I’m a biker. 

Risks are part of the deal. 
Sometimes we go down, like my friend Pam, this weekend. 

What do you do when you get that call?
You check Facebook endlessly, much to your mother’s confusion because she’s not “a facebooker” – her words.  

You call the others, not her husband. He’s busy in his own world.

You are sick with worry. 

You think to yourself, I should have gone on that ride today, too.

You absolutely lose your sense of humor. You snap at your children out of fear and frustration and one of them gets it on video. Because you are all about the real you share it publicly. 

You decide to cook because people gotta eat.
You mobilize the troops for a two-week food delivery schedule. 
You have never in your life done anything like this before. 
You blame it on your personal Acts of the Holy Spirit project for IF:Equip.
You shop for food like a maniac, power walking through the grocery store, throwing food into the cart while your 10-year old daughter tries to keep up. 
You make spur of the moment menu decisions which is never a good idea.
You make two trips because you are completely out of your mind with worry and, thus, forget many important food items like ricotta cheese for the lasagne. 
You bark orders to your mother and your mother-in-law. Cook this. Chop that. Here’s the recipe. Get moving. 
You dump water into the ricotta cheese, like an idiot, and throw the bowl across the kitchen. 
You storm out the door still wearing your apron, determined to make the damn lasagne because it freezes well. 
You know Pam doesn’t even like lasagne. 
You order your 10-year old to make the cheesy potatoes. Here’s the stuff. Make it happen, like Tim Gunn on Project Runway. 
You sound ridiculous and brittle, like a deranged drill sergeant. 

    And they cook, these wise women of God.
    And they obey, these wise daughters of mine.
    And they still love you in your time of need.  
    And she fights, in the hospital, this other woman of God. 
    Your friend. 
    And you wait. And you pray. 

    And you hug your family just a little bit longer today. 

    And your daughters say, it’s ok mommy, Pam will be ok. 
    And you believe them.