t possibly have been proud of. A person you were ridiculed to even be associated with. But with a strength I will never understand, you managed to love me through it. You could spend a day at school filled with people trashing my name and telling you dreadful things about me, but you could still come home and lay on my bed, and ask me about MY day. You believed in me, when very little had the ability to do so. And then I came back. The light wins, victory is ours and we are reunited again. For a little while. But then someone needed you more. For whatever reason you were called away from this earth and for the first time in our lives, we were separated. But I persevered. And here we are a year later and the light is still prevailing. And when I think of these things, I can’t help but feel like I have heard a form of this story before. There seemed to be another man that loved those that didn’t deserve his love. A man that was ridiculed for his seemingly immoral company. A man that believed in those that no one else could. A man that was taken from this earth to serve his higher purpose elsewhere. And it completely baffles me that my entire life I looked for Jesus. I looked for a living breathing person that I could see Jesus in. And as I was searching, God continued to throw the answer in my face. I asked you to move over so I could see past you and continue looking for this outstanding example. But you were right there. YOU were what God was trying to show me.
There are no words for this day. There is no way to form thoughts around the dread and anxiety that comes with this date. You my dear, may never understand the tremendous impact you had on this earth. Even if I were able to tell you, you would not believe me. Sometimes we play the “if it had been me” game, but I have found such comfort in knowing that God planned this perfectly. Your voice, even in death, is so much louder than mine. And I tried my entire life to be loud. But that wasn’t the point, was it? Because while I was putting on a show and trying to PROVE who I was, you were just quietly living it out. And that’s what made the difference. You didn’t need a stage or a flashy song, you were happy to humbly serve your God in your way. And that’s the real lesson here. The loudest voice, the moving leaders, and the most effective examples are quite simply, the sincere.  The Christians that are willing to live out their lives humbly, and possibly without any credit at all.
You need to know that I am fine. In fact, I am the lucky one. I got a chance to spend 15 years of my life with the greatest person this world has seen in a long time, and I even had the honor of calling her my sister and my best friend. I know I will always miss you. And this will hurt in years to come. I will want you at my wedding, and that is not possible. I will want you to be an aunt to my children, but that cannot happen. I will need you when our parents die, but you cannot be here. I will want you to grow old with me, but that is also out of reach. And I wont lie to you and tell you I wont cry. There will be days that I am angry, and days that I am happy. Sometimes I might be bitter, and others I might be positive. There will be days that I triumph in every way, and there will also be days that I sit in the bottom of the shower and bawl. But that’s okay. I count it all as gain. I am so thankful that the Lord gave me someone that was this hard to lose. This kind of love doesn’t always happen, and I cant imagine a life where this didn’t hurt as much as it does! Because that would have been a life without your love. So after a year, here is what I need to say.
Thank you. For being the most caring, compassionate, wonderful sister a girl could ever have.
 I’m sorry. For all the times I made it difficult to be my sister.
And here’s what I ask of you in the future. When I grab my necklace know that I am directly connecting with you. It’s my way of holding your hand. When I sing, know I am at my happiest, and you need not to worry. When I speak, know that I feel wildly accomplished and your always in the crowd in my head. When I give, know that I usually picture you as the recipient. When I write, know that I feel closest to God. It’s the one time I am able to strip down my walls and truly be a vessel. I feel the Holy Spirit move through my fingers and I would have never known about this channel without you. When I scratch the back of my neck, know that I am stressed and I could use some peace if possible. When I run, know that I am trying to clear my head, and help me keep it empty. When I cry, know I need to feel you there. I don’t care how, I just do. And when I smile, know that a large part of any happiness is due to you. And whenever either of those precious boys needs me, KNOW I will be there no matter what.
There is no graceful way to end a letter to Heaven. I really do not know if you “read” these or how any of that works, but I believe that in some way, you receive whatever message I am trying to send. I hope that after this year you are able to look down on me with some sort of pride. It was hard, but I did it all for you. I miss you, and I promise I will never ever stop trying. Every day I will wake in the morning and actively pursue the Lord and I will do whatever it takes to make it to you one day. And to bring everyone that I can with me. I love you sweet sister. Thank you for everything.

Your loving big sister,
Elise

Year One.

