Thanks for joining me for my weekly flashback. Today, I dove deep into my photo box and pulled out a bit of history. If you want to read why I’m sincerely offering this ‘fro me to you, and just how sincere blah blah blah I am, click here.
I am a twin.
My sister was born five minutes after me. I am older. As a twin, this is important.
Growing up twins made my sister and I a little more unique than the average singleton. We shared a birthday, a room, clothes and sometimes we were nice to each other.
Sometimes. Notice I did not choose often. Stay with me.
I think the best thing about being a twin was always having someone with me, especially in difficult situations.
The worst thing? Those difficult situations: We could be scratching each other’s eye balls out in the privacy of our closet one minute and holding hands like the greatest allies, when we were caught by our parents in the closet scratching each other’s eyeballs out.
Oh, yes, we hid our wounds and quickly became best friends again. Unity is born in the midst of anger from the parental units.
We are not identical. Actually, we’ve always had our own look. She has green eyes. Mine are brown. As children, she was fair, I was olive.
And, not only was I the older twin, I was the bigger twin.
My parents always referred to me as the big twin, you know, to differentiate between us. I guess because saying, “the brown-haired one or the blonde one” would be confusing.
I have always been bigger than my sister, at least several inches taller. I was born at 5 lbs. She was only 3 lbs. and so, I guess it was natural from the beginning to label us by size. I grew up with the label.
It was like a trait. “Oh yes, she has wavy, thick hair. And she has straight, fine hair. Yes, she is tiny, isn’t she? Oh, and that one? She’s the big twin.”
During high school, we quickly migrated to our own interests. I loved sports, drama and journalism and my sister loved all things music. We found autonomy and it was good.
I will never forget the day I referred to myself as the big twin. I was in college. (Yes, I know it is sad that I still characterized myself this way.) Someone mentioned that I was petite.
I argued and others joined in, pointing their fingers and proclaiming me petite.
Well, never in all my 20 years had anyone ever used that word to describe big, ol’ me.
It was such a revelation, once I returned to my dorm room I called my Mom.
“Mom, did you know I was petite?”
“Of course, honey, you’re 5’2″.”
“But, I’m the big twin!”
Well. After my mom stopped laughing, she went on to explain that compared to my sister who was just under 5 foot, I was big, bigger, oh, um, tall, yes, taller.
And that’s when it dawned on me that I wasn’t that big after all.
Of course, I’m still the older twin. And that’s pretty important.
Food for the Soul:
“It is written: ” ‘As surely as I live,’ says the Lord, ‘every knee will bow before me; every tongue will confess to God.”- Romans 14:11
HI! I'm Kristen. I'm here to encourage you as a wife and mom and remind you there's a little bit of THAT family in all of us. I write books, run Mercy House and try to remember I am third (God first, others second). I'm glad you're here.