I have a Sister

I have a sister….
by her "big" sister, Sharon.

“Promise me something.” My sister’s voice from the bed almost made me jump. I thought she was asleep, and I was trying hard to stay awake. That Saturday had begun early when the hospital had called me out at 5am because Jenny wouldn’t settle unless I came. It was now about 7am and I was wondering if I could get back to bed for a bit myself.

It was 4 weeks since I had thrust my Dallas life aside to return to the UK. We had been told that Jenny was seriously ill and might not survive the night. Four weeks of rollercoaster emotions, clinging to every hopeful sign. Praying, pleading with God for my sister’s life.

I think there were only two of us who knew she would probably die – me and Jenny herself. Of course we never discussed it, but things Jenny said to me, like “If I have to go, it doesn’t mean that I didn’t love you,” had gripped my heart. Although I still clung to straws, I was the only person who knew how close to death Jenny had been a couple of years previously and what was wrong with her. I had also been living, since that first illness, with the memory of Jenny, at age 14 or so, coming to me and saying, “I don’t want to upset you, but I thought you ought to know that God has told me that I will only live until my early forties.” Did Jenny ever remember that during those last 6 weeks of her life? I don’t know, but I hope so because it has given to me a sense of security that God is in control. As the hymn says: “From life’s first cry till final breath, Jesus commands my destiny.”

The greatest gift God gave to the two of us was those last 6 weeks together. Jenny could have died on June 4th without me even having a chance to see her again. In fact, in a sense I believe she should have died that night, but God graciously gave her 6 more weeks to spend with her family. For that, I am more grateful than I can say.

During those 6 weeks, God permitted us to share so many things, not so much in words but in deeds. I found, in the power of the love I had for my sister, the ability to do things I would never have imagined doing – I even earned the privilege of being the only person who could scratch her feet right! We would share sticks of cheese, Twirls, “bursting beetles” (I never knew there were such things). Trivial things, but such precious memories.

More precious still was the joy of being able to pray together – mostly Jenny would grab my hands and command “Pray” but sometimes I would offer and sometimes Jenny herself would pray. It did not seem to me that Jenny was at all afraid to die – her renewed faith was strong – she just didn’t want to leave us and, in particular, the new husband that she had married in March and whom she longed to see come to Christ.

My gift to Jenny in those weeks was my love, the knowledge that she could depend on me for anything. If she wanted me there in the middle of the night, she knew I would come. Her gift to me was that for perhaps the first time in her life she not only needed, but wanted, her “big sister”. We had begun to draw close over the past 3 years, but in these last 6 weeks of Jen’s life we achieved the closeness that I had longed for all my life.

So what did Jenny want me to promise that Saturday morning? “Promise me that we will never lose this closeness we have developed over the last 4 weeks.” That request made me the happiest person alive. The memory brings tears to my eyes but a warmth to my heart.

Yet, in such closeness there is potential for pain as well as joy. Just two weeks after that morning, the Lord took Jenny home, and, because we had grown so close, she took part of me with her.

Someone wrote: “Sisters share the memories of the past, the joys of the present and the hopes for the future.” When Jenny died, those shared memories died too – and so, for the moment, have present joys and future hopes. But although my life changed forever on 18th July 2004, ultimately my joy and my future never lay in Jenny’s hands, but in the hands of her God and mine. He is the source of my joy, he holds my future in his hands even if my sister is no longer here to share it with me.

I have a tee-shirt that says “Cats leave footprints on your heart.” Well, just as Jenny took something of me with her, so she left her footprints on my heart. Yes, Jenny, I can still keep my promise – our closeness will never change because I will think of you every day for the rest of my life. You have not ceased to exist, you are just out of my reach for the moment. And one day, my beloved sister, we will be re-united, never to part again.

IN LOVING MEMORY OF JENNY OULTRAM (NEE GRAY)
Born 14 August 1960; With the Lord 18 July 2004