Anyways, I thought today I would continue where I left off last time: to love another person is to see the face of God.
My sister Sarah and I have a kind of origin story. You know, like if they were to make a movie about how great of friends we are, they'd have to go back and show the origin story of how we came to love each other. I mean, of course we've always loved each other--we're sisters. And I love my other two sisters just as much. I'll for sure talk about them on this blog at some point. But today I want to talk about me and Sarah for a bit.
She's probably really tired of me bringing this up, but it really was a big learning moment for me.
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| This is us. :) |
One day late in July, I was just finishing dinner and trying to decide which movie I was going to watch that night. I was exhausted and looking forward to having the house to myself, because my grandparents were going downtown with all the aunts, uncles, and cousins to some production (I can't remember what it was). I could have gone with them, but it was going to keep them out very late, and I had another hard day of work in the morning, so I stayed behind.
But just as I was beginning to relax, my cell phone rang.
It was Sarah. "Carly," she said. "I have the flu, and everyone else is going to leave me."
I felt my stomach drop. Sarah was also living in Salt Lake that month, babysitting my cousins on a daily basis. She and I hadn't talked much even though we were living only a few streets away, because at the time our relationship was very strained. All during my high school years we had a difficult time getting along. Sometimes we were outright cruel. We were always finding reasons to despise each other, and when we ran out of ammo we would bring up past arguments or transgressions and start the whole thing over again. It seemed that we would never learn to get along.
So having her call me wasn't exactly something I looked forward to. And worse, I knew exactly what kind of flu she meant. Some of our cousins had come to town on vacation, and they had brought with them a very nasty flu. It was highly contagious and had gone the rounds with all the aunts, uncles, and cousins. I'd thought it was dying down, and I'd successfully managed to avoid it.
Now here was Sarah, who I didn't get along with, telling me that she had the flu that I really didn't want to catch.
She was old enough to stay home alone and take care of herself, and so the family members she was staying with decided to go on to the downtown thing and leave her alone to rest. She'd put on a brave face for them and told them she'd be fine, but now she was calling me, and she sounded awful. Her voice was filled with homesickness and misery and loneliness, above all.
For a second, habit almost made me just make an excuse and leave her to her own devices. What possible reason could I have for risking catching the flu and helping this little sister who had only filled my high school years with contention?
But that selfish notion only lasted a split second. When I heard the sadness in my baby sister's voice, something hit me like a slap across the face. I thought of how scared and lonely I would be in her situation. I thought of how many times in my life I'd loved her so much I could kill to defend her. In that instant, my heart was opened, and it filled up with an overwhelming love and longing to help Sarah. All of our differences, all of our past arguments, just vanished as the Spirit prompted me to "comfort those who stand in need of comfort." Sarah may have hurt me in the past, but she was still my little sister, and I loved her, and she needed me.
She didn't have to say another word. She didn't even have to properly ask me to come over. She just said, "Carly, I have the flu, and everyone else is going to leave me."
I said, "Hang on, it's okay, I'll be right there."
I dropped everything, grabbed my car keys, and rushed to my aunt's house.
I found Sarah looking absolutely miserable--pale, feverish, and close to tears. She wasn't in much state to talk, and I was out of practice chatting with her anyways, so I quietly went to work making her comfortable on the basement couch. I dug through my aunt's pantry and found some Sprite to settle her stomach, and then I put in a movie for her to watch to take her mind off of her agony.
We chose "Johnny Lingo." The newer one. Don't ask me why.
It was a pretty ridiculous movie for a nineteen- and fifteen-year-old to watch, but now I have an extreme fondness for it, because it's what we watched that night.
For most of the movie, she was alternating between vomiting and crying. Even though I was terrified of catching the sickness myself, I sat there on the couch next to her and tended to her as best as I knew how. I could see that she found some comfort in my being there. Just me sitting on the couch with her instead of treating her like a leper, when the rest of the world had abandoned her, seemed to put her more at ease.
As the night wore on, her vomiting lessened and the movie ended, and I talked with her to cheer her up. I found myself speaking to her more openly and kindly than I had in years. She opened up, too, when she started feeling better, and we were both a bit surprised to find that we actually had a lot in common. I hadn't felt any animosity toward her all night. From an outside perspective, she was being a baby and making me give up my night and my good health to babysit her. But I never thought of it that way. I just wanted to take care of her--good night's sleep and flulessness be darned!
Getting along suddenly didn't seem so hard after all, and soon we were actually enjoying being together. I stayed there at my aunt's house for most of the night. We just talked and swapped stories and laughed and had a good night until Sarah's flu-ridden body finally wore out and she fell asleep. Even then, I stayed with her until the rest of the family came back.
I didn't rest well at all that night, and I was extremely tired at work the next day. But I didn't care.
And then, sure enough, two days later I woke up and promptly lost my breakfast, lunch, and dinner from the day before. It was quite possibly the worst flu I've ever had, but it was worth it to me. In fact, it ended up being Sarah's and my little secret, because the rest of the family wanted to go to the cabin that day and they probably would have made a big deal about it if they knew I had the flu. So I just pretended like I was still going to go to work and thus couldn't go (when in reality I'd called my boss at 5:30am to find a replacement). It took all my willpower not to hurl during the family prayer before they left, but then they were gone. Sarah was the only one who I'd told, and she and I stole glances at each other during the prayer when they blessed me to have a good day at work. We're such sneakers.
The flu only lasted 24 hours, and no one was the wiser. But Sarah's and my friendship has lasted a lot longer than that, and I'm sure our parents at least have noticed the difference.
We still have our differences and our occasional spats, but now that we've seen into each others' hearts and come to understand each other better, our fights never last long.
I still count that night with Sarah as one of the best experiences of my life, flu bug and all. In one night I had learned to let go of grudges. I'd discovered that happiness comes from selflessly serving a sister in need.
I pray that I may never let a potentially-wonderful friendship be blocked by grudges ever again. Sarah and I might have been friends a lot sooner had we just let go and served each other. Ours is a friendship I may never have discovered had I not given us a second chance by opening my heart and letting a bad situation turn into an origin story.
Wow, this is already really long. But sorry, I'm not done.
At the last General Conference, October 2013, President Eyring opened his talk, "Bind Up Their Wounds" with this sentence: "All of us are blessed with responsibility for others." The rest of the talk definitely connected with me (our origin story was on my mind the whole time), but that first line has stayed with me especially.
We are blessed with responsibility for others. Not burdened. Not obligated. Blessed.
I've definitely seen that that's true, and I hope you all at some point have felt the same way.
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