Back when our daughter Aspen and her friend Kelly hung out, Aspen said, “6th gradeish.” There was a time when Joyce had to go to Scotland. Someone in her family was seriously ill, if I recall correctly.
About the time she was to travel home, there was a really bad storm in the UK.
Her normal route of travel was by train from Dundee to her sister Frances’ home in Luton near London and then fly to the States from London.
We had heard of the storm here at home on the news. Trains were delayed and sometimes rerouted due to fallen trees etc., some highways were even blocked.
All I knew was Joyce had left her sister’s in Dundee on a train but had not yet arrived at Frances’ home in Luton a distance of several hundred miles.
It was well past the time she should have arrived. I had no Idea where she was. This was before cell phones so there was no way for her to let us know where she was, or if she was OK.
Joyce eventually arrived in Luton, late, and frustrated but physically OK, and with some stories to tell.
During this time, Aspen, Kelly and I were having dinner at Al’s Drivein. Someone who knew Joyce was in the UK and knew of the storms, asked me how Joyce was doing.
I explained that I had no idea where she was, that she had left one place but hadn’t arrived at another and I was worried about her.
Young Kelly then said the words I have not forgotten: “Well I guess we better pray! Or words to that effect.
There may be times when your best advice may come from a sixth-grader.