Nella/Heather

It must be the weather that has me up this late. I'm in one of my hyper, creative states where the night is young and I won't get tired until 4am or so. It's bothersome, but it gives me time to think and catch up on my favorite blogs and attempt to revamp my guest room. 

My favorite blog right now, no questions asked, is Kelle Hampton's Enjoying the Small Things. Ever since being linked to this blog through a facebook friend, I have been in heaven reading about precious Lainey and Nella. I am continually inspired by reading this amazing  story, and I think my heart grows each time I see Nella and her sweet bunny smile.  How can you not be head over heels in love with this baby? 

When someone told me they read the story and thought the situation was pitiful, I was offended.

Pitiful: 1. Inspiring or deserving pity.

2. Arousing contemptuous pity, as through ineptitude or inadequacy. See Synonyms at pathetic.

3. Archaic Filled with pity or compassion.

I come to this from a unique angle, I guess. As a sibling of someone with special needs, I have baggage that I, at times, can't even understand. I feel loss and regret and guilt, guilt for being normal, guilt for having hands and feet that function, and a voice and eyes that see. And a mind. And a life. And a future, but I have never found the situation pitiful because I love her. 

It is very hard for me to sit and watch my sister, Heather. It is heartbreaking. I would give anything to be able to have a conversation with my sister and to have an opportunity to know what's in that mind. I haven't always been the best at loving my sister. I've been scared, ashamed, angry, embarrassed. I've hated my parents. I've hated my sister. I've wanted her to die so I wouldn't have to think about her. Because thinking about her, especially in depth, really hurts. She's a mystery. I'll never be able to wrap my mind around her, and it drives me to the brink of insanity. But then I realize that the best things in life are vastly misunderstood, and I'm comforted by the fact that I can't and won't know everything. 

I have to confront my inner rage and anxiety every time I think about my sister. I have to admit that I'm not all together. In these moments, I am aware of my selfishness and bitterness and the fierce, protective love that resides deep within my heart. My sister. In some respects, my BABY sister. And when I think about it that way, it makes me want to get in my car, drive through these flood waters, wake up my parents, and rock her to sleep or something. Or sing lullabies. Or just love on her. 

I don't think I would have the courage to do that, but just the same. . . 

And when I see these pictures of sweet, sweet Nella, I cry because it reminds me of Heather. Just as Nella is special, so is Heather. 

There is beauty in this that needs to be claimed. It is not pitiful. It is remarkable. Praise Jesus.