The Preacher's Kid

This evening Daughter and I were working in the kitchen. She was cleaning out the refrigerator, and I was up to my elbows in sausage, cheese, and bisquick as I made sausage balls for our upcoming open house.

My phone rang, and one of the saints informed me he was in the City emergency room with his wife. She had fallen and dislocated her shoulder. She told him to call me and tell me what was going on and tell me I didn't have to come. I was weighing the meaning of "you don't have to come." She didn't say "don't come." She said "don't have to come." Daughter heard the conversation and announced, "We're going."

So we went. I left her in the ER waiting room. I found the poor woman sedated and in pain. Two attempts to put her shoulder back in its socket had failed, and they were going to take her to the OR for a third attempt. She ordered me to make sure her husband ate. He informed me their former son-in-law, an M.D., had run out to get him something to eat. We all went up on the same elevator to pre-op, I had a prayer with her, and closed by praying that her daughters would forgive her, which got a chuckle. This couple has been moving to their daughter's where they have an in-law apartment since September. Things keep coming up to delay the move.

When we got to the waiting room, I called Daughter on her cell and told her to come up to the OR waiting room. This is a huge hospital, but Daughter knew exactly how to get to us. I think I drag her to the hospital too often. After the shoulder was back in place, the woman's daughter called. She talked to all of us. She told me she wasn't comfortable with her father driving home after dark. I told her I had wondered, but couldn't make that call. She said she'd be the bad guy, and I promised to follow through on her wishes. So, I informed the man I would be driving him home, and would take him back to the hospital at 10:30 tomorrow morning. He grinned, but didn't argue. I told him that us daughters of aging parents have to stick together. He thought that was amusing.

Daughter was wonderful and very patient. When we got home, I was getting ready to wrap her hair when the phone rang. It was the daughter of the suicide. She wanted to thank me for the book I had sent her, Good Grief. It had been very helpful, and she'd gone to the bookstore and bought out their supply so she could distribute them to others. She also explained that her father had wanted to have the other minister do the funeral because he had known them so long and in the happy days, when they were doing things together as a couple. I had finally decided that was the most logical explanation as to why they bypassed me. Daughter waited patiently through our conversation. When I got off the phone, I apologized to Daughter, who simply said, "It's okay, Mom, that's your job, and you do it well."

She's a wonderful Preacher's Kid, who always comes through when these things come up. Tonight I was very proud of her.