Dear lil' sis of mine

Nikki is about 22 months younger than myself. Since I don’t remember the first 22 months of my life, she’s been around as long as I can remember. When we were little, we lived in The Little Red House and she went by Coley-Bear. She went through a ‘Nicole’ phase at some point when she decided she hated the nickname Coley-Bear. Now we call her Nikki. We’ll see how long that one lasts….j/k hun!

I think when we were really young we got along reasonably well. But for most of our childhood, we couldn’t stop getting on each other’s nerves. I remember when she teased me for needing medicine I hated. There’s a home video of me coming home on the bus after my very first day of kindergarten where she tries to hold my hand ‘cause she’s so excited that I’m home and I don’t let her – I pull my hand away. I remember once when a chandelier got broken by a chair during one of our fights. And I remember considering hiding all the knives once when I was babysitting – just in case.

Despite the fighting, we loved each other (“but we love each other, Mom!”). Once, Nikki got a not-perfect grade on her report card. When dad found out, he wasn’t so thrilled. In fact, Nikki was in pretty hot water. I remember feeling so bad for her. I never once thought that she was less for that grade. I got mad at my parents though and emphatically told them that they couldn’t expect Nikki to be the same as I was – I was convinced that they were measuring her against me and that it just wasn’t fair. Another time, my principal called me into his office to…I guess testify against Nikki for something and when he asked if he should punish her I got upset and told him 'no' to which he was very surprised.

Looking back it didn’t matter how much I fought with Nikki – I loved her more than she annoyed me. And no one else was allowed to do anything to her if I had anything to say about it. As the years have passed, I’ve learned not to be annoyed by her. I don’t think she’s perfect, but she’s certainly a sweet spirit and I miss her much of the time. We’ve learned to be friends as well as sisters, and that’s a friendship we both treasure. Nikki’s going to have a minor surgery soon – the first time she’s ever seriously hurt herself (aside from that time she stepped in a bee’s nest, though that was more emotionally traumatizing than physically). In light of this scary event that she’s going through away from home and family, I dedicate this post to her and want her to know that I love her and wouldn’t be who I am without her. See you soon Nikki. Love, Sara.

Invictus

There's this poem by William Ernest Henley (later entitled 'Invictus' meaning unconquered) that you may have heard of. Henley wrote it from a hospital bed in 1875 after having one leg amputated from the knee down due to tuberculosis. It goes a little something like this:


Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.



I like this poem. As Daniel K. Judd stated, "Henley's poem rings with a certain strength." However, there's another poem I'd like to share alongside Invictus. This one was written by Orson F. Whitney of the Quorum of the Twelve in 1926 as a response to Invictus.



Art thou in truth?
Then what of him
Who bought thee with his blood?
Who plunged into devouring seas
And snatched thee from the flood?

Who bore for all our fallen race
What none but him could bear. -
The God who died that man might live,
And endless glory share.

Of what avail thy vaunted strength,
Apart from his vast might?
Pray that his Light may pierce the gloom,
That thou mayest see aright.

Men are as bubbles on the wave,
As leaves upon the tree.
Thou, captain of the soul, forsooth!
Who gave that place to thee?

Free will is thine - free agency,
To wield for right or wrong;
But thou must answer unto him
To whom all souls belong.

Bend to the dust that head "unbowed,"
Small part of Life's great whole
And see in him, and him alone,
The Captain of thy soul.



For all the strength that the former rings with, I think it's utterly eclipsed by the truth in the rebuke of the latter.