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As I sat in my usual spot, savoring my morning coffee on this last day of spring break, my two youngest were aggressively competing for morning snuggles. I was feeling horribly guilty about the week we’ve just had—working through their break, allowing too much screen time, hastily putting an end to sibling quarrels just so I could get back to work and make it to the end of the day.

I had made plans to spend time with them today. But if I’m being honest, there’s a part of me that wished I could just stay inside and rest.

Just then, my middle daughter runs into the room.

“Mom! It’s Sibling Day! What should we do to celebrate?”

My weary heart swelled. Because despite the bickering, the cabin fever, and the imperfect week, my daughter instinctively knew something important: her siblings were worth celebrating.

The blessing of siblings has never been lost on me. I was born the youngest of six—and by a lot. When I was ten, my oldest three siblings got married and began families of their own. By twelve, I was an aunt. Over the last twenty-six years, our family has welcomed thirty-seven new souls. Big families are what we do, it’s a culture for us – there is always room for one more.

My upbringing looked different than most of my friends’. My place in the family gave me a front-row seat to the formation of marriages, the welcoming of babies, and the slow, holy work of building lives together. I watched vocations lived out in real time – I’m so grateful for that.

My mom always dreamed of a big family. She was an only child—not by choice, but by circumstance—and she hated it. She longed for siblings and remained very close to her cousins who helped fill that void. She used to say that the greatest gift you can give your children is the gift of a sibling.

I always knew that was true—maybe because I admired my siblings so much, or maybe because I witnessed the fruit of their lives as they leaned into their vocations. But I didn’t understand the full weight of her words until her final days.

In those last weeks, when pain and discomfort surrounded her, she sat in quiet joy watching us serve her in our own unique and distinct ways. Each of us came with different gifts, different instincts, different ways of loving her well. She knew exactly who to call for what she needed—because she knew what our strengths were. We fell into our roles almost effortlessly, in a way that felt bigger than us. There was no discussion. No delegation. Just love responding to need.

In her final hours, we sat around her with my Dad. We prayed. We made coffee runs and reminded one another to eat. We laughed. We cried. We held each other up. Even when she took her final breath, we were delighting in each other’s company, being too loud of the oncology ward – I’m sure that made her smile.

Scripture says, “How good and pleasant it is when brothers dwell together in unity.” (Psalm 133:1) It doesn’t say it’s always easy. It says it’s good – and holy.

Research tells us that sibling relationships are often the longest relationships of our lives—formed early, tested often, and lasting well beyond childhood. Siblings teach us empathy, conflict, forgiveness, and how to love someone who mirrors us a little too closely. Parents can guide, but siblings shape us in ways no one else can.

Mom was right.

There is no greater gift you can give your children than the gift of a sibling.

A friend for life.
A mirror.
A living memoir.

Yes, there will be quarrels. You’ll disagree. You may drift apart for seasons. But the bond of siblings is powerful. It’s forged in shared memory, refined through hardship, and strengthened—if we allow it—by love.

Like I tell my kids,
“Never forget – one day, when your dad and I are gone, you’ll have each other – so don’t forget to love each other now.”

Siblings – a gift meant to last a lifetime.