My little sister, the cute one in the middle, got engaged this weekend.
AAAGGGHHHHH. How is that possible? Seriously, I realize she is 21 now, but in my mind she is five, seven, maybe ten...I mean really, after about 5th grade the girl stopped growing in my mind and she just stayed a cute, innocent, scraggly toothed little fifth grader. And what kind of man proposes to a 5th grader??? Sarah Miller? What kind of last name is that? It all seems so impossible.
She met her fiance this past summer in Africa. And if I am brutally honest, I suppose he is perfect for her and the last name Miller sounds OK on her (not my top choice, I would rather it just be Sarah Chisolm forever, but the new name is OK). I don't want my little cute baby sister to grow up, but if she has to, I am glad she is growing up with him. They both love people. They both love missions. They both love Africa. They both want to adopt orphans. They both laugh and have fun and love life. They are both truly nice, real, passionate people, and they found each other. That's pretty perfect.
And, much to my embarrassment, I totally drilled the guy for three hours the very first time I met him and prevented him from watching the sporting game we were at, and he passed. So I have to let him in the family now. Right?
So Sarah met her husband to be in Africa while working with orphans and AIDS patients and driving through new, foreign cities. Melissa, our other sister, met her husband while traveling through Europe after college. Italy in fact, she met and fell in love with her husband in Italy. Then after they got married, he had time off of work to recover from being in Afghanistan with the military, and since he was stationed in Italy, they spent their time off trapezing through the European continent...Switzerland, Germany, Greece, Spain, Rome, England, Paris, skiing, hiking, museums, waterfalls, carriage rides...you get the point. Sarah in Africa. Melissa in Italy.
And me? Well, I met my husband in Waco, Texas at a college retreat and caught his attention by being the one girl who went back to the table for three refills of the homemade chicken spaghetti. Jeez. Totally lame. Italy, Africa, and then the fat girl who ate too much at a retreat!
Congratulations to my beautiful, kind, loving, genuine, sincere, precious little baby sister Miguel (my nickname for her) and the very lucky guy who gets to live his life growing old with her...