It is hard for me when one of the sisters is aching and we all can't be there in person. I know the Spirit holds those who need Her, but sometimes it would be nice for the Spirit to have skin. One of the sisters hurts tonight.
For those of you who haven't followed this blog, or to explain the ways in which I haven't been as clear as I could have been...the sisters are my spiritual home. The sisterhood, the women who name me and teach me of my place in community, even though I am an ordained minister and love my denomination, provide me with the most honest and authentic space in which I feel God's presence and peace.
The sisterhood has morphed from a group of college friends who had fun drinking Boone's farm wine into a profoundly and deeply connected group of sisters. We wear rings, wedding bands for some, reiterating our ties to one another. We gather once a year for three or four days to reconnect and recommit ourselves.
I count the statistics of who we are: six weddings, two divorces, three children, three miscarriages, two struggles with infertilities of sorts, eight college degrees, five graduate school degrees, currently living in seven different states (two in California, one in Indiana, one in Michigan, one in Ohio, one in Maryland, one in Colorado, one in Kentucky).
These are my sisters and they are my home. And tonight I hate how many miles separate us.