I’ve loved just about everything in this season of life. Maybe I really am in the best years now. Penny and I laugh when we look at pictures of ourselves when we were thirty and forty years old and think of how we used to complain that we were getting so old or so fat or that we had too many bulges and wrinkles.
What a joke on us! We were young, and we looked good. Now we are getting old, but we feel good. We’re free.
Last night I felt so free I did something I’d never done before. All week here at Kiitos Cottage the weather has been perfect. Yesterday was a balmy seventy-two degrees with primrose blue skies. The fingers of Maple Leaf Lake were tap-tapping persistently on the shore all afternoon as I wrote. The water beckoned me to come in and seize the final days of this Indian summer warmth before fall rode in on a chilling wind and took the brilliant colored leaves for a jovial spin.
I decided I was the one who should go for a jovial spin. I’d just finished writing everything I wanted to say about Finland, and I wanted to mark the moment with a little celebration.
Twilight dimmed the lights of day so that all the stars could come out in their bare, shining glory. I wanted to join them. I slipped out of my shorts and sweatshirt and padded down to the water’s edge in my elegant black undies. Wading into the cooling waters that had baked all afternoon in the sun, I lifted my arms in an act of solitary worship to the One who made the stars and sent them spinning through the galaxies.
No words were left in me to give Him in that moment. So I gave Him my tears.
That’s when He pushed the moon, that eternal night-light, up just over the top of the cedar trees. I lowered myself into the water and stretched out so that I was floating on my back, watching that perfectly round, vastly golden moon as it bobbed in the water beside me.
I imagined that the shivering tickles on the back of my neck were tiny fish that had come to greet me with little fish kisses. As I floated, I noticed that the moon now bobbed on my other side.
“Imagine that!” I said to the stars. “The moon has just jumped over me!”
I slept deep last night. When I woke this morning I tidied the cabin, set out my forget-me-not teapot with matching teacup along with Penny’s daisy teacup. Her plane left San Francisco at seven in the morning, which meant I should start listening for her rental car on the gravel road around nine-thirty. As soon as she arrived, I knew we would sit on the front porch and have our traditional pot of tea along with whatever bakery muffins or bagels she had managed to grab on her way to the airport.
With care, I placed the journal of my Finland memoirs on the porch swing where Penny usually sat and went inside to start the teakettle. I couldn’t wait for her to read our story and for the two of us to begin our weekend of doing what we did best, which was just being us.
That’s when I heard the crush of tires on gravel coming down the long road to Kiitos Cottage. Peeking out the window above the kitchen sink, I spotted a sleek, silver convertible flashing through the row of pine trees. The driver wore sunglasses and a long, hot pink, polka-dotted scarf around her neck that fluttered like a banner declaring wild, wonderful freedom as brightly as possible.
But something was different.
I stepped out on the porch and watched the car come to a pebble-spinning halt. The woman in the pink scarf flipped up her sunglasses and stepped out of the convertible with a large white pastry box.
I stood still for a moment.
Oh, Penny Girl, what have you done?
Her hair was shockingly short, the way the grannies had worn theirs in Finland. It was also white. As bleached white as the pastry box she held in her hand.
“I brought your birthday cake,” Penny called out the moment she spotted me. “I figured, why eat muffins with our morning tea when we can eat cake? Chocolate, of course.”
“Of course.” I wrapped my arms around her and drew in the fresh floral notes of her expensive perfume. She planted her signature greeting kiss on my right cheekbone, and I returned the same.
“Love your hair,” I told her.
“Do you? Really? I got tired of fighting the gray, but I thought it might be a little on the wild side.”
I laughed. “You, a little on the wild side? Never.”
Well,” Penny said with a grin, “at least it didn’t turn green!”
I laughed with her as we linked arms and headed for the front porch of Kiitos cottage, our breakfast of chocolate cake in hand.
Forever eighteen. Forever knit together by the same hands that dimpled the moon with His thumbprint. Forever sister-chicks.
Discussion Questions
What do you think Penny meant when Ben broke his wrist and she told Sharon, “This will be the making of him”?
How do you think your family and friends would respond if you announced that you were taking a trip like the one Sharon and Penny went on?
How would the trip have been different if Penny and Sharon had waited and went after their children were all grown?
Do you think Sharon truly resolved her conflicts with Gloria? Why?
What relative or acquaintance might God want to love through you? What action could you take to show God’s love to that person?
