"But Most of All …"

No longer do I call you slaves, for the slave does not know what his master is doing; but I have called you friends, for all things that I have heard from My Father I have made known to you. 

John 15:15

I don't handle middle of the night wake-me-up phone calls well.  It pretty much originates with the midnight call that woke me up only to hear my daughter had been stabbed.

Last night, I had one of those phone calls.

It was my mom's nursing home.

When I saw that on the caller ID, I felt it wasn't going to be a good thing.

My heart began to race.

The voice on the other end of the phone seemed so dispassionate.

"This is The Waters of Duneland" nursing home.

"My name is (I have to be honest and tell you I barely heard or remembered it.)

"This is about Marilyn Hansen.

(I began to breathe heavier.)

"This is to let you know that at 4:40 this morning …."

I cannot tell you how many different feelings were running through my veins at this point.  I was certain what the next few words were going to bring.

"we found Marilyn on the floor.  She had gotten up to try to use her walker to get the bathroom."

I was certain she was telling me that my mom had died. My heart began to pound.

"She was found sitting down. She has a quarter size bruise."

Has!!  She is saying "has"!  That must mean she is still alive!

"She says she is hurting some but that is expected after a fall.  We needed to call you to let you know."

And she hung up.

My first reaction?  I wanted to tell someone.  

If my husband were alive, I know he'd have woken with the phone and heard my side of the call - and I could collapse with tears and happiness into his arms.  My heart was still pounding and I could literally feel the adrenaline rush - the adrenaline rush that is bad for my heart issues.

I thought of calling my sister, my son, somebody … anybody … I needed to talk.  I *had* to talk about it to get it out of my own system.

But at this time?  No, I didn't want to wake them and worry them the same way.

So I sat.  And I did my deep breathing.  And I thought.

Wait a minute.  What was my post only a few days ago?

Pray.

But this time I didn't really pray.

I only talked.  I told God how scared I was.  How horrible it had been to hear the first part of that phone call.  The relief after.  But the heart issues didn't go away. They remain this morning.  And this morning, I continue to talk to God.

It's talking the same way I'd talk to my Steve if he were still here.  I'm telling Him all my fears, how it felt, how scared I was, and how scared I still am.  A phone call saying my mom is gone might be inevitable.  So - I talk.

I don't always remember this.  I don't always remember I can just talk to Him.

With my husband gone, my best friend is gone as well.  The one I always talk to.  

There is a song - one that I am somehow going to incorporate onto my husband's yet-to-be picked out headstone.

I am realizing that I have still have a "best friend," and that the words to the song fit perfectly for Him as well. 

"You're My Best Friend" by Don Williams.  (Video link here.)

Lyrics:

You placed gold on my finger
You brought love like I've never known
You gave life to our children
And to me, a reason to go on.

You're my bread when I'm hungry
You're my shelter from troubled winds
You're my anchor in life's ocean
But most of all, you're my best friend

When I need hope and inspiration
You're always strong when I'm tired and weak
I could search this whole world over
You'd still be everything that I need.

You're my bread when I'm hungry
You're my shelter from troubled winds
You're my anchor in life's ocean
But most of all, you're my best friend

You're my bread when I'm hungry
You're my shelter from troubled winds
You're my anchor in life's ocean
But most of all, you're my best friend.

Amen.

 © deni weber 2010-2015