My sister is in Afghanistan.
I am still so shocked by that statement, I have to say it again. My sister, my beautiful, demure, gracious sister is in Afghanistan. (That’s her in the back left.) She is there with the company she works for, a company that does background clearances for people working in war zones. I guess we never realized her work would actually take her to a war zone.
I’m thinking so much about her today as I just finished a manuscript for Deseret Book on the unique power of female friendships. I have been blessed with the friendship of many wonderful women in my life, but the only lifelong friend I’ve had is my sister. She is the only friend who “knew me when” – knew me when I had naturally blonde hair, when I was in Catholic School and terrified of the nuns, knew me when I coveted her soft leather fringe purse and later her boyfriends.
We have been emailing back and forth while she is away. She tells me about the strangeness of the call to prayer, a sound she now thinks of as church bells. She tells me about the little boys in the market who want to escort her around,who have eyes “you could swim in.” She tells me about how important her church group is to her (the men pictured with her here.) And she still sends me quotes to inspire me.
Can you believe her? She’s such an extraordinary woman that even when she is on the other side of the world, away from her husband and children and grandchildren, she’s still thinking about inspiring me. She wants to know how my children are doing, how the book is coming, whether I’m happy.
I’m happy, Connie. Happy to have been born your sister. And will be happier when you are home safe and sound and holding my hand.