This past weekend, I attended a beautiful celebration of life service for my sister’s father-in-law. It was the most wonderful celebration of life service I have ever attended, and most of the credit goes to my sister.

Throughout this week, I have heard stories about all she has done for her family to shield them from having to do the horrible things that are necessary after a loved one dies. She has demonstrated a strength and resilience that would wreck most and that elicits immense gratitude from all.

Before I left, I gave her a hug and reminded her that, despite her dislike of the nickname I gave to her years ago, it is a nickname that suits her.

I call her my bulldozer.

I have told my story before, but it bears repeating.

She saved my life.

While driving home on a Friday, contemplating another round of chemo scheduled for the following Monday, I broke down. I knew there was no way I could go through with it, and I had just decided to quit, knowing I would likely die, when my phone rang.

Had she called at any other time, I would have lied and said I was fine, the same lie I often told in an attempt to shield my family from the pain of my truth. But God had other plans, and he knew I needed the strength of my sister.

She called at my most vulnerable. I told her everything.

Without hesitation, she took over my care, making sure someone stayed with me during chemo weeks, got me to my appointments, fed me, and kept me company. She called work friends and church friends to organize food drop-offs and check-ins.

She got on a plane and took the first shift.

I didn’t miss treatment that Monday.

I survived.

My sister saved my life.

I have since referred to her as my bulldozer, a term of endearment that she does not like because she sees a bulldozer as an instrument of destruction, not of love.

My nephew, one who is always quick with the one-liners, came to my defense by telling her that a bulldozer is used for construction, not demolition. She is not a wrecking ball. (Thank you, Ryan!)

When I got home from her father-in-law’s celebration of life, I Googled “bulldozer.” The AI overview listed some of the common uses for a bulldozer:

• Earthmoving: Moving large amounts of soil, sand, and other materials.
• Clearing Land: Removing trees, stumps, and debris.
• Grading: Leveling surfaces for construction or landscaping.
• Road Building: Preparing the ground for road construction.
• Mining: Removing overburden to access mineral deposits.
• Demolition: Clearing wreckage after demolition.

The way I see it, a bulldozer clears the path so that something beautiful can be constructed.

In my case, I could not see past the pain of my present suffering. My sister had to take me by the hand and guide me through the muck and mire of sickness, which kept me trapped – no words to express my suffering, no ability to ask for help, no knowledge of what I even needed, no energy to eat, and no desire to keep on fighting.

She had to move the stumbling blocks stacked in the way of my survival. She moved heaven and earth for me. She cleared the path and prepared my next steps forward. She demolished all the obstacles in my way.

She bulldozed her way through the wreckage of my life so that I could live and thrive.

She saved my life.

What she did for me, she did for her mother-in-law, brothers-in-law, husband, and sons this past week.

I will never apologize for referring to her as my bulldozer, and I hope she reads this and finally embraces the nickname I have given her.

I hope and pray that I can give to others even a fraction of the strength she gives to those she loves.

Everyone should be so lucky to have a bulldozer like mine.

Bob the Builder’s catchphrase:

“Can we fix it?”

The other characters respond:

“Yes we can!”