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Writer's pictureBec Lanham

When I was six!


Do you remember when you were six years old? I do! I'm the family elephant. I seem to remember every single detail about our childhood.


When I was six, I remember, the world was my oyster.


Well, at least in the early days of being six. Life was good, and I knew it. I had everything I'd ever needed.


And lots of things I wanted.


My world was a pink gingham castle, including a four-poster princess bed, complete with pink gingham bedspread, matching wallpaper, and not to be outdone, matching nightie and dressing gown.


Dresses and barbies, love, and attention, I had it all.


I remember I was necessary and had a position in the world; I was valued. I had the full devotion of everyone in my life. Nothing was going to stop me from being amazing.


But out of nowhere, and seemingly with no warning, my world changed.


Everything a six-year-old could hold dear was about to be ripped away.


My value, my status, my position in the world as I knew it, GONE!

When I was six years, one month and seventeen days, I remember my dad came home just as my brothers and I sat around the table having dinner with my Nanna.


He brought with him disastrous news.


My little sister had been born!


I was not happy!


Up to that point, I was the only girl on my mum's side of the family. A position of immense power.


There were six boys, two brothers, and four cousins. This was a golden age for a young princess to enjoy the spoils of her unique status. I didn't want anything, or anyone, to get in the way of my reign.


How on earth could I compete with as my dad called her this 'beautiful blue-eyed baby girl.'


Devastation!!


Now she got all the attention.


I remember people came from far and wide to see this little bundle of joy. They arrived with gifts and blessings, and did I mention ATTENTION!


Everything was about the baby. What we did, where we went, how long everything would take. This baby became the centre of our world.


Didn't I just get through explaining, I was the centre of the world!


Some of you may be thinking, this six-year-old, me, was a little spoilt. You're right! I was spoilt.

But as I've tried to explain to others before today, you don't know it when you're in it.


It wasn't me who asked to be given everything. Well, not everything! I also didn't ask for it to be taken away.


How does that happen? (Picture now a six-year-old throwing a full-on tantrum.)


But eventually, it dawned on me.


When I thought I had lost all that was important about who I was and how I was valued, I was given this incredible gift.


I was given a sister. And I became a sister.


Something happened in our relationship very soon after she was born, and I'm pretty sure that at six, I didn't really know what it was. But I found my need to love and protect this tiny little person had begun, and 46 years later, it still remains.


A bond developed with this baby sister of mine, which is different from the one which existed between my brothers and me. It was different and remains today distinct from any other relationship I have ever had.


Was this instinct? Was it a natural thing that automatically develops between sisters? Where did it come from?


Can you have a maternal instinct at six? Did this count as maternal?


Is the need to love, care, nurture, and protect the exclusive instinct of a mother?


At six, I didn't know the difference between instinct and education.


Had caring for my dolls Cinnamon and Velvet, prepared me to love this baby? Or had playing with GI Joe under the house in a battle against the enemy prepared me to be a protector? Did I learn how to love this little baby, or was it part of who I was?


I was a child, and the only thing which determined my connection to this baby was the simple fact she was my sister.


Being a sister is nothing more than a label. It has no intrinsic value. It is merely a word that determines for others the relationship between one person and another.


It may point to some expected behaviours, and a role, but it does not ensure a set of feelings towards that person. Being labelled a sister did not instantly give me the love and desire to care for and protect which I had clearly developed for this little girl.


My primary instinct was to hate and be jealous of this little baby. The only thing I wanted to protect was my own rank in my own world. I didn't love anything more than I loved myself, and my own need for attention and importance.


I know my appreciation for my sister changed over the years. There were moments of unbelievable annoyance and jealously, and moments equally of love and the knowledge of an overwhelming bond that can never be broken.


There were times in her life when I felt like I was raising her. There were times in her life when I provided for her. There were times in her life when I was there for her. And times when I let her down. But once I knew I loved her, when I knew I wanted to protect her, regardless of what happened, there has never been a time when that was not true.


When I was six, I played with GI Joe as much as I played with Barbie. I played footy with the boys in the park, and dress ups with the girl across the street. I loved pink but happily dug in the brown dirt under the house.


But none of these activities determined whether I would be good at loving someone, nurturing someone, or encouraging and supporting someone.


My love and care for my sister gave me a place to express my natural ability to love, care, nurture, and protect. But this was my natural ability. It is not necessarily everyone's natural ability. We cannot assume all of us will know how to, or feel they can. Equally, we cannot judge those whose natural abilities are different from our own.


The way I love, the way I love my sister, does not make me better or worse than anyone else. It simply makes me, me.


We cannot determine what natural abilities any other person needs to have to be who they are, and to fulfil the role they have been given.


When I was six, the world was my oyster. I could be anything I wanted to be. But how did I work out what that was?


And what is the difference between what I was created to be, and what role, job, or status I would achieve?


When we start using terms like natural and normal, all of a sudden, there is an opportunity to feel different or less. Each of us is given natural abilities. Each of us is created uniquely for a purpose.


As soon as we look to someone else's achievements to decide what is normal or natural, we slowly start to diminish our own value.


We slowly start to lose our own identity.


When I was six, I knew how to love my sister. While I remember a lot, I don't remember precisely when that happened, but it wasn't the first day we met. Loving my sister feels like what I was built to do, but I don't know why, because I know it is not how everyone feels.


If I tell you it's normal to love your sister, your mum, your grandma, or even your child, I am setting you up to feel anything but normal.


If I tell you it is natural to love your sister, your mum, your grandma, or even your child, I am setting you up to feel like you are not enough.


There are things we can learn to do, and some things we were made to do. But each of us is created uniquely, and each of us has a purpose and a plan. It may sound cliché, but it is what we all have in common as a child of God.


Don't let the world decide who you are, or what is your normal. Seek God and ask Him to tell you, to show you.


It will be a special gift to you, and you will be able to share it, and it will give you great peace.


When I was six, the world was my oyster, and the pearl from that oyster was the gift of my beautiful sister.


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