Best. Husband. Ever.

Hubby called me from the airport this afternoon, and he asked me how I felt about not going to Texas until a funeral. He asked if I'd rather try to go now and see my aunt before she died. (At this time, we still don't know how much longer she has, and we are all praying for a miracle. Ask for everything, you know, because the worst that can happen is that God says no. Think back to last week's readings at Sunday Mass: they were all about persistance in prayer.)

So now Hubby and I are going to figure out how I can get to Texas to see my family, many of whom are gathering there. The drive, according to the great gods of Google Maps, is about 18 1/2 hours. I would take the girls with me, which means I won't be flying. (It's WAAAAY too expensive for the three of us, anyway, and I don't want the girls to have to stay behind.) I'm not sure when I'm going, and I'm not sure when my father is going, either. I suspect my grandmother will be headed there in the next couple of days, and I am pretty sure someone will be going with her so she doesn't have to fly alone on this trip. (Of course, all of this is conjecture at this point. I haven't spoken to my dad yet today.)

Anyway, thank you for your prayers for my family.

And, in case Hubby is reading this, thank you, Honey, for being the best husband since Saint Joseph. I love you.