The telephone woke us. It was 1:15 a.m. Our oldest son was on the other end. “We need you to come pick us up. We hit ice and wrecked your truck. It’s not drivable.” My heart stopped. Relieved he and his wife were ok, I sent up a prayer of thanks. I jumped out of bed and gathered flashlights as my husband donned his coveralls, Carhart, hat and gloves. It was 31 degrees, a warm night for January in South Dakota. I sent up another prayer of thanks. Then I settled into my routine of pacing and praying. It’s what I do when I’m concerned and can’t do anything to help a situation. The phone rang again. It was my daughter-in-law. “I just need someone to talk to while Jeff is outside checking on the truck. I’ve never been in a wreck before. It is good we were on the bridge when we spun, otherwise we would have probably rolled.” I was so glad to hear her voice. So glad she was ok. She told me about what happened, then went on to tell me about her day. It had been her special day. Her Chr...
In Hot Pursuit of More & Less.... More of Him.... Less of Me.