Doing the Gratitude Dance

This post is part of TSP’s network-wide “Sisters I’ve Met Along the Way” celebration, marking 9 months of blogging together, and toasting the women (and men) we’ve met.

WHEN WE STARTED The Sister Project, I was excited, but not exactly dancing. I worried about my role: I have no sisters. True, I parent a sister, and my mother lives with me (a strange sort, maybe, but a sort of sisterhood nonetheless), and I am lucky to have collected friends who feel to me like sisters, but was it enough? Did I have anything to say on this shapeshifting, all-important subject of the sisterly bond? As it turned out, it didn’t really matter, because I kept finding women who were able to say it for me. And their lessons, post by post, comment by comment, profile by profile, have taught me more about that crazy question of ours of “What means sisterhood?” than I could ever have imagined, and left me dancing (sometimes figuratively, sometimes for real) with joy. Have you met these remarkable women? Read on.

The first artist Margaret and I interviewed together was the incredible Elsa Mora. I’d stumbled across her work online, and couldn’t shake the feeling that her work (especially her beautiful papercuts of girls and animals and mysterious creatures) had something to say about our subject. Little did either Margaret or I know the incredible story, one Elsa hadn’t discussed much publicly before, that would emerge in our interview. From that serendipitous and beautiful start, I was hooked.

The artists and cooks and crafters kept coming. Swedish artist and illustrator Camilla Engman, a woman with an international reputation and legions of fans, said yes when we, on a wing and a prayer, asked her to be subject of one of our galleries.

Shauna James Ahern, a blogger and writer I’d long admired from afar, also agreed to be part of our little experiment. So, so many inspiring women felt the pull of sisterhood even with a bunch of strangers (us!) and agreed to join in.

We profiled sisters Sarah and Katy McColl, cooks and writers and media mavens both, and Katy gave me an incredible opportunity to expand my reach as a writer. The unique artistry of Amanda Blake, Bonnie McLauglin and Julianna Bright just blew my mind.

And our community isn’t just confined to the subjects we write about. Commenters have become part of our constellation of treasured siblings, like amazing Marilyn, a chef and blogger from Lawrence, Kansas. She found us, we fell in love with her blog, too, and before you could say “sisters in the kitchen,” Marilyn and I were swapping stories and recipes and tips for dealing with our crazy curly hair.

I’ve now been honored to contribute to her blog, and she’s allowed us to post some of her own poignant and beautifully told sister reminiscences. Ditto readers-turned-friends like April, Deb and Julie, terrific bloggers whose sites are now a part of my daily must-read list.

Early on, when Margaret and Marion and Anastasia and I were first meeting in Margaret’s cozy office to figure out just what this thing of ours might become, we talked about the fun of vintage recipes, and especially those cookbooks created by church groups and Junior Leagues to raise funds and salute the culinary creativity of “ordinary” women.

Our investigations into middle-of-the-road fare from tuna casserole to meatloaf have been some of my best-read and most-commented-upon posts. I can’t wait to do more of them (and yes, I’m taking suggestions).

And, of course, my real-life sister friends have joined the party, too, graciously allowing me to write about our exploits in the kitchen, during hard times and best of all, when we gather together too infrequently to laugh and cook and soak up each other, and occasionally, yes, dance.

Thanks to Margaret, and Marion, and Anastasia, and the incredible and diverse community of women I’ve found at TSP, I more than ever understand that sisterhood is not confined to a biological state. Like so many other opportunities for love, it is a choice that we make over and again to connect, share, laugh and learn. Raise your glass, or join me in doing a little gratitude dance: I can’t thank every one of you enough for reading, for chiming in and for giving me the chance to explore sisterhood across every boundary imaginable. Here’s to more adventures ahead.

(And by the way–there will not be video of me doing the gratitude dance. At least, not any time soon. Though I do wish I’d thought of it first.)

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