kandas-adventures: Little Sister

It's tough to be the little sister. To constantly live in the shadow of an older sister who seems to do everything better than you.

In dance class she remembers the steps and does them gracefully, while you trip over your feet. Somehow through a twist of fate (or the evils of the genetic dice throw) she got the dancer's body: lean and straight. No matter how tall you stand, you still have a little pot belly, and your shoulders are rounded down. It's just the way God made you, but you wouldn't have noticed had people not kept pointing out how perfect your sister is.

Big sister has has thick, red hair that everyone loves. No matter where we go, EVERYONE always seems to comment on it. The grocery clerk, the bus driver, the other moms at the park, the old lady in the bank... When you were younger you used to pipe up, "But I have pretty hair, too!" But now you just turn away, or pretend not to hear.

Mommy has told you time and time again that you are special in your own way. That your strengths are within, and that when people get to know who you are, they can't help but love you.

This year, of your own accord, you befriended a little boy at school who is partially blind and severely developmentally delayed. You saw him sitting on the playground with a ball, day after day, his only company a teacher's aide. One day you sat down beside him. You became his very first friend.

Soon the calls started coming. His mother called me. His teachers called me. One of his therapists wanted you to join his sessions so he could practice socializing -- something he'd had no interest in until you came along. Your friendship had sparked something in him. You had a way of speaking to him, being with him, and inspiring him to try new things. When he had a loud outburst, instead of running away, you remained at his side and seemed to know just how to comfort him.

In time you encouraged other kids to join the two of you in passing the ball back and forth at recess. When he got overwhelmed or confused, you ran a hand through his hair and spoke softly to him, reassuring him that it was "OK."

Word continued to spread about your compassion and innate ability to understand and befriend the special needs kids. It wasn't just this little boy anymore. Now you'd reached out to some of the other kids who struggled socially, or had physical limitations that kept them on the sidelines.

So, Little K, do you see how beautiful you are? How much joy you bring? Your gifts of friendship and concern for others are much more important than hair color, dancing ability, or any other physical attributes. I hope you will come to believe this deep within your soul.

I'm sorry that the years ahead will not be easy. The teen years are always filled with self-loathing, and having a competitive older sister will only make things worse for you. I hope I can be there to cheer you on, and that you will listen to me and believe me when I remind you how wonderful you are.