The last three months I have lived two lives, taking turns with my twin Peter travelling in and out of Melbourne to support my sister, Sylvia Ellen Sandeman in Hospital, in what turned out to be her last battle.
We are a complicated family, one natural child, my big sister, and four adopted boys, Tony, David, Peter and John, in that order.
Tim Costello often told Peter and me that Sylvia was the best of the three Sandemans he knew,
Peter was running Angiicare and advocating for social justice, me with an experiment in Christian journalism called Eternity. Sylvia just being Sylvia – well isn’t it obvious who had to be the best.
Sylvia was the original and the best of the Sandeman siblings , being part of St Kilda Baptist when Tim arrived to pastor a church he was told nobody wanted to take on.
Sylvia was a stalwart there. I used to go Sunday nights when I was in Melbourne as a young editor of the Australian Union of Students’ paper.
You see, one church was never enough. There was St Kilda Baptist and Rosanna Baptist. And then there was South Yarra Baptist. And for a time, there had been Shepparton Baptist. Yes, Baptist churches only. She managed to be a powerhouse wherever she went. And very Baptist in just pitching in and doing things without a lot of permission seeking.
In a sermon Sylvia described how she was brought up to be a Martha, by a mother who taught her a high level of domestic responsibility. But in later life she grew into a Mary, seeking Jesus in all things.
But perhaps she was a Martha+Mary, combining both always rushing to be of practical help, out of a deep knowledge of her Saviour.
As the youngest of the family and she the oldest, I still wonder at the fact that I have never felt resentment at her being the natural child follwed by for adopted boys.
Sylvia was born in England in August 1941, to her mother Ethel Mary Sandeman. Her father, Colin James Sandeman, soon was away at war, and Mary and Colin were apart for five years.
“The day my father returned from war was a significant childhood memory,” Sylvia wrote for Rosanna Baptist. “I still have the picture in my head of him standing on the front door step.
“I also remember every time we increased our family and the coming of another boy who lived with us for 8 months while his mother was in prison.”
Yes, there was a way of increasing a family while Dad was away. There were evacuee boys, Ken and Reggie, and I think their mother, who lived with Mum and Sylvia during the war.
And afterwards, four boys came permanently into the family, Tony, David, Peter and I. It always impressed me that Sylvia never resented even the last two interlopers, with her taking on a lot of care for Peter especially while Mum looked after me.
Yes, my sister did not resent the blended family. But I think it was a bit rich that when she went to London to study radiography, the rest of the family migrated to Australia, dodging the White Australia policy for Peter and me.
For me Sylvia was the big sister, who showed me you could be bold, explore the world, be in community wherever you were, and dig deep in making the world a better place. And that change starts local.
She was a rebel against a narrow Christianity that was afraid of the world. That was a bubble I found it hard to break out of. Instead, well in advance of second wave feminism, she took on the challenge to be a strong independent Christian woman.
Over the next little while, The Other Cheek will farewell Syvia with some of her sermons.