From tattoos to prayers in a phone call.

I was going to entertain you with a story about Chase and tattoos, but I received a phone call this evening that totally changed my train of thought. There is nothing that can make you stop dead in your tracks like the phone call that tells you a loved one that is sick.

I am very blessed to have both my grandmother and grandfather still alive. Not only are they healthy, happy, and spry, they are very active, which to me plays a major part in staying young. My grandfather will be 85 in less than a week, but he certainly doesn't act like an 85 year old. He could outrun someone 25 years younger than him w/o skipping a beat and keeps up with not only the grandkids, but the great-grandkids. I am the oldest granddaughter and laid claims to being the favorite many years ago. He is the one that calls my mom's work and when they ask who's calling, he tells them that "it's her Daddy." He is the one that walked me down the aisle at my wedding and I love this man dearly.

When you get *that* phone call you panic... or at least I do. My first thought is to jump on an airplane and get to my grandparents as soon as I can, but reality is I can't. I have a job, a family, responsibilities... we all know how that goes. So, I wait. I wait to hear exactly what's going on, and try not to listen to what other panicking people think they hear. I wait to know that he's going to be ok. I was told that he has had fluid build up around his heart and they are not sure why. They have drained almost half a gallon and he has assured my mother that he is fine. He even sent my grandmother home because she doesn't like him flirting with the pretty nurses... and Lord know he has to flirt with the pretty nurses. That has to be a sign of someone who is going to be ok.... right?

If you can spare a moment, please send a prayer his way. Perhaps tomorrow I'll get to tell a tale of tattoos and little boys, along with some good news from Mississippi.