Growling a word from the language of the orcs, I threw a pillow and rolled in the opposite direction, not even making an attempt to listen to the words coming out of her mouth.
I'm not really a morning person if I haven't slept much the night before, and if you try to get me up during a time such as Christmas break, a time clearly designated for sleep and endless cups of hot chocolate, then I will likely ignore you.
Or throw something in your direction and growl, apparently.
'Pleeease? Pleeease?? Pleeease, please, please, please, please you said that would!'
Right. I had promised to get myself out of bed (after staying up way too late watching Netflix) to do my sister's hair and makeup for her first day of school of her second semester of sixth grade.
Slightly more alert, I found myself at one of those forks in the road that we all find ourselves upon at one time in our lives or another. To go one path would be the road of sleep, the pathway of easiness and convenience, the trail in which commitments are allowed to slide and little sisters are pushed aside for another day, another morning in which it would be easier for me to wake up.
Then there was the other way, the one that was less traveled, the one in which commitments are kept-even the small ones.
I squinted my eyes open and flopped my head around so I could see the person that was now sitting on top of me, refusing to take no for an answer, even though I knew that given long enough she would give up and walk away.
Pondering my two options, I looked at the kid who wasn't quite a kid anymore, now bouncing up and down trying to pull her lazy big sister out bed, and I almost pushed her off, closed my eyes, rolled back over, and went back to sleep.
After all, it wasn't as if she didn't know how to fix her hair. It wasn't like we had slaughtered a calf and walked through the blood, sealing our commitment as a divine oath that couldn't be broken.
But we might as well have, because a commitment is a commitment, no matter how small.
Besides, what matters is the heart behind the words spoken, and I meant what I said and I said what I meant (...an elephant's faithful one hundred percent).
Squinting up at the mess of blonde curls above me, I internally asked the Spirit to help me see this moment, to see this precious daughter of His and sister of mine, through the eyes of Jesus.
Just like that, my vision was changed. Through the lens of a servant-hearted God, I saw the truth in the moment. Sure, she could fix her own hair, but that wasn't the point, was it? She was learning how to do her makeup and she could teach herself, but why should she have to?
All the sleep in the world wouldn't replace the precious opportunities of love, gifts in the form of moments shared between people, moments that are able to be grasped or rejected, pushed aside for another day.
Except that 'another day' might not even exist. The moment before me was now, ready to be grasped in it's own time, in God's time, and pushing it off to a time when it would be more convenient for me might be robbing both mine and someone else's life of a happening of love, a sweet moment in which Jesus can be learned about a little more.
We can't wait around to live out the kingdom. The time is today, and our lives are like mists.
Smiling, I pushed her off from atop me and rolled out of bed, following after her as she shrieked 'yay!' in a tone that was way too high-pitched considering the time of day.
It's never too early in the morning to choose to be the hands and feet, the eyes, ears, the very heart of Jesus.
So I followed her into the bathroom, waking up a bit more with each passing moment, realizing with each second passing that I would've regretted choosing the other path, the one that yes, contained my warm, soft, cozy bed but the one that also contained an event of love lost, time spent with my sister.
Who, I realized, is not a five-year-old little kid with strawberry blonde curls that bounce every time she giggles uncontrollably, which used to be all of the time.
Instead, she's an almost-teenager with golden blonde hair that falls in perfect ringlets, framing her face and spilling down over her shoulders, as if she was a real-life version of Rapunzel.
Her laugh is more intentional now, responding to cleverness rather than mere silliness or whatever it is that children laugh at. More intentional, yet still just as contagious. Her lighthearted personality has always drawn people in, and it will only continue to as she grows older I hope.
Her hair suits her, because deep down inside she's always had the gift of sunshine, the gift of contagious joy.
I braided it, because she loves braids, and I began to do her makeup, soaking in the moments of sisterhood, passing off secrets that only big sisters can share with little ones.
'The secret to wearing makeup is to look like you aren't wearing any'. Advice taken from Full House that I've found to be true over the years.
'This color matches your skin tone. This pallet will make your blue eyes pop. Wear this for when you ride horses, it won't run into your eyes if you sweat or feel too cake-y or anything. Don't hide behind your makeup, always make it look natural and don't ever feel like you have to wear it, because first of all, God's heart inside you makes you beautiful, and secondly you're already a freaking bombshell on the outside, and any guys that may be interested in you are gonna have to come talk to me and Lindsey first, cause you know, you're the baby'.
I stepped back from my masterpiece and nodded, pleased. I took it in, the realization that before me wasn't a little kid but rather a growing girl, still young and fragile but also living her way into life, learning in the process what it and she are made of. So grownup and yet so not at all, with so much still to learn but so much already behind her.
How could I have wanted to push this moment aside, simply to catch up on sleep?
Then, in one swift movement, she wrapped her little arms around me and held on tight, murmuring 'I love you'.
I hugged her back, responding with an 'I love you too', and off she went, ready to take on the adventures of middle school in her courageous way that she's always had inside of her. The most bold and fearless of her sisters, for sure. We've all got streaks of independence inside of us, and we always have, we were all born with them, but she was born with more than just streaks of it.
Sometimes God works in mind-blowing ways, perhaps in metaphysical ways, but other times He works in simpler methods, though His love is always in the unexpected for me, always wondrously precious and unexplainably valuable. It always rocks my world, knocks me off my feet, whether it is in a thunderous roar or a gentle whisper. Lately I've been seeing Him work in gentler ways, though still in just as extraordinary forms, for His love is extraordinary.
I sat there, in my sweatpants and glasses, my own face makeup-free and my hair falling out of my sideways messy bun, and thanked Jesus for giving me His Spirit, for helping me to choose love in a moment when my flesh so did not want to.
For still being strong inside of me at way too early in the morning.
For moving inside of me to live, to do more than exist.
For being love, when I never could, to people that need it.
For allowing me to not miss the fleeting life moments as they pass by.
My favorite picture of this kid from a few years back.
