Hemlock Street

In July, my twin sister, my very best friend, will be moving into a home that she won’t share with me. This isn’t anything new- four years ago we decided to go to different colleges, and I can remember the times when she unpacked her bags in the dorm room that would end up being the room next to the loud girls, and in the room that more or less resembled a closet, and then again in a house of girls that love Jesus, the house that they named Where the Sidewalk Ends. No, this move won’t be anything new, but it will certainly be different, because this time her roommate will be a man- a man who loves her, a man who will give her a new name.

Yes, my twin sister is getting married. I know I’ve written about this already, but it’s my blog and I get to write about what I want. And this whole twin-getting-married thing is suprisingly hard for me to accept. I have all these feelings deep in me that make me cry almost every time I picture her moving into that house on Hemlock Street- cold, nostalgic, lazy tears that bring a thousand memories of falling asleep together, of holding her hand, of pinching her arm when we silently were thinking the same thing.

But those tears aren’t the whole story. Not by a long shot. I also cry tears of love and acceptance of what is and what is inevitable. I love Zack and that because of his love for Britt, she has a fuller knowledge of God’s love for her. His love delivers her and acts on her behalf. I cry because his love for her is so untamed, so very good. I cry because of the beauty of the ministry they’ll have on that Hemock Street together.

That home on Hemlock Street. I choose to celebrate the home, the life that my precious twin sister is about to create with her soon-to-be husband. And this past weekend was a beautiful celebration as the three of us painted the walls of that little home and sang the joys of living this thing called life together.