MY LITTLE SISTER

I was nine years old and I was at my aunt’s house with my two sisters and our grandmother when our mother popped in for a visit. I’m sure I already knew she was pregnant but that day was the first time I remember knowing. She stayed for a while and then she had to go. As she was leaving, I remember my aunt saying something like, “She’ll have that baby before the next full moon,” and I remember her confirming that she had been right when we heard that we had a new baby sister. We didn’t get to see the little rug rat as often as we wanted to but Momma would bring her to see us as often as she could and we would go visit them when we could.

My most memorable moment with her was when she was about two years old. Our Aunt Lee took us and our grandma to visit them. After several hours of playing and having loads of fun with her, it was time to leave. She was dirty all over from playing in the dirt and her face was the worst. She was giving everybody hugs and kisses and she came to me. We hugged and even though her face was covered with dirt, I was about to kiss her on the cheek. Just as I puckered up and came close to her face, she turned her head and kissed me right on my lips with the wettest, snottiest mouth you could imagine. I loved her, but I was spitting out the car window all the way home. It’s funny now and we’ve had several laughs about it over the years, but it wasn’t funny at all then.

When she was three years old, we moved next door to them. Then, we got to play with her all day, every day. We had lots of fun, but sometimes I guess we forgot that she was smaller and a bit more fragile than we were and she would get hurt. I liked pushing her in toy cars and on her tricycle. One day I noticed the extra dirt left over from putting our septic tank in the ground. It reminded me of one of the ramps that Evel Knievel would use to jump his motorcycle over different things. I couldn’t resist. I was thinking, “She has three wheels, she’ll be fine.” So, I told her to hold her feet up off the peddles, as I had before when I pushed her fast. Then I pushed her faster than ever, and I let her go with an extra shove just a few feet from the dirt mound. “Yes!” She jumped and landed on all three wheels without falling over or falling off the tricycle, BUT, she kept rolling for a bit too long. I saw her start wobbling and before I could get to her, she hit the front steps and fell over on them, and split her lip open. Momma wasn’t happy about that at all, so I felt bad for more than one reason. If you know what I mean.

We’re all grown up now and have children of our own, but I still have good memories of our childhood together and all the crazy fun we’ve had over the years. When I was seventeen, I wrote a song about her. It may not be a masterpiece, but here are the words.

SISTER MARY
by Teddy Lynn 
1985

VERSE 1
Eyes like diamonds, a smile bright as the sun
A dirty face from having too much fun
Snotty nose and a snotty kiss
I’m afraid someday I’ll be missing this

CHORUS
Sister Mary, I love you with all of my heart
We have to spend way too much time apart
I guess that makes me really appreciate you
Sister Mary, I’ll always be there for you

VERSE 2
Smiling from ear to ear reaching out for me
Your eyes full of tears when I have to leave
A heart full of love as big as the sky
Handfuls of kisses, but the days fly by

CHORUS…

BRIDGE
It won’t be long until you’re grown
You’ll marry and you’ll be gone
Everything may change and be rearranged
But my love for you will remain

CHORUS

Sister Mary © copyright 2010 Teddy Lynn – BMI

As I said, it’s not a masterpiece, that’s just how I expressed my feelings before blogging and social media came along. Siblings can sometimes have strained relationships and can sometimes even hate each other, but some share a great bond. I’m thankful for my little sister and the good relationship we’ve always had. Since we’ve grown up, we don’t see each other as often as we used to, but I still love her as much as I did when we were kids. There’s nothing like family, and there’s nothing like good memories, so cherish both, while you still have them.

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I MISS MY SISTER AND MY FRIEND

I was three years old, and my younger sister, Loretta, and I lived with our grandmother in a little house in Theo, Mississippi. Our mother came to visit one day and introduced us to our new baby sister. Her name was Shelia. She was the first baby I ever remember seeing, and she was so beautiful. She reminded me of a baby doll like Loretta had. I just wanted to hold her and never let her go, but soon it was time for her to leave. We didn’t want her to go but we all said our goodbyes and she was gone.

We were so sad, so I got my mother’s old guitar and told my grandmother I wanted to write a song about our new sister. She got a pencil and a piece of paper, and I began to “play” the guitar, and “sing.” Can you imagine what that sounded like? Years later, I came across that piece of paper with that song written on it in my grandmother’s things. It was only a few lines, so I rewrote it and gave it to Shelia in a picture frame on her birthday one year. She loved it and always said it meant the world to her.

When we were younger, mom and dad would bring her to visit from time to time, and we would go see them occasionally. Then, when she was five years old, she came to live with us. She was my best friend. I could tell her anything. We shared a lot together. I could always make her laugh. Several times, I have said, that if I could clone her, I’d always have an audience to laugh at all my jokes.

