The Important Conversation

You have conversations. Some happen at work, some in your "other" life, with your family, friends, strangers. Some conversations get things done, some undo things, some are revelations, some are confusing, and some you can't even remember what you where talking about during the conversation. Out of all these conversations you have from day to day, can you remember your most important one? How about your top ten most important? Mine happened just recently.

I was trying to think of some conversations I would put up against this one as being more important - like the one I had with my College Dean when I wasn't going to graduate . . . yeah, that was important. Or several of the ones I've had with my family regarding our changing family dynamics and so forth. I think it's even more important than my conversation I had with my best friend from middle school when I told her we were moving. Yes, these were all very important conversations at the time, however, I believe this tops them all. The reason why it tops them is because it's not centered around me. All these important, tough conversations I can remember concern what will happen in my life. Although this particular conversation will change my life, it will change my perspective from, "How I can make the best of it for me?" to "How I can make it the best for someone else? Someone I haven't even met." Confusing yet? I guess you would like to hear the story.

It was Saturday night at 10:56 p.m. Being February 1st, it was of course freezing in my house. I can't stand to be cold, so my remedy, seeing as changing the thermostat is punishable by death, is to jump in a steaming hot bath and then get into bed as soon as possible. This was my plan at 10:56 p.m. on February 1st. I had just kicked off my shoes, picked out my pajamas, and headed for the bathroom when my cell phone buzzed. I paused. Who would be calling me at 11:00 at night? I turned back to my bedroom and listened for the buzzing again. I couldn't find it. I threw my p.j.'s on the bed and frantically began wading through the sea of clothes that more often than not covers my carpeted floor. Something about it being so late and the fact I couldn't seem to find the phone made me very panicked. Clothes started flying through the air and then back down into the depths. The buzzing continued. Where was that phone? It buzzed again and again and then it was silent. Oh great. Now I have to find the house phone, bring it up here, call my phone and continue the search. Gah!

There was no waiting till tomorrow to find the phone. It must have been an important call including a very important conversation for someone to call that late and to wait out all the rings till the voicemail message cut it off. So, I get the house phone, I search some more and, wouldn't you know it, there it is - hidden beneath the down comforter of my bed, not on the floor at all. It's Cortney. Cortney, my sister, had called me. Well then, there was no reason for such panic. I know exactly what she was calling about - to ask me to come to her church on Sunday for the new series. I could just call her tomorrow, but I'd probably forget, so I called her right back. What I heard was not the subject topic I was expecting. It went something like this:

"Hello"

"Hey, Cort. You rang?"

"Yeah, what are you up to?"

"Well, I was about to get in the bath and go to bed."

"Yeah, can you come over here?"

"Right now?"

"Yeah, I need to talk to you about something"

"Okay, Cortney, about what?"

"I just need to talk to you."

"What about?"

"I can't tell you over the phone, I need to sit down and talk to you."

"Did I do something?"

"No, I just want to talk."

"Okay, cause you're making it sound like I'm being called into an office or something. Is it about me?"

"Yeah, it's about you but it's about me too. Can you just come over?"

"Sure, I'll be there in a little while."

"And don't tell Mom, I don't want to involve her yet."

"Uh, okay."

YIKES. What did that mean? I put my shoes back on, threw on my coat and into the cold night I went. On the way, I was thinking several things. I thought of how I was just about to be warm. I was just about to put my p.j.'s on and turn out the lights so my room could turn into the darkest of caves. I was just about to sink into my pillow top mattress, pull my worn-in quilt and down comforter around me and I was just about to be peacefully asleep. However, here I am: in a cold car with my hands on a cold sterning wheel, listening to a protesting cold engine whine down the road. I was about to get out and walk across a cold, scary apartment complex parking lot and into a cold apartment. I was, in a word: uncomfortable. I had other thoughts as well to add to this uncomfortableness. "What could she want to talk to me about? Can I think of anything I have done really wrong in the past couple of months? Has she done something wrong and wants to talk to someone about it?" Of course it had to be something horrible, something serious, something terribly wrong. There was no room for doubt there. I had to start preparing myself for the worst. She would answer the door all red and watery eyed or she would look very stern and hesitant. She would no dobut try to lead into the harsh news and I would get those nervous butterflies. This is not going to be good. I pulled into the closest parking space I could find, first for safety, second for a quick entrance into the apartment. I took a deep breath (Gah, it's cold) and went to the door.

Cortney invited me in.

Cortney had a fire going.

Cortney's apartment was warm.

Cortney's expression was kind, excited even.

Cortney invited me to sit next to the fire.

Cortney moved to a box on top of the coffee table.

Cortney pulled out a plastic bag with three sticks in it.

Cortney told me I was going to be an Aunt.

Cortney, the baby and I sat next to the fire and had a very important

Conversation.