Long before we even knew our family would be growing, she said she wanted a sister. Please, please, she begged. She wanted someone to clink teacups with and dress up and share her bunk bed. She talked about this sister for months, how she would learn to braid her hair and teach her ballet.
And then she said,
"I wish I had a sister that matched me."
I wonder which came first...the longing for someone to share a dollhouse or the longing for someone to look...familiar. I realize her desire to match someone has much to do with the fact that in our family and community, she stands nearly alone in her ethnicity and race. I ache, knowing that this desire represents so very much that I can't fully understand or give to her. So when the open doors led us to adopt from China, we marveled that sisters sharing a birth continent might just "match."
And, goodness, when God knits families together, He alone knows the colors needed to make something...match. I marvel at this, when black head bends to little sister's brown curls and when hands hold each other tightly -- one golden, one pearl. But their hearts? The same yarn woven
through and through.
Their hearts...they match.