Our younger son, Neil, is a trained, experienced farrier and last Saturday he had an altercation with a horse while shoeing, and as they always say, “It could have been worse.” Neil came out on the short end of the deal when the horse got him with a front foot and broke both of Neil’s lower leg bones and his ankle. His wife is a pediatrician and they have five children, ranging in age from 13 down to 9 months old. They needed help so they called Mom.

The last time I went to see them in Ann Arbor, Mich., I flew. Since it’s early fall, and for various other reasons, I elected to drive the 1,200 miles. For the most part, I was on I-90, right through South Dakota, Minnesota, Illinois and Indiana. It looked easy on the map. The first day I drove 750 miles, as I knew the second day I would be driving by Chicago and expected it might be slower. It was. Then the toll roads began, many of them. I know now that there are better routes to travel but when you look at a map and set the GPS, I figured it would not be prudent for me to try and change in the heat of battle because I had to arrive by Tuesday night.

I had left home early Monday morning. When I filled with gas the first time, the vehicle only took 18 gallons. Odd, I thought, as the gas gauge showed the level was quite low. With a full tank, I motored on. The gauge didn’t move much then, all of a sudden, the readout said I had 78 miles left on that tank. I filled and this time it took 15 gallons. Then I was sure I had a problem. I thought I would work around it by watching the readout that shows how much gas is left in the tank; that seemed like a simple solution. As I watched those numbers I saw that they were going up instead of descending, so that was not helpful.

I filled before I started by Chicago and again when I got into Michigan, just to be sure I would not run out. Fortunately the dealership is nearby and I’ll get it fixed this week.

Neil will have surgery next week, and I’ll be staying around to help. It’s been a long time since this grandma had to lug around a heavy baby girl and be vigilant about everything she puts in her mouth. This is the same tiny baby that I cared for in January. Add the almost-3-year-old, and it is quite the challenge. I always remember why God gives babies to young people. Cris takes the three older ones to school each morning. Since the wreck, a neighbor boy and another mom are transporting them home in the afternoons.

It is all a matter of learning new schedules, habits and food preferences. Tomorrow I’ll make ham and bean soup and blueberry muffins. They assure me they will love them. ❖