On Grace: A lesson on sisterhood
Many people who find our work learn, sooner or later, that the brand was created for Ema — my younger sister. Ema is cognitively disabled, nonverbal, and one of the brightest lights in my life. She requires full-time care, and for as long as I can remember, our lives have been intertwined.
I don’t know what life would look like without her.
Every piece, every story, every bit of what we build here at Tehina & Co. is a reflection of her — not just her spirit, but the lessons she’s quietly taught me along the way.
And if there’s one thing Ema continues to teach me, it’s the concept of grace.
Not the polished kind — not the kind you see in movies or hear about in sermons — but something quieter. Something rooted in presence, patience, and deep acceptance. Ema’s diagnosis has shaped the rhythm of our home in many ways, both good and bad.
I won’t pretend it’s always easy. There are hard days. There are times when the weight of responsibility feels overwhelming. But beneath all of it, there is this quiet clarity — a sense of purpose that’s difficult to explain, but impossible to ignore.
Most people think of grace as something divine. And I do too. But Ema has shown me another side of it — one that exists in small, ordinary moments. Grace doesn’t always come dressed as strength or resilience. Sometimes it’s simply learning to stay. To stop measuring worth by progress or potential. To accept someone entirely in the now.
Although I am a business owner and content creator, I am an older sister first. And I will not lie about my fears for Ema’s future. There will be a point where her development plateaus. It’s not a sad truth — it’s just reality.
But within that reality, I’ve learned to love more deeply. Not with conditions or hopeful projections, but with presence. With total, uncomplicated acceptance.
That way of seeing her — not as someone to “fix” or “improve,” but simply to honor — has quietly shaped how I move through the world. It’s influenced the way I create. The way I relate. The way I work. Even if you don’t see Ema’s face in what we make, her presence is felt in every detail.
Grace, as I’ve come to know it, doesn’t chase transformation. It invites stillness. It lives in routines, in eye contact, in laughter, in showing up for someone again and again with open hands and no agenda.
Grace is accepting someone for where they are, not where they’ll go.
And that’s the most enduring thing she’s given me: the ability to love someone just as they are.
Sisterhood — true sisterhood — is built on grace. To be a sister is to love your siblings for exactly where they are, not where they’ll go. It doesn’t search for milestones, accomplishments or progress. It’s about presence. About staying. And about knowing that more often than not, the most powerful thing we can do for the people we love, is simply let them be.
Because that will always be enough.