Another Tug on My Heartstrings

For weeks, I have been longing to go to the Twin Cities for the day. We used to go at least once a month, just for fun, visiting a combination of two or three our favorite stops, like Trader Joe's, Costco, Lego Land, Groth Music, the Science Museum, the Children's Museum, the Minneapolis Institute of Arts, and Krispy Kreme, before they shut down every donut shop within 300 miles of Mitchie.


Monday morning's visit won't be just for the fun of it, however. My Uncle Skip, my dad's little brother, is staying in the hospital after suffering a massive heart attack this past Friday night. Our families have not been close for many years, but he has always had a special place in my heart for as long as I can remember. When I was little, he teamed up with Santa at Christmas times to make the holidays extra real for me. One of my most cherished hardcovers, Where the Sidewalk Ends, bears an autograph even more valuable to me than if Shel Silverstein had signed the book himself: Merry Christmas Missy, 1983. Love, Santa and Uncle Skip. My dad and Uncle Skip were business partners at the gas station for many years, following in the footsteps of their father. Because our families rarely see each other, I feel the need to give him a hug, tell him I love him, and remind him to hold fast to that strong, tenacious Fluegge spirit. Whenever we do cross paths at family functions, I look forward to his sparkling eyes and strong, familiar embrace.


I believe he is going to be okay. I don't believe in anything unless I feel *really* feel it in my heart. But I appreciate your prayers for God to heal his heart and I know his family would, too.