If you are ever a part of a funeral, you will find the phrase you hear more than any other is, “Time heals.” I’ve heard this before, and even applied it in certain times in my life. And in all other situations this is normally applicable. In middle school when rumors spread and you are the center of ridicule, you feel as if it is the absolute end of the world, but you soon learn that if you wait it out, two weeks later the ever so intelligent minds of middle schoolers will find someone else to talk about. In high school when you and the “love of your life” have broken up you feel certain that you will die right then and there from utter sorrow and separation anxiety. But after a month or so you find yourself back out with your friends, sometimes slowly mending, but eventually returning to your original state. But death is not that way. Because there is nothing to return to. Time doesn’t HEAL. Because healing would imply that it could be fixed. You refer to healing when you are speaking of a broken bone or a scrape. And you use the term “heal” because doctors or experts of some sort believe that the bone will grow back together and be just as good as it was before. And be normal. And when a cut heals it mends and tiny skin particles lace intricately to make it seem as though you were never hurt at all. And that’s healing. But there is no healing after death. It’s like becoming paralyzed. With assistance, you might be able to do most of the things you used to do. And you might even be happy again. But you will never go back to the way you were before. You will still look down every day and realize that you are paralyzed and remember how you got to be that way. You have to make almost every decision you made before, differently. Bailey is the first thought I have in the morning and the last thought in the evening. She determines the radio station, the candle scent, the color schemes, the movie selection, and my dessert; because all of those things can completely change my mood. I can’t listen to For Good or I Will Stand By You because she named them our “sister songs”.  I can’t have anything lime green because that was her color. I can’t have evergreen candles because of our little joke surrounding forest smells. I can’t watch My Sisters Keeper because we saw it together in theaters and cried throughout the whole thing on one another’s shoulders. I can’t have red velvet cake because it was her favorite and my mother loved to make it for her. And maybe I will be able to do these things again. I will reteach myself how to bare these memories. But either way, that loss controls those thoughts.

Time has never been a comforting thing for me. It terrifies me to live in a world without Bailey and time only inches me farther and farther away from her existence. Which further solidifies the frustrating fact that I have no control over time. So maybe that’s my real anger towards it. This month, has been impossible. Every memory I have of this time last year, is fresh and bright.. and she is there. And then I fast forward to that night. And whatever memory I was attempting to enjoy becomes screeching tires and a fatal car crash. Every happy memory feels disgustingly fake and forced. Because I know what happens next. I know that doesn’t last. The year marker brings new fears and puts others to rest. I have told myself all year, if you make it through the first year, you’ve won. And that triumph will still be in place. I will take joy in the spite I will throw at the devil. He challenged me with everything he had, and he lost. But I am also acutely aware of how things will change after this year is up. People are understanding of loss, to an extent. But many believe that a year is plenty of time to be “okay”. And honestly, I believed that as well at first. I was under the assumption that once I covered the “firsts” it would be easier, and I would miss her less. But what I have had to come to accept is that I am in for a lifetime of missing her. There is no finish line for grief. Missing her will never stop. So like someone paralyzed, there is no healing, there is only coping. There is learning how to live without your original mobility, even learning how to make the best of it. But there is no way to be completely whole again. With that being said, there are plenty of ways to fill your life to its absolute fullest through Christ Jesus. And the Lord has blessed me in so many ways this year through this tragic and awful thing. My Lord has grown from my distant God to my comforting Father and knowing God in that intimate way has truly been the most rewarding part of this year.  So what I have learned about time is this, it does not heal, but it does teach. It gives you a chance to distance yourself from a situation and truly understand and appreciate the blessings that came from it. The friendships that were formed or strengthened. The family bonds you have a new found appreciation for. The church family you might have taken advantage of before, or the community you were convinced you wanted to leave.  I am not ready for it to be a year, but I can say I am so grateful to have made it this far. The support system I have is overwhelming and I can’t thank half of you enough for the encouragement you have given me this year. I hope I am able to give back to you all in some way in the future. For now, I will write. And in that regard, thank you for listening. The positive feedback I continue to receive has allowed writing to become my safe haven of expression, the one place I am completely honest and shamelessly naked. I hope God will continue to use it in His way. Here’s to the upcoming year of learning, may it be as rewarding as the last. God bless you all.

National Sibling Day.

I woke up today in a terrible mood. Which is very odd for me, but true nonetheless. God continued to give me opportunities to turn this around and make today a good day, and like the stubborn child I am I shot them to the ground and allowed myself to remain grumpy.  I wasted an entire day pouting. And I justified all of this simply because it is apparently National Sibling Day. Instead of scrolling down my Newsfeed or Instagram and smiling at the happy faces of brothers and sisters of my friends, I let bitterness creep into my heart and I frowned feeling sorry for myself. But by this evening I had finally had enough of my pity party and I decided to sit down and pray. And in this prayer I decided to tell God all of the reasons I was thankful He made me a big sister, and how grateful I am for each sibling He gave me. And here’s summary of what I told my Father.