Do you think Penny should have told Sharon about Wolf, or would it have been better to leave the past as the past?
Why was the communion service in the Helsinki church so different for Sharon, and how do you think it changed her?
If you, like Jesus’ disciples, cast your net on the other side of your boat of life, what do you think you would catch? What would make that change in your life risky?
In what ways could you be clothed in strength and dignity? What new “garb” would you need?
Recall a time you’ve ever been in Elina’s position and had “imposing” company arrive at an inconvenient time. Compare how you handled it with how Elina did. Did you or Elina do better?
When Penny and Dave were first married, they had very little and lived in substandard housing. When Sharon was without her luggage, she found she could get by with much less than usual. Tell about a time in your life when you lived with just the basics. How did you feel?
What were the key elements that drew Sharon and Penny into a friendship and prompted Penny to dub them “sisterchicks”?
If you had an opportunity to go on a sisterchick adventure to any place in the world, where would you go and whom would you want to take with you?
The publisher and author would love to hear your
comments about this book. Please contact us at:
www.multnomah.net/robinjonesgunn
Sisterchick n.: a friend who shares the deepest wonders of your heart, loves you like a sister, and provides a reality check when you’re being a brat.
Former College Roomies Make
Waves on Waikiki
Some dreams take a while before they come true. Best friends Hope and Laurie never made it to Hawaii during their college years. But when they’re about to turn forty, the islands still beckon, and off they go—with an unexpected stowaway on board. A little pineapple, a little sunshine, and a surprising little surfing lesson give these two sisterchicks all their crazy hearts could hope for—and more—as they enter the next season of their lives with a splash and with a beautiful vision of what God has dreamed up for them.
ISBN 1-59052-226-5
Sisterchicks Do the Hula
by Robin Jones Gunn
In five days Laurie and I were scheduled to meet up in Honolulu. What triggered my meltdown was an ordinary box that arrived on my doorstep in the snow. Inside was my maternity bathing suit.
Blithely carrying the box upstairs, I drew the curtains, closed the bedroom door, and peeled off layers of warm clothes. Relieved that the back-ordered item had arrived in time, I wiggled my way into the new swimsuit, slowly turned toward the mirror on the back of the bedroom door, and took in the sight of my blessed belly wrapped in swaddling aqua blue spandex.
First the front view. Then the side. Other side. Twisti
ng my head over my shoulder, I got a glimpse of the backside. Then quickly returned to the front view.
I was shocked! Completely shocked!
The woman in the mirror shook her head at me. “You’re not considering going out in public wearing that, are you?”
“Yes?” I answered with a woeful sigh. “Although, I didn’t think it would look like this on me.”
“Oh, really? And just what did you think it would look like on you?”
“Well, not like this.”
For months I had been riding high on the “blessed-art-thou-among-women” cloud. I considered it a privilege to carry this baby. I told myself I was participating in a calling that was higher than fashion and charm. Who cares about beauty? The truth was, my body was nurturing new life.
However, truth and beauty had crashed head-on in my bedroom mirror.
“I like this shade of blue,” I declared, trying to be positive.
“Yeah? Well, from where I’m standing, that shade of blue does not appear to be too fond of you, sweetheart.”
“Maybe I could return this one and order the black one instead.”
“Right, because everyone knows that black is always so much more slimming.”
“There was that black one with the little pleated skirt …”
“Okay, yeah, there you go. Because nothing says dainty like Shamu in a tutu.”
“Hey!” I turned away and covered my belly as if to protect Emilee’s ears from this audacious woman. “You don’t have to be rude about it!”
“Look who’s talking.”
I glared over my shoulder at the mannerless minx and found I couldn’t say anything. I could only stare at her. At myself. At what I had become. How did this happen?
How could it be that my two dreams had intersected this way? Innocent little Emilee Rose was my dream baby come true. A trip to Hawaii with Laurie was a dream that had waited patiently for two decades to come true.
But someone had taken my two best dreams and poured them into a single test tube when I wasn’t looking. Now the churning, foaming result bubbled over the top and ended up larger than life in my bedroom mirror. There she stood, defying me to accept the truth.
I was old.
And I was not beautiful. How had those two facts escaped me in the bliss of being a middle-aged life bearer?
Fumbling my way out of the aqua swimsuit and trying to stop the ridiculous flow of big, globby tears, I turned my back on the mirror and plunged into my roomiest maternity clothes. Leaning against the ruffled pillows that lined our bedroom window seat, I inched back the curtains and let the tears gush.
