Please be sure to visit the Gypsy Mama to play along!
This week's prompt is: Unexpected.
We were riding down the freeway, probably ten miles from home, when his phone chirped. Someone was texting him, which doesn't usually happen unless he's one place and I'm another. It was my sister. My heart held on...
The text was to pray for her son's Papa Jaimie, but what I heard coming from David's lips was "Papa Jimmy", which would be mine and my sister's daddy. I thought it weird that she would say "Papa Jimmy" instead of "daddy" or "Papa Jim", but OK, in a high-stress moment, who's thinking of usual protocol?
I heard "Jimmy" instead of "Jaimie", and the prayer request was that he had brain cancer and was in surgery and would we pray for him, please? Driving down the freeway, seventy miles an hour, and I melt down. Every ounce of me that loves my daddy just lost it, thinking that it was him in surgery for brain cancer. He'll be seventy years old in less than a month and he's in surgery for something so awful.
I couldn't see what I was driving into as I aimed for where the emergency shoulder is supposed to be, but I had to pull over.
David was telling me "Jaimie. I said Jaimie. I said Jaimie." as he realized what I was thinking. I couldn't stop crying, even though it was registering that it wasn't my daddy that was in surgery, but my nephew's other grandpa.
As the sobs were still keeping me in their grip, I was apologizing for being such a baby, for still crying even though I understood now that it wasn't my daddy. Mr. Jaime is still somebody's daddy. Please pray for his healing. Thank you.