Most stories begin at the beginning.  This one will start somewhere in the middle.  Let me give you a little background.  On April 30th, 2013, I received a call which has changed my life.

I don’t often remember details, especially times, and I guess the time may not matter to you because it doesn’t change the story, but everything about April 30th is important to me.  Our class at preschool has playground time at 9:30;  it was raining that day, or at least messy enough so, rather than go outside, we were playing in the Fellowship Hall.  The kids had just begun riding plasma cars on our “track” when my phone rang.

And here is the middle of the story.  The only indication of anything momentous was the number was unrecognized by my phone.  Now, I generally do not answer unrecognized calls and definitely not at work, but I did this time.  It was a highway patrol officer.

Immediately, I knew something bad had happened to Joe and my heart began beating as fast as a hummingbird’s wings.  Joe was my husband and we’d been married 22 years.  The officer asked me to sit down, and like a movie where you know what’s coming, I asked the question I imagine most of us would ask; “Is Joe ok?”  He told me Joe had a heart attack and was in good hands, on his way to the hospital.

I couldn’t process any other words he said.  Something about which hospital, and the address.  My co-worker Mary took the phone from me as I slumped over in disbelief, head down to my chest, curled in a ball on the chair.  Joe was on a one day business trip to Winston Salem, NC (about 1 1/2 hours away), and was due back later that day.  Mary wrote down the name and address of the hospital, and I ran inside to get my purse and my daughter Laurel who is 22 and works PT at the same preschool.

It seems impossible to me that I can’t remember what I said to her, or her reaction; and yet my world was trembling, on the verge of collapse, and so perhaps it is not so hard to understand why I have forgotten the words.  Clearly though, I remember her expression as I explained;  her bright brown eyes, so full of life and happiness changed in a heartbeat to eyes of a trapped animal, desperately seeking safety and a way out of sure doom.  Trying to be brave, just a few tears welled, but she would not allow them to fall.  We went to tell Penny, our director, and she immediately embraced us, and she led us in a prayer of petition to God.  Laurel and I had no sense that the next time we entered the preschool, our lives would be forever altered; we were simply thinking of the quickest way to get to Winston Salem, and figuring out who would pick up Jackson from school.