I grew up in a family of three sisters and five brothers. Those same five brothers provided me with five more sisters. Add one strong Momma and a fierce grandmother - well - there were always lots of women around. Lots of opinions. Lots of drama. Lots of tears. Lots of laughter. Lots of stories. Lots of support. Lots of wisdom. Lots of grace.

When Randy and I decided to get married I knew I wouldn’t likely live in the same community all my life. We prepared for local church ministry at Tyndale Bible College and Seminary in Toronto - both of us graduating in 1980 - Randy with a Bachelor of Theology degree and me - with a Bachelor of Christian Education degree. We would pastor 4 churches over the next 35 years in Orillia, Listowel, Cambridge and Alliston before Randy went Home to be with the Lord in 2014. In all four of those places, God provided me with “sistas - from another mother” to surround and support me - to share life with - to talk for hours about nothing and everything - when my own sisters lived away from me. While my sisters were only a phone call away, sometimes you need a warm body sitting across a table from you. If any of you are reading this blog this morning - you know who you are.

Just about a month ago - June 24th - I woke up with a heaviness and sadness and it didn’t take long for the tears to start. The last week of June saw my three oldest grandchildren graduate from grade 8. (I know it’s only grade 8 but it’s a big deal these days.) It was an exciting week for my three sons and their families. I had hoped that the three graduations would be on three consecutive days so I could easily get to all three events. Wasn’t to be. Two would be on the 24th - Ottawa in the morning and Kincardine in the evening - the 25th in Kitchener. I would miss Sara’s grad in Ottawa.

Early that Tuesday morning, Ben and Jen, sent me pictures of Sara - pretty in her sweet white dress - hair curled - confident smile on her face. My heart was more than a little bit broken that I wasn’t there to witness her graduation for myself. (I know Randy and I would have divided and conquered that day - one of us at Sara’s and one of us at Levi’s). To take my mind off things, I drove to Port Elgin to play pickle ball and as I was putting on my court shoes - a new friend came over to say good morning to me. The tears started and my new friend reached out to hug me and listen to my story. She was thoughtful and empathetic and offered emotional support. She sat with me until I composed myself. What a tremendous blessing she was to me that day.

Women need women. That morning I didn’t need common sense. I didn’t need logic. I didn’t need reason. I didn’t need rational thinking. I needed a kind, warm, thoughtful friend - to share my heartache.

Every Wednesday afternoon, at 4:30 - my three sisters and I have a messenger video chat. It’s in the calendar and not too many things get in the way of these conversations. It’s not like we don’t chat other times but Wednesday at 4:30 is sacred. My sisters are 85, 79 and 78. I’m the baby of the group. My oldest sister, Marilyn, is a widow - lives alone in the house that she and my brother-in-law bought at least 55 years ago - takes care of her yard - visits friends who are shut in - and has a large network of women friends - many of them widows themselves. The next oldest sister has a husband and a large family that stop in to visit her regularly. Sue - is always baking and cooking up a storm for the kids and grandkids and greats that come for a coffee or meal. She sews and knits beautiful creations for the young moms in her church, community and family. My third sister, Brenda, also has a husband and family who live nearby. She spends a good deal of her time at the local hospital, serving the families waiting outside of the ICU - calming frayed nerves and sad hearts. She blesses her friends with words of encouragement and grace. These sisters of mine always - always - always - have led by example. They love me (and each other) unconditionally. We’ve walked through the death of two spouses, two brothers and two parents. We’ve supported each other in a miscarriage and death of a newborn infant. We’ve cried with and for each other when disappointment comes into our lives. We’ve laughed until we’ve wet our pants. We’ve talked late into the night and on those nights, we’ve eaten far too many ju-jubes and liquorice. We are warriors for each other. We share our deepest secrets and desires. We need each other. I can’t imagine doing life without these three women.

This picture was taken several years ago. We were having a sister’s weekend together and we went to visit our mom. She didn’t want her picture taken so we hid her behind some flowers.

“Some women pray for their daughters to marry good husbands! Instead - pray for your daughters to find girlfriends who are loyal and true .” (Rebecca Wells) I didn’t have a daughter of my own but I think I would have prayed for both!!!

To the women of my youth - my young adulthood - my middle life - and now - in my “older” years - I say thank you. You’ve seen my truest self - both broken and beautiful. You never flinched. Instead you’ve love me through it all. That’s the love I will treasure for a lifetime.

F. Scott Fitzgerald said it this way - “She was beautiful - but not like the women in the magazines. She was beautiful for the way she thought. She was beautiful for the sparkle in her eyes when she talked about something she loved! She was beautiful for her ability to make other people smile, even if she was sad. No - she wasn’t beautiful for something as temporary as her looks. She was beautiful - deep down in her soul. She is beautiful.”

Sistas! We need each other.