There are some friends that become family, sisters and brothers, parents and children, by choice. One of these, my sister as surely as if we shared the same blood and DNA building blocks, gave me a red blanket for Christmas several years ago. Selected for it’s softness and gentle feel, the color was the perfect shade of an autumn red, warm and vibrant not garish. I remember unwrapping this blanket and feeling the texture, feeling my fingers sink into the threads and the warmth starting to build.
Somewhere along the years, this blanket has become much more than a blanket. My sister, who gave this gift to me, lives eight long hours away. There are times when I need her hug, her warmth and I wrap myself up in the blanket and feel her hug. When I have been sick, the threads catch my body heat and hold it close. My heat reflected back in helped my fevers break, chills to stop, and healing to begin. The blanket has been something I wrap around my shoulders, hold in my arms, and pull over my head when my head hurts, my heart hurts, or life stresses get to be too much and I want to hide.
It’s really just a blanket, but it’s the love and prayers that have happened there that have made it more like the hug of my sister.
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