these 24 hours.

It feels like yesterday could have either been a full week or the blink of an eye. It was lightening fast, but all the while felt like slow motion. I knew I would need to head to Arizona on either Sunday or Monday. I planned to spend the weekend tying up loose ends. Cleaning my house to perfection, making sure everything at work was as far ahead as possible, thoughtfully packing what I might need for the undetermined amount of time I would spend here. Here...

I went to lunch yesterday with my best friend, Leigh, because I knew I might not get to see her for a little while. And, also, I wanted to be able to tell her in person how serious the situation with Gramma was becoming because Leigh is more than my friend, she's my sister. She's been part of our family for 14 years. And I knew this would be hard for her as well, in her own way.

As we sat down to lunch at Panera, my mom called. She had been at work for an hour and was called home by my sister-in-law (who is, by the way, doing an absolutely incredible job. I could never have dreamed God would bless us so much with such a gentle, compassionate and wise woman to be part of our family). Mom called me on her way home and said, you need to think about flying out. My immediate thought was, "Finish lunch with Leigh. Tonight, get things in order. Fly out in the morning." But, it's a four hour flight. And morning just wouldn't do. Mom called back, "I booked your flight. You need leave for the airport in an hour."

I was speeding home to get things ready. I called my 'nother mother and said, "Ok. I've got to go. I don't know what to do...tell me what to do." My brain could hardly calculate how to get home, let alone how to put what I needed in a bag and get to the airport. As well as figure out how to pay my bills while I'm gone, cover my job while I'm gone, tell each person I had plans within the next couple of weeks that I would be away...

I flew into the driveway to pick her up, gave a quick hug to my adopted dad and followed calm instructions on what we would do next. As we sat down in the car, she pulled out a sheet of paper and began making a list of all I needed to do (a role-reversal indeed, as that is generally my M.O. with her!) All the while, I was choking back tears and controlling anxiety because I couldn't just throw everything in the car and drive to Gramma. No, 2200 miles cannot be navigated quickly enough.

I wish I had time to tell you about all the favor that followed me yesterday. From the scale at check-in for my flight which was mysteriously out of order (there's no way I could have paid for my obviously overweight bag). To the cash I was blessed with which bought me a smoothie before I boarded the plane (one of my favorite things in the world). To the fact that I was seated in the window seat (my preference) and the seat beside was empty (icing on the cake). And, to top it off, I was seated by about eight Veteran's Administration Nurses (my mom's exact vocation) on their way to a conference in San Diego (which my mom had just attended). Now tell me God doesn't see us!

The flight was easy and peaceful. I was reminded of looking out at the same brown, mountainous landscape as we flew in for my Grandfather's funeral in 2001 (his passing was more sudden, shocking). But that memory assured me that God had walked us through that. And He would walk us through this.

My favorite men picked me up in Phoenix (my dad, brother and nephew). And we laughed much of the ride home. Apparently the gentlemen who delivered our necessary items from Hospice was quite entertaining. As he entered the house through the sliding glass door, he left it wide open. My brother closed it behind him (duly noting that this, "idiot must not pay his own electric bill"). And, upon leaving, the man assumed the door was still open...

The grease-mark from his forehead is still on the door, but Jeff did put it back in the frame. The guy about knocked himself out, my mom and Lisa catching him before he hit the floor. And mom instructed him what to do because, clearly, he gained himself a concussion. Every, single family member thanked God I hadn't arrived yet. They managed not to laugh outloud in the man's face and, had I been here, that would certainly not have been a possibility.

As I arrived and walked into Gramma's room, things were quiet with the exception of her labored breathing. I took her hand and sat by the bed a while. Mom gently asked, "Momma, do you see who this is?" Her eyes scanned a bit - no response. "Momma, this is Amanda." Her hand abruptly squeezed mine, tight. That was enough for me.

This morning is a similar story. I sit in the living room with my nephews - one watching Sponge Bob and one hiccupping after his bottle and relaxing in his swing. God brought little Lance to us at just the right time. We've all taken turns just holding him, receiving the assurance that God's still in the business of creating even during such a difficult time of loss.

Though there's a definite heaviness in the house, there is also much laughter. We can't help it! We're all hilarious! And we're all thankful that God has us together for this time.

By the way, plane tickets to come here on such a last minute basis were $350 & up, one way. I choked as I searched for an alternative. But, no worries, Gramma had already budgeted in my flight with the other costs of this time. She can't say my name and she's still taking care of me...