His feet thumped across the lawn and pounded up the steps as I instinctively glanced at the time. 5:50 am. (We're early risers!) Why is he making such a racket? He's sure to wake Lisa.
A split second passed before Dauntless, our 12 year old, crashed through the front door on his race from Grandpa's place across the driveway, but I was ready. A half-second was all the time I needed to prepare a stern lecture on respecting Mommy by being quiet early in the morning.
But Dauntless didn't wait for me to draw a breath to begin.
"Daddy!" he gasped, a wild look in his eye, "Grandpa fell!"
He turned to race back, knowing I was hot on his heels. Yes, Dad had fallen, laying unconscious as I arrived – a heart attack – the nurse later explained.
Good Friday hadn't started out so good. And about 24 hours ago, I stroked my mother's hair, whispered into her ear that she was deeply loved, and kissed her cheek as she gasped for her final breaths, passing into eternity a few hours later.
And my truck slouches in the driveway with the flat tire our daughter got driving home a day and a half ago – haven't even looked at it.
Whether its the big or small stuff, for most of us, life comes fast and hard – I like to say ''' with the speed of a fighter jet and the chaos of a riot. Can you identify with that? In the morning, we get things headed in the right direction but before noon there are five left turns in the road ahead. What’s next, Lord?