She had her share of problems but she didn’t let too many others see them. She had a good fun-loving personality and she usually had a smile on her face. People loved her. She had so many friends. She fought cancer for eight years before losing the battle. I felt so helpless sitting there watching her die, but there was nothing I could do. I just wanted to hold her and never let her go, but soon it was time for her to leave. We didn’t want her to go but we all said our goodbyes and she was gone.

I could never forget her, or the unconditional love she had for me. She’ll always be in my heart. I loved her from the first day I saw her. We were best friends when we were growing up. She never judged or condemned me and she would never allow me to say negative things about myself. She always had good things to say about me, and she always tried to encourage me. There are just no words to describe how much I miss her. I wish I could hear her voice again. I wish I could hear her laugh again, and see her encouraging smile.

Someday, my wish will come true. It’s such a blessing to know that she was saved and we’ll all be together again when Jesus returns. We’ll get to see her again, and Daddy and Momma, and our grandmother, and the rest of our family and friends who were born again before they died. I’m looking forward to that day.

It’s important to know that we’re saved. The Bible tells us that we can know (1 John 5:13). It’s sad when a loved one dies and leaves the family to wonder if they’re saved or not, but it will be even sadder for the person who dies without being born again. As long as we’re breathing, there is hope, but when death comes to our door, our fate is sealed. If we’re saved, we’re saved. If we’re lost, we’re lost. So don’t wait a moment longer. Make that decision today, and live forever in the presence of our Lord. You won’t regret it.

Related Article: What Must I Do To Be Saved?

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OUR 34 YEAR OLD MIRACLE

A little more than 34 years ago, my wife informed me that she was having strange pains. I was concerned of course, but I didn’t think it was too serious. After all, she was pregnant, and discomfort comes with the territory. Right? Right. It couldn’t be labor pains because she was barely seven months along.

As day turned to night, the pain got worse, so we headed to the hospital, over fifty miles away. When we arrived, we found out it was labor pains, after all. The doctor said it was way too early, and the baby was way too small. He wasn’t due for almost three whole months, so they had to try to stop the labor.

They gave my wife medication for hours, and then hours turned into days. After a few days, the doctor decided he couldn’t stop the labor with the medication. To try any longer could harm the baby if it hadn’t already. He was going to come out.

We knew he was a boy and had already named him Zakary; with that weird spelling. It doesn’t seem that weird to me at all, though. It’s a better way to spell the name than ZACHARY, which I’ve never really liked at all. I guess that’s why I wanted to spell it differently. His mother wanted to name him after Zach from the TV show we loved called Saved By The Bell. She said we could name him Zakary, and call him Zak, which she never did. I got the spelling for the name from a baseball card I had of Zakary Taylor.

For months, we had been anticipating his arrival, and we were so ready to hold him in our arms, but now we were worried; really worried. It’s too early. He’s too small. He may not survive, and if he does, he may have lots of problems.

Wanting to prepare us for the worst, the doctor said, “his lungs are not developed yet. We need to give him a few rounds of steroids to help them develop. Even then, there’s no guarantee. He’ll have to stay in the hospital for a good while. He only weighs about three pounds.”

Frightening news, but we were praying, and begging God to let our son be alright. We knew God could make everything okay. He had so many times before. But, there had also been times I had prayed when things hadn’t gone well, so I was still worried.

After a few more days, and some more steroids, the doctor said he couldn’t hold back the labor any longer. We would just have to deal with whatever problems the baby would have as a result of being premature. So the next step was to go ahead and let him come out, and start working on him to ensure his survival. So, they broke the water, and we waited.

Not long into our wait, the nurses ran into the room and started checking the machines. The machines were working properly. The baby’s heart had stopped. It started back, but his heart rate kept dropping back down. After his heart stopped a second time, they rushed us down to the operating room and began a C-section to get him out as soon as possible. In no time, the doctor had him out and held him up. He was alive and breathing on his own, and he soon let everyone in the room know for sure that his lungs were well-developed. We were so happy to hear him crying.

What a miracle! The premature baby with undeveloped lungs, which the doctor said only weighed three pounds, turned out to have great lungs, and weighed over seven pounds. Praise the Lord! Thank you, Jesus.

As I held my firstborn son in my arms, I was filled with joy and awe. God had given me my heart’s desire; a son. The Bible tells us that children are a blessing from the Lord (Psalm 127:3-5). That day, that blessing was bestowed on me, and I thanked God for giving me a son.

Today, we're celebrating Zakk’s 34th birthday. That’s over a quarter of a century. It sounds like a long time, but in some ways, it seems like only yesterday when I first looked into the eyes of that beautiful blessing from God. He’s grown into a fine young man, and I’m so proud of him. He reminds me so much of me when I was his age. I love him so much, and I thank God for him, and for the awesome miracle he performed for us 34 years ago.

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© 2015 Teddy Lynn – All Rights Reserved

My books are available in paperback and digital format on Amazon @ 
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