don't know if she's still alive as I write this.

Never even heard

her name until last night. Had no idea who she

was, where she was from, what her life has been

like. But, yesterday, in a very small way, I

shared what she was going through.

Life. It's strange,

isn't it? The chords that tie total strangers

together can fall from nowhere to wind knots

never to be broken again.

It all started with

a dream I had night before last. I was in a motel

room with a sick friend and Lynda, my sister,

unexpectedly opened the door and walked in.

I awoke and could

not get the dream out of my mind.

put on the T. Graham Brown CD that I had recently

purchased. I had been saying I was going to buy

the CD for 12 years. Finally, a sense of urgency

had gripped me earlier this week. I searched

through Best Buy and Media Play until I found it.

Twelve years ago

while standing by my dying father's bedside for a

week at Tallahassee Memorial Hospital, my sister

and I heard that T. Graham Brown was in concert

in town. We fantasized about leaving the hospital

for just a few hours to go hear him. Of course we

never left Daddy's side, but there was something

about the fantasy that gave us relief. Go

figure...

Anyway, I buy the

CD this week. Finally. And yesterday I played it

over and over and over while thoughts of the

Tallahassee hospital and Lynda kept dancing in

and out of my mind.

By 4 p.m. my

anxiety level was almost through the roof. I knew

I wasn't dealing with some strange kind of

flashback. I had begun to fear for Lynda's

welfare.

I called her office

first. They just said she wasn't in. Between 4

p.m. and 10 p.m. I called her car phone about 12

times, and called another sister, a brother and

Lynda's husband more than once. Nobody I talked

to knew where she was. They did not even seem

concerned. All I could do was pray.

Shortly after 10

p.m. I became calm enough that I could lie down

on my bed and rest. Sleep was out of the

question, but I thought I could rest.

At 11:30 p.m. my

phone rang. Lynda was calling from her car. That

morning, she had insisted that a hotel clerk in

Bainbridge let her into the room of a friend and

business associate from out of town who had not

shown up at the office on time. She had

immediately taken the friend to a local hospital.

Doctors at that hospital had called for emergency

transport to Tallahassee Memorial Hospital where

her life hangs in the balance at this writing

because of a leaking aneurysm.

Why do I tell you

this story?

Because I can never

remind you often enough how short life can be.

Because we must always be open to the many ways

we (stranger and friend alike) are drawn to one

another. And we must, absolutely must, be willing

to bloom where we are planted. And you and I do

not always control (if ever) where we may be

planted and when we must bloom.

My sister has a

very demanding job and she had a thousand things

on her plate yesterday. None of it mattered.

Nothing mattered except getting help for a

friend. She could not even think of herself, her

work, or her own family, until her friend's

husband had arrived at the Florida hospital last

night. Then, and only then, could she walk away

from the situation.

And only then

(around 10 p.m.) was I able to become calm, lie

down and relax until she called. I knew she would

call as soon as she got word I had been trying to

reach her.

"Did you

listen to your messages? Who told you I've been

calling?" I asked.

"Nobody. I

just knew I had to call you the minute I got to

my phone. It's been locked in my car all day at

the hotel, or I would have called you earlier so

you could have been praying."

Like I had not been

all day...

Ah, yes, the ties

that bind. A Henry County woman on a business

trip to Bainbridge. My sister who tosses reason

to the wind when her little voice (I think it's

the same voice I listen to. Angels? The Holy

Spirit? ESP?) tells her something is wrong with

that woman. And I, totally uninformed, feeling

all the turmoil and anxiety of the day, wanting

to escape as I did 12 years ago, but praying

instead, while listening to T. Graham Brown in

the background.

Don't even try to

figure it out. I gave up years ago. Just bloom.

And pray..