"I have a senior party at a professor's home in Winter Park. Can you meet me there?" Diego asked Rose. "The directions are complicated so meet me at the park."

Rose, knowing it was a dressy party, wore a beautiful red dress.

When she got to the park, Diego met her at her car. "Can I show you something first?" he asked. 

He led her to the park's gazebo which was covered with rose petals. Along the perimeter of the gazebo were photographs of Diego and Rose together. 

There was also a basin of water and a towel. 

After sharing with Rose why he admired her as a woman of God, he washed her feet. 

As he washed her feet, he told her that he wanted to serve her, to lay down his life for her, and to always point her to Jesus. 

"She should be out by now," I said to my husband. I wasn't worried; just noting that I was expecting to be in the recovery room with her by now. 

"Don't worry! Everything's fine," my husband reassured me. 

Only it wasn't fine. 

An hour passed. The simple surgery to remove her gall bladder was now past two hours. 

When the doctor came out and asked for me to sign a release to give blood, I felt panic rising in my heart. What was going on? You don't give blood during a simple surgery. Unless...

I began to pray. I found an empty spot and sang to Jesus and cried out to Him to keep my baby safe. Texts were made to my children, sister, and closest friends, begging them to pray. 

During that time, my daughter was bleeding out on the operating table. They had no idea why. They gave her one pint of blood and then another. Still she was bleeding out. They made plans to airlift her to another hospital, making calls to arrange for another surgeon. 

Not knowing any of this was going on, I just kept praying. My daughter Julianna arrived. Then, Jenny Rose arrived. We waited. We worried. We prayed. 

A transplant specialist, famous in central Florida, just happened to be free and decided to drive an hour to the hospital rather than have her airlifted so she could be kept stable. There was another consent to be signed. I still didn't know what was going on and I was scared. We all just kept praying and asking God to save our little girl. 

My sister was getting on her horse one day when she noticed weakness in one of her legs. She had to help the leg over to climb up. Later she noticed weakness in her hands on the same side. Her friend, a physical therapist suggested she go to the Emergency Room the next day. 

Meanwhile, I hurried off to homeschool co-op to teach my Economics and Human Anatomy classes. Between classes, my phone rang. It was my sister. She told me that she was in the E.R.

I asked why. 

She told me. 

I sat down stunned. My baby sister in the E.R. I worried about the possibility of a stroke. I didn't even think about a brain tumor. When she told me the news hours later after several tests, I felt like I had been sucker-punched. The world was spinning around and around. I couldn't quite find my footing, process, figure things out. 

Three weeks later, I was flying north to be with my sister as a surgeon removed a tumor from her brain. They didn't think it was cancerous, but the thought of surgery...on the brain..was a lot to handle emotionally. I was worried, afraid, fearful. All the things I'm not supposed to be. Where was my trust? When the doctor told me the surgery had gone as well as they had hoped and she was recovering, I burst into tears. How is it that I was so sure she would be okay, yet so afraid at the same time. Oh, dear.

As I processed the whole thing later, I realized that the hardest part was knowing how scary this was for my sister to go through. Her pain made me feel terribly sad. Isn't it always harder to see our loved ones suffer than to suffer ourselves.