For God is working in you, giving you the desire to obey him and the power to do what pleases him. (Philippians 2:13)

"Why don't you stay here in case anyone calls?" Dad suggested as they headed out the door to make arrangements. I watched through the window as he walked down the sidewalk with his arm around my Grandmother.

"This can't be happening. He can't really be gone." That painfully raw reality rolled over and over through my mind. Just a few short hours earlier Granddaddy had a massive heart attack. I could do nothing but stare out the window and wait. Ironically, Granny's flowers looked especially vibrant on this early May afternoon. I stared at the place in the driveway where, unknowingly, I said goodbye to Granddaddy for the last time. It was just a week ago, on the night of my senior prom. We stopped by to see them on the way there. It was beginning to rain; I kissed him goodnight underneath an umbrella. Usually, he'd lean down and let me kiss his cheek. That night he kissed my cheek.

Having been lost in my thoughts, I was startled by the sound of the phone ringing. It was Mom. She was four hours away, in east Tennessee, for a "girls getaway" trip to the mountains. She knew that Granddaddy was sick and she was on her way home. Her brother, who was driving in from Charlotte had arranged to meet her so they could make the trip together. The moment I picked up the phone I realized that I hadn't planned on being the one who would talk to Mom.

"Well, how is he?" she asked.

I fell completely silent. She didn't know? What do I do? How can she know the truth and still endure this long trip home? By then, my silence had answered her question. What had I done?

It was a perfectly orchestrated plan of our Heavenly Father.
For the next hour, I sat silently in one chair staring at Granddaddy's chair across the room. When Dad and Granny got back home, I confessed to them what had happened. They were trying to spare her until she got home. I had ruined that.

For a long time, forgiving myself for such an irresponsible thing seemed impossible, until the day I talked to my Mom about it. She told me how comforting it was to be with her big brother when she got the news that day. It was nice to be able to cry with him. She told me of the conversations they had. She was able to tell him how Granddaddy had made Mother's Day dinner just the week before. They reminisced about how Granddaddy would slip each grandkid a $20 bill when Mom and Dad weren't looking; and he would take the kids out to lunch on his way in to work, even though it was 25 miles out of his way. She told how, just a week earlier, he had attended my senior play, Our Town, not once, but twice. He made a fuss over making sure to get really good pictures. (Later, we found a brand new camcorder underneath his bed that he had planned on giving my family on my high school graduation night.) On that long trip home, Mom and her brother held hands most of the way. How ironic it was that they should be together for those first hours after Granddaddy passed away.

Ironic ... no. In looking back, it was a perfectly orchestrated plan of our Heavenly Father ... even my mistake. My Grandmother had my Dad to help her with all of the arrangements. My uncle didn't have to make an eight-hour trip alone. And my Mom had her big brother's hand to hold when she needed it most. Everyone was right in place at just the right time.

It's been 14 years since Granddaddy passed. I wonder sometimes, when neat little unexpected things happen to our family, if it isn't him still making a fuss over us. One thing I know for sure: it was part of a perfectly orchestrated plan of our Heavenly Father ... who made sure everyone was right in place at just the right time.