The Fight From Our Youth: From My Perspective

Of course, the words that will follow are from the older sister perspective, but I think they are pretty accurate:

Relaxing

Sitting in the apricot-colored chair, I relaxed watching some rerun after school, probably The Brady Bunch. I calmly sat, eating my normal after-school snack of two fried eggs and two pieces of buttered toast smothered with Nana’s applesauce . 

Julie, my younger sister (by two and a half years) came be-bobbing in the room holding her basketball. She asked me to come play. Having a satisfied belly, I shrugged feeling a bit lazy. She repeated her request, but I refused stating that I was busy watching TV. As if I had not see that episode 15 times.

Interruption

I am assuming she was not happy that I refused to play with her. The hard ball smash into the rim of my glasses which jarred my nose. Anyone with glasses knows that incredible pain associated with a blow of that type. To Julie’s nine-year-old credit, I do not think she meant to hit me in the face. However, I am not sure where she thought the ball was going to hit me.

I lunged at her out of shock and sheer pain from the flying orange sphere. Taking a swing, I hit her in the arm and tried to bolt out the door before she could come back after me. I was not swift enough! She grabbed the back of my shirt. Her hand unintentionally had ahold of my add-a-bead necklace! If you lived in the 80’s, you remember the pride you felt sporting this fashionable piece of jewelry. The twisting of her hand unleashed the golden balls, and they shot in all directions.

Here Comes Mom

I was so proud of the 14 karat golden balls I have collected over time. It must have had 20 beads, and went sailing into the hallway in 20 different direction! The pinging sound, bouncing off the walls, signaled a warning to Mom, and she came running. And that was the end of the one and only fight we ever had.  

Praise the Lord, we got off with only a scolding. Though, I am sure the guilt of our actions (and the mourning of the loss of my necklace) caused us some serious shame when Mom got through with us.  

Julie’s Fight

Last week was spring break for me, and I had the privilege of taking Julie to physical therapy.

Seven and a half years ago, Julie was hit head on by a truck doing 84 in a 35! She had a knee replacement on March 21st, which was her 16th surgery, tolerating more than one person should have to endure.

Amazed By Her Attitude

Distracted from the book I brought to read, she started the repetitive exercises. The therapist set the stationary bike to allow her to only pedal back and forth, not complete circles. She moved from one machine to another, smiling and even making little jokes now and then. I began reading off and on trying to let her concentrate on her progress and not on me watching her.

Sickened by Her Pain

However, when she sat on the bench and began lifting her leg with a very minimal weight, I happened to look up. I watched her in intense pain as she pierced her lips together. She balled up her fist and hit her forehead several times fighting through the pain until the timer rang to signal her release from the agony.

I thought of our fight that was almost 40 years ago when I considered her to be one of my biggest annoyances in life. As I have watched Julie fight through the continuous pain of the last seven and a half years, I stand in awe of the amazing woman and true fighter she is.  

She is a survivor and a thriver.

To God be the Glory.