God Gave Her a Big Heart… and Somehow I Got the Attitude

To celebrate my baby sister Robin’s birthday, I want to share a little about her heart. It’s rare these days to meet someone who is genuinely selfless. Oh, we see them on TV all the time—those perfectly lit angels who save the world before breakfast. And Hollywood stays inventing imaginary characters who always know the right thing to say, with hair that never frizzes. But to meet a real one? A flesh-and-blood, imperfect human who still manages to love people like Jesus is watching? Now that’s rare.

But you know what’s even rarer?
When that person is someone you grew up with—sharing cereal, bedrooms, hair grease, and the family-sized bottle of nerves. My baby sister is one of those people.

She is my ride-or-die, my confidant, my “tell me the truth even if it stings” person. And she does it without a hint of mean spiritness. I don’t know how she manages it. When I tell people the truth, somehow it comes out sounding like a Yelp review. But her? She can say, “Now you know you’re wrong,” and I’ll thank her like she handed me a warm biscuit.

And then there’s her faith.
Lord, this woman has crazy faith. Not the dollar-store kind that breaks as soon as life gets heavy. I’m talking about the “Either it’s for me or I’ll sit here in ‘waiting mode’ like a saint on standby” kind of faith. I’ve watched her get hurt—deeply—and not once have I seen her retaliate. If it were me? Baby, I’d have a whole monologue drafted in Notes. But she just breathes, heals, and carries on.

I fuss at her constantly about that big ol’ heart. I tell her people will take advantage. She shrugs it off faster than someone shaking snow off a jacket. “I’m fine,” she says, and she means it. Meanwhile, I’m in the background plotting security protocols for her heart like it’s Fort Knox.

Now let me tell you the part that should come with its own standing ovation.
As a single mother, my sister has fostered more children than some people have houseplants. And while others have ridiculed her for loving kids so deeply, those same kids have blossomed under her care—like God planted something special in her hands.

And when she felt that a child staying in the foster care system wouldn’t serve them well?
She didn’t just pray about it.
She adopted them.
Called them her own.
Loved them into stability.

I don’t think she understands what a gift she has. She can take the most difficult child—the one with edges sharper than a brand-new pair of scissors—and somehow shave those rough patches down until that child shines like gold. Me? I’d be trying to find the nearest exit, pretending I left something in the car.

When the Scriptures say to care for the orphans, I’m convinced my sister must’ve been at the front of that line waving her hand like she was bidding at an auction. And me? Oh, I would be absolutely hiding behind folks in that line, peeking out like, “Y’all got this?”

There were moments when I wanted to yell, “Girl, just let that child go!” But she held on like it was the last rope in a rescue mission. She still does. Every single day she pours herself into working with special needs children at her job, while raising the last of her adopted babies at home.

We make heroes out of firefighters, doctors, nurses—and rightfully so. But how often do we look inside our own family circle and say, “You know what? That right there is a real-life superhero”?
We overlook them because their heroism doesn’t come with a theme song or flashing lights. But that doesn’t make it any less honorable.

Even God tells us in James 1:27 that true religion—the kind that actually means something—is caring for children who don’t have a family.

And if that’s the standard, my sister has been preaching a whole sermon with her life.

Mama Wisdom Reflection:

Sometimes God places people in our lives not just to love us, but to show us what love looks like in motion. My sister reminds me that real heroism doesn’t always show up wearing a badge or a cape—sometimes it’s wearing sweatpants, holding a crying child, signing school papers, and praying in the dark when nobody’s watching.

She teaches me that compassion is not weakness, patience is not passivity, and loving people—especially the hard-to-love ones—isn’t foolish…it’s divine work.

And here’s the truth Mama Wisdom has learned the long way around:
The people who give the most rarely realize how much they’re pouring out.
That’s why God places the rest of us nearby—to witness it, honor it, and remind them, “Baby, you are doing holy work even when you feel ordinary.”

So if you’ve got a quiet hero in your family, don’t wait until a holiday or a crisis to tell them. Celebrate them now. Admire them now. Love on them now.

Because some angels live so close to the ground…
you might miss their wings if you’re not paying attention.