Naomi Weisman is a Canadian-Australian and mother of three who loves to Ramble with her dog, cook for family and friends, and laugh whenever possible.
I feel like I could call myself something of an expert on sisterhood.
I have three sisters by birth, and I have friends who are so deeply woven into my life that “friend” feels like an understatement. They are sisters in every way that matters.
But beyond that, throughout my life, I have repeatedly found myself in situations where a woman I only marginally know listens or shares as though we’ve been friends for decades. There is an ease, an openness, a willingness to be real that can appear almost instantly between women.
That feeling is profound. It is as though they see in me something of value—something familiar, perhaps—that compels them to invest time, energy, and vulnerability in a way that goes far beyond polite conversation. It is a quiet recognition. A mutual understanding. An unspoken “I see you.”
And time and again, those moments have mattered.
When my parents died just 18 months apart, life felt unsteady in a way I had never known before. I was suddenly a single mom navigating grief, funerals, estates, and houses to empty—while still trying to be everything my children needed. The weight of responsibility was relentless.
It was in that season that my sisters—both born and chosen—stepped in without hesitation. They showed up with meals, with listening ears, with practical help, and with the kind of steady presence that doesn’t demand anything in return. They carried pieces of the load simply because they could, and because they loved me.
When the pandemic turned the world upside down, and we were all isolating in place, something extraordinary happened among the women in my life. Instead of drifting apart, we leaned in. We checked on each other. We laughed. We cried. We shared fears, frustrations, small victories, and small mercies. In a time defined by distance, I have never felt more connected or more blanketed in love. There was a sense of collective holding—of not letting one another fall through the cracks.
It was also during this time that Sole Sister Ramblers was born—out of a friendship that has lasted since high school. Five of us, who had grown up together, evolved together, and weathered decades of life side by side, found ourselves talking more, sharing more, and leaning on one another in new ways. What began as a simple connection during an isolating time grew into an idea: a space for women to feel seen, heard, supported, and understood.
None of us could have predicted what that small spark of friendship would become, but it was rooted in something very real—history, trust, laughter, shared language, and the deep knowing that only comes from walking through life together.
This is what sisterhood does.
It shows up when life unravels. It makes space when the world feels tight. It listens without trying to fix. It validates without judgment. It says, “You’re not too much,” and “You’re not alone,” and “I’ve got you,” sometimes without using words at all.
There is something uniquely powerful about the way women support one another. We hold stories. We remember details. We notice shifts in tone and energy. We ask the second question. We sit in discomfort. We are willing to witness each other’s mess and still stay.
Sisterhood is not always loud. Often, it is quiet, steady, and deeply rooted. It looks like a text that arrives at exactly the right moment. A walk when you can’t quite name what you’re feeling. A hand on your back when words would be too much. It looks like laughter in the middle of grief and strength borrowed when your own feels depleted.
And perhaps most importantly, sisterhood allows us to be fully ourselves. Not the polished version. Not the capable version. The real one. The tired one. The uncertain one. The hopeful one. The one who needs.
I have learned, over and over again, that women are not meant to do life alone. We are meant to walk beside one another, to witness one another, to carry and be carried in turn. In every stage of my life, it has been women who have steadied me, shaped me, challenged me, and loved me.
And it is my deepest hope that Sole Sister Ramblers offers at least a small measure of that same sisterhood to every woman who finds her way here. That in this community, you feel seen. That you feel welcomed. That you feel less alone. Whether you arrive with lifelong friendships already in place or in search of new connection, I hope you find warmth, understanding, laughter, and support within these virtual walls and in-person Rambles. Because every woman deserves to be held in community.
Sisterhood is not a luxury. It is not an extra. It is essential.
And I am endlessly grateful for every woman who has chosen to walk with me—whether for a season or for a lifetime.
READ MORE > Her Story, Rambler Cafe Blog
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