just be a sister, silly.

⁴ Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant ⁵or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful;^{[b] 6}it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. ⁷ Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. - 1 Corinthians 13 (ESV)

We've all heard this verse dozens of times each. Even more if you're a forever-bridesmaid. It's a favorite verse among Southern sorority girls and giddy brides-to-be and has been seen in every Nicholas Sparks wedding scene from the last decade. Still, if you wipe away all of your preconceived notions and come to this passage with clear eyes and an open heart, there is so much to be gained.

I was reminded of this passage this week in conversation with a circle of women and it hit harder than it has ever hit before. Partly because this reading came surrounded with one of the most honest conversations that I've had with a group of strangers in a long, long while. We were talking about broken relationships between mothers and daughters and between sisters -- two delicate relationships that I've been really struggling with for the past couple of years.

I get lost sometimes in my own world and my own thoughts when living here in Los Angeles. I spend so much time being guarded in this town that I often forget that my walls aren't needed in every relationship. Not every stranger that I meet is trying to do me harm. Plus, I can't for a second disregard the fact that I practice selfishness far too often these days -- armed with the pretense that I'm just "looking out for me." I forget that people are living the same type of story as I am. That every new conversation that I come upon has the opportunity to connect me with someone who is living the same heartbreak or disappointment or joy or fulfillment as I am. Every connection is an opportunity to find someone who can help make sense of my own story.

And that kind of connection is exactly what I found in this particular conversation.

One of the women was offering advice that wasn't directed at me, but unintentionally rocked my world. She was saying that often times an older sibling can make the mistake of trying to be too many things for their younger sibling -- a confidant, a friend, a partner-in-crime, a provider, a protector, a mother. We do it with good intentions. Everyone is broken and as a good family member we want to unburden our sister or brother from the hurt and pain. But the more that you try to stretch your role as a sister to cover all of the holes and patches that are left behind, the more you start to leave new patches and new holes by your inability to be everything at one time. She offered that it's a sister's job to be just that -- a sister.

Love does not insist on its own way. Wait, what? *mind blown*

Coupled with the thought that love is both patient and kind -- two attributes that I'm not always the best at exemplifying -- I was faced with a challenge. To approach a new kind of conversation with my sister. One where I'm not trying to be the homework police and the jokester and the relationship guru all in one fail swoop. Instead, I want to be the listener with no hidden agenda. To just hear what my sister needs at this moment and find a way to love her and help provide for those needs in the purest way.

It seems like a small change, to live (and in this case, talk) intentionally. But it's a strong step and one that I'm finding is blessed all along the way. I had a conversation with my sister tonight that left us both feeling fulfilled and at peace, rather than one that left me worried and her anxious. And that's the kind of impact that I want to have on her every time we talk.

Feeling really full tonight and really at peace. I hope that you are too.

Love.love.love.
me