Thank you for making me Bailey’s big sister. She taught me more in her short life span than anyone has. I’m sorry that I get caught up making excuses for myself, because I miss her. I know that she would not be proud of that. God, I’m thankful that you allowed me to be her best friend. There are many people in this world more deserving of that role, but I’m glad you let it be me. Thank you for sharing her laugh with me, and her smile. Thank you for letting me be her shoulder, when she’d had a rough day at school. Thank you for letting me be her cheer leader and letting me remind her that no boy will ever be good enough for her. Thank you for giving me absolutely no ability with musical instruments, so I could always be in awe of her when she played. Thank you for giving her long legs, so I can wear her sweat pants when I miss her. Thank you for sending your Son to die for us, so that she has the opportunity to live with you now. And thank you for giving ME the hope of Heaven so I may someday see her again. Help me to have a positive outlook on a future without her, and help me have the knowledge to understand that she is always with me as long as I walk with You.
Thank you for making me Drew’s big sister. His tender disposition and sweet heart remind me of Bailey every day. But thank you for the things that make Drew unique also. Thank you for making him much smarter than me, so that I may learn from him. Thank you for making him so thoughtful, because he is often the most understanding person I know. Thank you for making him strong, so that we can relate. Thank you for making us so different, so that we always find each other amusing. Thank you for letting me drive him places safely, because our car talks are always the best. Thank you for keeping him healthy, so I could always enjoy him. And thank you for giving him Bailey, he definitely deserved a big sister like her. Please continue to keep him safe, and continue to give me guidance and show me the ways I can be the best sister to him.
And thank you for making me Carter’s big sister. His goofy grin and energetic humor makes me smile constantly. Thank you for making him so much like me, because it is so fun to watch him grow. Thank you for making him funny, so he is always able to cheer us up. Thank you for making him resilient, so that he may live a life free of sorrow. Thank you for letting me watch him as a teenager, it made our bond even stronger. Thank you for giving me a voice, because we love to have loud sing alongs in the car. Thank you for letting me know You, I love telling Him all about You and Your promises. And thank you for also giving Him Bailey. I don’t know a child more deserving of her love. Help me to carry on that love and please continue to keep him healthy, happy, and safe.

I know there is nothing I could have done to deserve the honor of being the eldest Robinson. I try to remind myself and thank God every day for that blessing. Sometimes in the midst of a busy world, I get caught up with what I feel like is missing and instead of recognizing what I have, I cant seem to see past the giant void I feel. But today, on National Sibling Day I am going to be thankful. Thankful for the time I got with my sweet sister, and thankful for the time I get to continue having with my precious brothers. It is the greatest gift I have ever received.  

IMPACT- Day Two.

