Dorm living is exactly what I should be doing right now and right here at Trinity Western University in Langely, B.C. Canada.

Yesterday at 8:30 AM, I awoke with a glowering mother standing over me. Her hair was still wet from her shower and she wore no make-up–somewhat startling for someone to see first thing in the morning.

She was obviously angry.

Dialogue was strewn out and in high, tensified voices. She was “fed up” with my sleeping schedule and upon hearing from my sister that I was still up at 1:30 AM reviewing my blogs, she walked into my room and threatened my driving privileges.

“I don’t think I’m going to let you drive to Canada today.”

Now, I’m not one to sacrifice myself to humiliation, but at that moment, I could care less. I begged. I pleaded. I threw off my bed covers and was prepared to get down on my knees. However, my cries were enough to sway my mother’s decision back to the lighter side of things and she told me I could go.

My entire life, my sister and I have never been friends. Which is correct? If two people are exactly alike, they won’t get along very well? Or is it when they are too different from each other? In the case of my 21-year-old recently married sister, we are somewhere in the middle. We are both intelligent and talented, but in our own special God-given ways. We both hate being wrong, but I am always prepared to back down whereas she hates to leave things “unsettled.”

After dressing, I took Cassie to the house she would be sitting. On the way there, she noticed I was quiet. I wish now that I had been bubbly and light-hearted, but I allowed my upsetting morning to shine through–probably for her benefit. She asked me what was wrong and to say the least, it turned into a huge battle of words and accusations.

Leah and I talked about it late last night and I confessed how I had never in my entire life wanted so much to scream the words, “I hate you!” than at that moment in the car. I admitted how awful I felt for even considering saying such a thing and I questioned whether or not I hate her or not. Leah said it helps to imagine someone you “dislike” suddenly dying, unexpectedly, and how that image makes you feel. I thought that was funny because that morning in the car, as I tried proving my “hatred,” I imagined my sister’s life suddenly in danger. Suddenly, in this mini-picture I had created, I thought of me standing in front of a gun to take the bullet or taking a knife and putting it in my own stomach in order to save her from whatever threatened her life.

Leah said, “…That’s love.”

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