It is the call you never want to receive. "Hello, is this Mrs. Finn? This is the Manitou Springs police department." My first thought, where is Andy? Second thought, he is out on his bike. Third thought, Oh shit. And then I hear, "He is okay, mam," as I am hyperventilating through the phone. After I found out what hospital he was being transported to, I ran out the front door. Probably not the best thing to do, when you have two small children scared to death. But, I ran to my neighbors, who graciously agreed to take my children. I just wanted to get to the hospital. I hugged my kids and said goodbye. And I headed to my driveway to make the two block trip to the hospital. As I was about to jump into my car, I stopped. Just a simple pause. And I felt my heart beating out of my chest. I remember the color of the sky. I remember thinking, I pray to God his head is okay. It felt like I was on drugs. Everything was so vivid. John O'Donohue, the late Irish poet, said that those calls change our lives. Everything changes after those phone calls. My heart was beating strongly; with every beat shouting, No matter what happens, you are safe. Andy is safe. You will make it through this. Then I hopped into the car and I headed to the hospital.

Andy is okay now. He is healing, with very serious road rash. Deep wounds on his elbows. Infection. And grateful. If I hadn't taken that moment right before jumping in the car, I wouldn't have heard that message of safety. I just wouldn't have. And I would have been a different person when I arrived at the hospital. I was still scared. Very scared, actually. But, I knew that I wasn't alone. And I was able to mirror that back to my husband, who arrived via ambulance on a board with a neck brace nd blood all over his body. As my eyes witnessed my vulnerable husband, I held onto, You are safe. What a gift my faith is. It gives me a whole different perspective on life; one of gratitude. And, it reminds me where my true security comes from.