When I was six years old, I found out that my mom was pregnant for the third time. And every night before I went to sleep, I would crawl in my bed and pray that God would give me a little sister. I had to pray extra hard too, because my little brother was praying that the baby would be a boy. Now I joke and say that God obviously loved me more since He answered my prayer.
My little sister is 16 years old now. She’s in high school. She’s driving. She’s taller than me. And she’s got the funniest, sassiest, and most outgoing personality of anyone I know. (Also, people think we’re twins…which I’m sure will be flattering in like ten years, but not today.)