For those who didn't hear my testimony in church Friday night:

They took my son to the emergency room Thursday night with a violent allergic reaction to something (we don't yet know what- he eats EVERYTHING). When I got there, he looked horrible, all swollen with hives and looking like a raisin, yet all who were present agreed that he was 200x worse when originally admitted. I started thanking the Lord for all the blessings He'd given us and how He keeps us. For health in my body. For strength in my mind. For our marriage. For the miracle baby. For salvation. For a good paying gummint job. :-) For being happy with wherever I am. For taking two minutes out to play with my son at lunch that day when I dropped off the milk that day. Ok, it was more like 50 minutes (he really milked me!).

You know, I felt so torn about playing with him at lunch that day because I had a lot of work to do, and I'm on a special trip... they're paying me to work... not play. My staying to play at lunch resulted in staying late at work, which resulted in not being there at dinner when they whisked him off to the emergency room. As I drove to the hospital, I remember thinking to myself- if he dies (yes, I know this is typical mother overreacting but that's what I thought), at least I won't feel guilty about not playing with him. Those occasional moments I'd spent with him this week instead of working seemed more important than the job (and in case my bosses are reading this, yes, I put in all my time and then some to make up for it... :-))

It kind of reminds me of how I felt when my grandma died. Less than two weeks prior to her passing, I had the urge to call her. I argued with myself about calling her b/c I didn't have time and didn't really know what to say, but was also fighting the sinking feeling that she wasn't going to be around much longer. I originally decided to call her back at some unspecified "later." After all, it was Grandpa who was not doing well. Grandma was just fine. But I felt the gentle nudging of the Spirit, and actually called her that night. We had a wonderful conversation in which she related how proud she was of my missions work. When she passed, I was shocked. And glad I had called her.

You know, we shouldn't wait until our loved ones come close to death (or actually die) to express our love. I'm not the greatest about showing people I love them, but I certainly will try. Hope you will too.