Monday, June 14, 2010

Houston's Lament

My sister teaches my oldest two kids piano lessons ... and she is so great at helping them learn how to feel the music ... to put their heart and soul into it.  A couple of weeks ago during Kristen's lesson, Jill titled one of her sad pieces ... Houston's Lament ... to help her connect with the emotion of the piece.  It is a fitting name ... though I'm not sure that Chopin would agree.

So far this blog has primarily been about our adoption ... but today ... I think it will delve into another part of my life right now.  You see, my sister, my best friend ... one of the only people who really knows and gets me ... is moving ... to Houston.  She leaves on Saturday morning.  We've known that she and her family are moving for several months now ... and I have successfully put off really "going there" ... going to the place of emotion that allows me to fully express how great this loss is.  I told my family at one point, I'm afraid if I start crying that I might never stop.

Jill and I have always been friends.  I'm sure there was some occassional bickering when we were growing up, but nothing serious.  However, our relationship took on a new depth and intensity about 12 years ago ... when as adults we walked through some very deep, dark waters together.  We lived apart from each other during that time.  Our phones were our lifelines ... and this was before cell phones were so common.  We cried, laughed, screamed and encouraged each other ... and we knit our hearts together in an unbreakable way.

When she and her family moved here almost exactly 5 years ago ... it was a dream come true for both of us.  We had never imagined that we would actually get to live near each other.  They moved to the same small suburb on the other side of town, and with the red lights, it took about 10-12 minutes to get to each other's houses.  We were in such awe of this blessing ... to pop into each other's homes, see each other on the road, bump into each other at a store ... after a few weeks, we started saying, "I'm still not tired of it" whenever we'd leave each other.

It is so ironic that we have each made a decision to change our lives in fundamental ways at the same time.  Her family's life will change by their move, and ours will change by adding a son.  We did not have to do either of these things.  We could have kept moving along the same path ... but we know that we are following where we are being led, and move forward with the hope that the changes that are coming will bring blessings in the long run.

I could fill pages with memories and things that I have loved about having her near, milestones, holidays, celebrations that we have shared ... but I am left with just a few that matter.  First, she has made me a better mom ... I have learned to let go of doing things out of obligation, and instead choose to willingly do things ... even if sometimes I would rather not or they are inconvenient.  I am more calm and relaxed and better at expressing what I'm thinking and feeling.  She has connected with my kids in a way that is unique.  They are able to be silly, express their feelings and laugh with her and her kids in ways that have only made them more delightful and well rounded human beings.  And finally, our lives and the lives of our children are intertwined forever in a way that I could not have imagined 5 years ago.  We are better, stronger, and closer.  Moving away will change the daily routine of our lives ... but never who we have become to each other.

I'm still not tired of it ....

1 comment:

  1. Love. And tears.

    I think it's harder for the people left behind, because they have constant reminders right in front of them, while everything is "new" for the one who has moved.

    Praying for you Amy.