It was my turn to drive

I was born on my daddy's 24th birthday. Back before the days of ultrasounds & pink baby showers, before dads were allowed in the delivery rooms, I'm told he anxiously awaited my arrival with his ear to the door. When he returned to that family filled room, he didn't say a word but was smiling like the Cheshire Cat, enjoying the momentary secret about the pinkness that had just entered the world. I have from that day, and will always be, my daddy's little girl. 
For months this fall, I enjoyed an evening ride home from gma's with him & Buster the wonder dog. Following gma's journey Home, there was a large adjustment period as those rides quickly ceased. So how then would it escape me that tonight would be the beginning of another journey in which I would drive him home for the first time?
It's no secret that Gma P isn't doing well. The long term steriod use for a rare type of pneumonia has caused some neuropathy in her spinal column. Neuropathy we prayed would be alleviated by a procedure two weeks ago. But that just isn't the case. Fortifying one vertebra meant compromising those surrounding it. And here we are, two weeks later, in the same amount of pain, in a different location. An emergency MRI was ordered this afternoon.
Because of the events of the day, it would be necessary for someone to stay the night with Gma P. Momma. But that meant daddy would need a ride home. As I drove the 8 miles to her house, flashbacks of this fall filled my mind & flooded my eyes. Here we are again.
There are still many unknowns with Gma P's future but one thing we do know is that we are quickly approaching the point that she cannot live alone anymore. Moving her means moving life itself. The house she's lived in her entire adult life was lovingly & painstakingly built by Gma P, Gpa P & her dad. Each floor board & attic beam was hand chosen. This is not just a house that she's lived in but literally a home that she built.
As I drove home tonight, with daddy & Buster the wonder dog in the passenger seat of my car, I relished the time we were again having alone together. Only this time it would be different. It was his mom. They were his thoughts we processed and my fears he listened to this time.
I don't know what the future holds for us but I do know that this time it will be my daddy that needs me. I've never known that feeling before. He's always been my hero. He's always been invincible. He's always been my rock. How can I ever be his?
By doing what I've always done.
A friend of mine started my day with a text send by God himself through her. It was a picture of our lesson notes from the bible study we attend together. - "The most commonplace activities - if done for Christ through the Holy Spirit - are of eternal significance. Every thought, all your prayer, the smallest of acts, though imperfect, become as fine linen that adorns you as Christ's eternal bride."
By loving Jesus enough to sacrifice the things I want, the time I don't have, the gas to drive home so that I can do those commonplace things for Gma P & daddy means that I can be one of his rocks. Because it's in the commonplace things that eternal significance is made.