24 hours

As I'm washing dishes the chime on my phone goes off alerting me to a text.  I grab it with wet hands expecting it to be F telling me he'll be late coming home.  Instead it's my friend. "The pediatrician says it's ******. I'm sort of freaking out. Should I be freaking out?"  Before answering I head to Google.  My heart sinks as I read and I too begin to worry.

The pediatrician promises to call my friend the next day with the results of blood work. I think to myself that she is really calling to tell her which fork in the road they will be taking: the one to health or the one to hospitals.  My stomach hurts and I can't take a full breath. I'm embarrassed by my physical response.  I know that whatever I'm feeling is nothing compared to what my friend is feeling. 

I don't sleep that night.  Instead I think about my friend.  We've known each other for almost 20 years.  We have prayed for one another and with one another.  She's held my hand while I was in labor. She's picked me up off the floor when I was too sad to stand. She knows me better than anyone. She is my sister-friend.  She is my heart. 

I think about her precious daughter.  She is wise beyond her years. She loves Jesus with a fierceness that both impresses and intimidates me. She is destined to grow up and change the world.  She has already changed mine.  When my G was a toddler and had a speech impediment she not only understood him, but would act as his translator when they were together.  She was 5.  When the babies were new and I was exhausted I would pass her Laurel.  She would hold the tiny swaddled bundle and whisper girly secrets in her ear. Laurel would gaze up at her perfectly content.  She never comes to visit me empty handed.  She brings me pictures she has colored, rainbow loom treasures, collages. I have them all in a drawer.  She is my heart.   

The next morning I circle the wagons.  I call the people in my life that I know will pray without ceasing.  We fall to our knees and beg for the healthy fork in the road.  Please, please, please...  

Every text makes my heart jump.  I find my eyes filling with tears at random times throughout the day.  I try not to bother my friend at work, but fail miserably.  Have you heard? How are you? Do you need me? I feel helpless.  I want to go to her.  I want to be with her when she gets the news. 

Finally we hear.  She is perfect.  She is healthy.  I burst into tears.  I am simultaneously relieved at all my friend is spared and devastated by what other mothers are forced to face. I have no words.