My Mom and Dad only had two sons. I ended up
with a couple of sisters along the way.
One, was a friend of the family who became my big sister and the other, was a member of
the family and she became my little sister.
My little sister in reality was my first cousin. But she became more like a little
sister to me than a cousin. My Aunt Helen and Uncle Lloyd only had the one child.
She had been sickly when she was little. She never has been hard to love.
So I had a little sister. Someone I could watch out for and some one
who on occasion looked up to me.
Helene, my little sister, used to spend big chunks of time every summer in Pennsylvania
with us. Her home was in Maryland, but we were glad when summer arrived and
Helene became a real pleasant change in our daily routine.
Not only did we have a little sister to look out for, we had a girl to tease. I say we,
because I was not into this mischief by myself. My brother Jeffrey loved to tease
his little sister too.
But little sister discovered a path of revenge for the terror and suffering her adopted
male siblings inflicted upon her.
At breakfast time, she would sit patiently and quietly at her seat. Breakfast would
arrive. She still would not flinch. Then just as Jeffrey and I were about to
really get into our breakfast, the first fork of which just had entered our mouths,
Helene would get the ketchup bottle and cover half the plate with the red,
painfully-slow-pouring stuff. Her eggs were the main target but it went everywhere
That killed my breakfast. There was something about a plate of ketchup early in the
morning that did adverse things to my appetite. And then you had the yellow yolks of the
eggs trying to peek through this breakfast Red Sea. Just talking about it killed my
appetite for breakfast this morning and to this day, I hold fast to the belief that Helene
did this as her quiet way of paying me back for such offenses as water balloons
dropped from my third-floor bedroom window.
Helene and I still are like brother and sisters. The time we get to spend together,
although limited, is cherished. I love her husband like a brother. She married
Robert, and if I had to pick someone for her, I would have chosen him. His only
problem is he is a Redskins fan. They have three great children, the youngest of
which is my God Daughter, Nicole. And they still are in the Maryland area. See
a lot of things do not change.
Each summer we all get together in Harper's Ferry, West Virginia. One morning,
as we all sat around talking about the good old days over breakfast. Helene, with a
smile reminded me how I could, on occasion, be very mean to her. And the
smile got even bigger as she picked up the ketchup bottle and plopped a big glob of
it right on top of her eggs, just as I took my first and last fork full
of breakfast.
My little sister has a memory like an elephant and enough ketchup stored away to keep me
in my place for the rest of my life.
Deep in her heart though, Helene really has forgiven me for all of my childhood
foolishness. She knows it was not done to be hurtful but really was a way of showing her
attention and love.
God has a nice way of forgiving and forgetting also. He knows that we often mean no
harm by the things that we do, despite the fact they may not be pleasing to God and
perhaps even hurtful to others.
God not only forgives, but he forgets. He never reminds us of where we have come
from, he just lifts us up for where we are at.
When God forgives us, the slate is wiped clean, the memory is erased. It is as if it
never happened. With God, you never have to worry about the ketchup bottle being
picked up and its contents poured all over a plate.
