Sometimes grief and snort-inducing hilarity collide.

No doubt it comes as a measure of His grace. With laughter waiting to reward us for our courage as we face the unimaginable.

This is one of those moments, happening not long after the sudden Homegoing of my Daddy.

Hugely pregnant and ever-so-swollen, I was allowed only to deal with the aftermath of his loss to the extent it didn’t stress out my poor Mom.

The assignment? Return phone calls from the safety of her living room wingback, which may have seemed easy enough until I called the organ donation folks.

Now I blame the hormones, the heat and my two younger siblings who were distracting me with their own snort-fest when I said the worst thing you could say to an organ donation organization, “I’m sorry. I get the impression you are wanting to speak with the organ donor.”

Uhhhhh…

Cue deafening silence on the other end of the phone and ridiculous giggling on the part of my siblings, which meant I started snorting and then it was over. The swollen lady had sung. And apparently my Daddy who never had boo to say on earth was now speaking beyond the grave.

Just even when, y’all.

From my heart to yours, snort as much as possible because tears don’t often let you choose.

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