My Second Mother: I Call Her Sissy

My Sister and Me, Easter about 1952

By Debra DuPree Williams

@DDuPreeWilliams

Mother’s Day has just passed. I wish that I had thought to write this prior to that Sunday. I can only trust that God’s timing is always right, even when it comes to what and when we write our blog posts.

You’ve read a couple of blogs about my mother lately. She was an amazing woman with so many talents and gifts. She left us far too soon. She was only seventy-three. But I have another woman in my life, a second mother, if you will. I call her Sissy.

My big sister Bobbie has been like a second mother to me all of my life. Our mother worked outside of our home, but Sissy was always there with me. She kept me out of trouble and made sure that I knew I was loved.

A Real Stinker

Sissy and I, About 1960, Andalusia, Alabama

I don’t remember a great deal about those years other than what a real stinker I was. Bless her heart, I don’t know why she didn’t haul off and knock some sense into me when I mercilessly aggravated her. I’d hide behind the sofa when her boyfriends would come calling. That’s all I’m going to say about that, but if you ask my brother-in-law, he will tell you what a precocious child I was.

But all little girls grow up, and eventually, even the little devil-child did, too. When I became a teenager and began asking questions about spiritual things, it was Sissy I called upon for answers. She seemed wise beyond her years, even though she was just twenty-five when I turned eighteen. She had two little ones of her own by that time, but she always had time for me. Always.

College Years

When I went away to college, I didn’t always use the best judgement. It was Sissy who counseled me and who prayed for and with me. When I had papers to write for my religion classes, I always sought her input. I couldn’t have gotten through those classes without her deep faith and understanding of God’s Word.

When I met the love of my life and became engaged to him just one week later, it was Sissy to whom I first broke the news. Of course, she told me it was way too soon, but I think that today, after our forty-plus years of marriage, she will admit that she got that one wrong.

One Scared Mama

After the birth of our first son, I was scared to death. I do mean that. I had no clue how to care for a newborn. She flew all the way from Ft. Myers, Florida, to Birmingham, Alabama, just to  help for a few days. When Kenneth had to have his little feet poked day after day to make sure his bilirubin count was low enough, it was Sissy who held him while I stood in the hallway weeping for my precious baby and his poor little feet. She and I laugh now at the last question I flung at her as she exited our home to return to her family. “What if I kill him?” I’m happy to report that Ken is still alive and thriving and busy with his own family.

Packing Up and Moving South

When our Daddy lost his job in Dothan, Alabama, and my husband was feeling called to a new career, it was Sissy I called and asked what to do. She talked to her husband who called us the next day to say that he had found jobs for both Jim and Daddy. All we had to do was move to Florida.

Acting on faith, we packed up three little boys and all of our belongings. We left a church we loved and friends we treasured. It was all part of God’s plan, for five years later, at the age of forty, I became pregnant with our fourth child Daniel. It wasn’t an easy pregnancy. I was confined to bed early on and could only get up for a quick shower or necessities. Jim had just taken a new job in Tampa, the boys and I were still in Ft. Myers. Sissy took me to all of my doctor’s appointments and helped to care for our boys when I couldn’t.

                           My Writing Buddy

Sissy and I, March, 2017

Since I first felt the call to write, besides my husband Jim and our four sons, my biggest cheerleader has been my sister. She has been beside me through this writing journey, cheering me on, even when she was battling breast cancer. She brainstorms with me and is my alpha reader. I couldn’t have done any of this without her.

Yes, I’m thankful for my sister, my second mother, for all of the things I’ve said here. But most of all, I’m thankful for her love and guidance, for her prayers for me and for my children. On days when I’ve felt like giving up on many things, she has been there, a fierce prayer warrior, standing in the gap, praying for me and my family when I had no more prayers to give. I’m more thankful for her than these words convey.

Blessed

When I was cleaning up my office and some files, I ran across this poem I wrote for her on the occasion of her seventieth birthday. I hope you will indulge my sharing it with you. It tells who she is, not only to me, but to our entire family. We are so blessed to call her family. I am blessed to call her Sissy.

Matriarch
By Debra DuPree Williams

Strong

Courageous

Wise beyond her years

Blessed with the wisdom earned from a lifetime of listening to Him

Listening to that still small voice speaking volumes about who she was to be

What her one true calling on this earth should be

Always willing to follow Him Who knows her best

She is the fabric that holds the family together

The force that binds them as one

The keeper of the memories

The one who knows all the stories

She is the link to their past, knowing the names of all who came before them

She is the one who holds their hearts in her hands

Those same hands clasped together so many times in prayer

Prayers for her her husband, her children, her grandchildren

Prayers for their health, their safety, their happiness

Those hands that toil in the garden

That make garments from mere pieces of cloth

That prepare nourishing meals year after year

The hands that brush away tears

The hands that clap with joy over the smallest of accomplishments

She is the one who leads them to grace

She is daughter, sister, wife, mother, grandmother

The one who dares them to dream the impossible

She is their past, their present, their future

She has all their hopes and all their fears and all their dreams

Tucked safely away, within the shelter of her heart

She stands before them, knowing she has done her best

She has passed love, faith, pride, wisdom, courage, and strength to each of them

She stands before them,

Matriarch

Written for Bobbie Ann Dupree Foshee


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