Sept. 1

It's always a weird day for me.

My body knows what day it is, so it never wants to get out of bed.

Then something awesome happens, so I don't have time to think about what day it is.

A series of wonderful events occurs, and it's almost always a great day.

Until it's night time and I'm alone with time to think about what day it is.

And then I cry.

My sister died twenty-one years ago.

I didn't know her, of course.

If she had lived, I probably wouldn't exist.

But she's still my sister.

She will always be a part of who I am.

One of my biggest fears is that we won't all recognize each other when we get to Heaven.

I don't know all of what the Bible says, or how ambiguous it is about this subject.

I know that we will have resurrection bodies.

I hope and pray and beg that I will know my sister.

I know that if I don't know who she is, it won't matter.

But I want to know her.

I talk to her. I feel a little weird about it.

But I know I'm not the only one who talks to someone who has died.

I don't know whether or not she can hear me.

That's all I have for today.