I found myself carrying someone else's bag this evening.
It wasn't while she was going to the bathroom or trying on clothes it was as she watched the flight nurses prepare her baby to be taken to Oklahoma city following a mid afternoon car wreak.
We ran this morning together, the route of an upcoming race.
Anxious to talk since we hadn't seen each other in over a week.
Got our problems out in open air, left them to the Lord, prayers for healing, change, courage.
We parted ways. My day mostly spent cleaning house, hers at work. Till a phone call.
The kind of calls you don't want.
The kind of calls that alter the rest of the day,
or the rest of your life.
I was torn, Cody went first, no concrete news and I hated to take the kids to emergency room chaos.
But by 5 I was on my way, kids in tow, to be with one of the best friends I've ever had.
To cry with her, to hug her, to just be there.
The first view was of Kasidy-
she was bet up. Cuts, dirt, swelling, bravery.
Next came Kerri-
she was mom, poised, with purpose, confused from an onslought of xrays and scans, beautiful in her green I heart Port Aransas shirt and jeans and blond hair, courageous.
Next was Azya-
swollen eye , cut ear, itty bitty body on a big bed, bathing suit still on, dependent.
The first words I heard were that Azya had a skull fracture and they are mediflighting her to OKC. Precautionary cause Duncan doesn't do head injuries.
Tears. Embraces. "It's gonna be ok"s
Family, friends, visitors, staff, calls, texts, vending machines.
Then I was given a purse to hold.
As I stood I realized it was Kerri's purse and I moved aside as they cleared the room for Azya to leave.
To carry another's bag is a privilege.
It means your in.
It means I trust you.
It means I need you.
It means you have a friend.
I handed it to her and walked with her out to the car. She, with her daughter and son in law headed north to the hospital. The rest of the story is yet to be known but we'll get through it.
Together.
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