I woke up on day two nervous, anxious, and nauseous, but ready to meet those children. We woke up each morning around six to load a bus by seven for the hour and a half commute from Galveston to Houston. When we arrived, I couldn’t get off that bus quick enough. I charged into the building towards the class room to have absolutely everything perfectly prepared for those sweet kids when they came in. And once set up was finished, the most agonizing portion began, waiting. I could not shake the pit in the bottom of my stomach. I was about to meet Gilberto. The child my sister had claimed changed her life. This child that I had imagined finding since she had passed. He was about to be here, in this room, and I had no idea how to approach him. I had played out every possible scenario in my head and I knew I had to lower my expectations. What if he didn’t like me?? That was possible. He didn’t know nor understand how important meeting him was to me. He held no obligation for my feelings. He was a regular kid coming for VBS, completely unaware of how special he was to me. The interns informed us it was tradition for them to create a spirit line up the hall that they would enter when they exited the buses. I stood there scanning the children, faking screams as they entered, zoned into finding Gilberto. And then he came in. It was no big moment to him. Or anyone else really. But there he was. His big honest brown eyes widened at the amount of people, his sheepish grin spread out across his face, and he hung his head in embarrassment as he walked through the line. I had found him. And I followed him. He grabbed his name tag from the leaders and walked into the next hall. He was clearly reserved. Many of his friends had begun to cut up and he remained in line, smiling after them. The interns would say something to him and he would just respond with a grin. He had very little to say, he was just thankful to be there. He turned the next corner towards the main meeting area and I walked right up to him. “Gilberto isn’t it?? I’m Elise!! I’m one of your teachers this week. I’m in green group with you!” I beamed at the child, excitement seeping from my pores and Gilberto stared. There was not even a smile. In fact, he looked frightened and instead of grabbing my hand and joining me as I had hoped, he purposefully walked around me and walked into the large room alone. I could have cried. I had imagined that moment so differently. Here I was hoping to have a huge reunion with this child, and he thought I was a freak. I stood up and collected myself, and determined I walked into the meeting room, found him, and planted myself beside him, refusing to move even when he looked up at me with slight disgust. He had no interest in me whatsoever. And as fun sing ensued and I tried even harder, grabbing his hands and dancing and smiling, but he only became even more annoyed and continued to pull his hands away and turn his face. I was crushed. Didn’t he understand that I had come here for him?? I needed him to like me, I needed him to care for me as he had my sister. And as Fun Sing came to a close he walked swiftly away from me into his reading room only looking back to make sure there was a good distance in between us. Feeling hopeless, I leaned up against the wall and prayed. I prayed that God show me what this child needed from me. I prayed that God give me some insight to what I was supposed to do. I had done everything I could think of!! I had smiled, been inviting, danced, sang, been energetic… And as I am going through all the things I had done it became more and more clear to me what I had done wrong. I had watched Gilberto in the hall, and he was a Bailey. He was quiet and gentle and sweet. And I had come at him intense and aggressive and he was not conditioned for that. For this kid to respond to me as he did Bailey, I had to be LIKE Bailey. And that blew my mind. I had never been intimidated by mission work because I do well with people. I love people. And I love to make them feel warm and welcome. I love to laugh and dance and make children feel excited to be there. But the problem with all of those things is that it began with what I, ELISE, loved. And this wasn’t about ME. Ultimately, it was about HIM. And I needed to change myself to fit Gilberto’s needs. He didn’t need energy, he needed gentle. He didn’t need excitement, he needed understanding. So in that moment I raced through memories of Bay and tried to document her mannerisms so that I could be as much like her as possible for this child. “Please God, let this work. Show me how it’s done Bay.” I clutched my necklace, and walked boldly towards the door, spotted him through the window, and stepped in quietly, sitting down next to him without saying a word. He looked at me carefully, shifting his only his eyes, but I looked ahead, pretending not to notice him and listening intently to the reading coaches instructions. She passed out books and I volunteered to read the books aloud to the class. I love reading to children. I read loudly with animation, changing my voices for each of the characters. But I glanced at Gilberto only twice, and spent most of the time focused on the book and the rest of the class. After I had finished reading, we were told to allow our little buddies to read to us, and to help them along if they had any issues. And everyone turned to their kids to start working. I looked down and Gilberto and asked, “Can you read?” I adjusted my voice to be quieter and soft, the way I remember Bay’s being. He looked up, and said nothing, but did respond with a slight grin. I handed him the book, and crossed my arms, waiting to see how he would react. And as I expected he opened the book and began to read. And he was brilliant. He sped through the book with ease, without a stutter or pause, and finished his work sheets the same. And we slowly began to click. Bailey had a way of making you feel comfortable in any setting. You didn’t have to be talking to spend time with Bailey. You could just sit and enjoy each other’s presence without having to force chatter. And that’s what we did. He rested his arm on my leg as he did his work sheets, and he was content. He didn’t need me to continue talking, he was happy I was there, and he had work to do. After he had finished his work we leaned up against the wall and I asked him a few questions. He would respond, but with quick and concise answers. At one point he asked me why I talked so much so I sealed my lips and responded with a grin. He went back to his book, flipping through the pages silently, but I watched him smiling and I knew I was doing better. After reading time we went into the main assembly for the Bible story and prayer before lunch. I sat down and Gilberto plopped in my lap and I couldn’t help but beam. We had all been anticipating asking Gilberto about Bailey. Whether he remembered her and what if anything he could tell us about her. Mollie looked at me and mouthed, “Have you asked him yet?” I shook my head and she nodded. I wanted to wait for the right moment to ask him. I had seen how overwhelmed he could get and I wanted him to be focused and comfortable when I asked him a question I had been holding for six months. We sat and listened to the Bible story and then went into our classroom for lunch and for more Bible time. At this time I was able to meet more of the children in my group and spend more time with Gilberto. We had them do prayer journals and the children blew us away with their selfless responses. Gilberto told me he wanted to pray for his little sister because she was sad. I asked him why she was sad and he said because she didn’t like to be away from him and she was in the kindergarten class. He wrote, “I want to pray for Jamina so she won’t be sad and she will love VBS like me.” I was in love. I also fell in love with an energetic, rough little boy name Ricardo that latched onto me pretty quickly.  He sat in my lap and kissed my face after knowing me for fifteen minutes and pulled at my hair when he wanted my attention. And by the end of class, I was wishing it could go on forever. At the end of the day they go back to assembly for what they call “Ticket Time” in which they celebrate good behavior during the day by presenting prizes to those that had received tickets throughout the day. Because of Gilberto’s timidity towards the yelling and dancing, I allowed him to shrink back and spent my time jumping around with Ricardo yelling back to Gilberto only twice and watching him smile in return. As they announced his bus route he ran over without a word and hugged my waist, and ran for the bus. I stood outside and waved until the bus was out of sight. Then I loaded my own bus, fell into a seat in exhaustion, and road the whole way back smiling with contentment, confident that Bailey was proud of the work I had done.