Outside, an icy January snowstorm was elbowing its way down the eastern seaboard, causing the limbs of our naked elm tree to shiver uncontrollably. Beside me was a tour book of Hawaii. The cover showed shimmering white sand, pristine blue water, and a graceful palm tree stretching toward the ocean as if offering its hand for the waves to kiss. Beautiful people from all over the world came to bask in the sun and stroll along such exotic beaches in this island paradise.
I glanced sympathetically at the quivering elm tree out my window and tried to imagine slender tropical palms in full sunlight, swaying in the breeze, green and full of life.
“That’s right. Think about the beautiful beaches, the sunshine, and all the fun you and Laurie are going to have.”
I blew my nose and glanced at the mirror.
She was still there, delivering her sugary sass. “Don’t think of the other tourists—those twenty-year-old toothpicks in their bikinis, sauntering down the beach with their long, cellulite-free legs and their flat stomachs. Who cares that you’ll be the only woman on the beach looking like a bright blue Easter egg on parade?”
I picked up a pillow, took aim, and …
The bedroom door swung open, forcing the mirror maven into hiding. My hero entered with a tube of caulking in his hand. “There you are. You okay?”
I clutched the pillow to my middle and nodded.
Darren glanced out the window and then down at the tour book beside me. “I heard this storm is supposed to blow over by Monday. Should be clear sailing when you fly out on Wednesday morning.”
“That’s what I heard, too.” My voice sounded surprisingly steady.
Darren stepped into our bathroom and proceeded to caulk the shower.
“Hope, can you come here and tell me if this looks straight to you?”
I didn’t need to go in there to see if his caulking line was straight. Darren’s repairs were never straight. But they always worked. That’s all that mattered to me.
“Looks good.” I tilted my head ever so slightly so that the line along the base of the shower honestly did appear straight.
He glanced up from his kneeling position. With a tender pat on my belly, he said, “And you look good to me.”
“Bahwaaaaah!” I burst into tears all over again.
“What’s wrong? What did I say?” Darren was on his feet, trying to wrap both arms around me and draw me close. “Why are you crying?”
“How can I possibly look good to you? I’m pregnant! I’m really, really pregnant!”
“Of course you are. Why are you crying?”
“Because I’m going to Hawaii!”
“Yes, you’re going to Hawaii. Come on now, pull yourself together.”
I kept crying.
Darren looked frantic. He stepped back and, fumbling for his roguish smirk, said, “So, is this a hormone thing?”
“No, it’s not a hormone thing! I’m old, Darren! I’m old and pregnant, and I’m going to Hawaii. Can you understand how that makes me feel?”
He couldn’t.
How could I possibly expect my husband to understand all the bizarre things that happen to a woman in spirit and flesh when a friendly alien takes over her body? He still couldn’t figure out why Laurie and I wanted to fly all the way to Hawaii just to spend a week lounging around a pool, comparing underarm flab, when we could stay home and have the same conversation over the phone for a lot less money.
I took a deep breath. “You know what? I don’t care what anyone says. These screaming purple stretch marks running up my biscuit-dough thighs are stripes of honor.”
“Exactly.”
“I earned every one of those zingers!”
“Of course you did, honey.”
“I am a Mother, with a capital M.”
“Never doubted it for a moment.”
“And everyone knows that aqua is the perfect motherhood color, even in the tropics.”
“Especially in the tropics.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
What my husband had just observed was a 95 percent hormone-induced solar flare. But there was no way on this blue earth that I would reveal that scientific secret to him.
I concluded my little skit by clearing my throat and saying, “I think your caulking looks good. Very nice.”
“Thanks. And I meant what I said. You look good to me, too.”
“Thank you.” I turned with my chin raised in valor and tried to glide gracefully out of the bathroom, my beach-ball belly exiting a full half a second before the rest of me.
Reaching for the much-debated swimsuit, I rolled it up and tucked it into the corner of my suitcase. Over my shoulder I could feel the mirror maven working up a good sass-and-slash comment. Before she had a chance to deliver it, I turned to face her full on. “Let’s see now. One of us is stuck to piece of particle-board, and one of us is leaving for Hawaii on Wednesday. Any guesses as to which one you are?”
She didn’t say a word. She knew her place. And I was about to find mine.
Robin Jones Gunn, Sisterchicks on the Loose
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