Graham filled his bottle with coins. The final coin went in on a rainy Tuesday morning. Not regular rain. We were under a flash flood. He said the coins were for babies. We went to the bank to change it to bills. Graham was worried the babies would eat the coins and choke. While suppressing laughter, I agreed that babies shouldn’t have coins.
$18. Graham collected $18.17 for our community-funded pregnancy center. Since the rain was coming down in sheets, we parked right at the door and I ran in the bank envelope. I passed off his baton to a worker. A woman who counsels women and men who just saw those double lines and have no idea what they should do.
Graham was laughing the entire time. “Money for babies! And it’s waining so much!” We don’t often need to run the rear wiper. Bess and Graham were delighted that both wipers were on the fastest speed. Slightly squeaky. Eliciting giggles from both the middle and back rows of our minivan. Adelaide was napping after a long day at school. Combined speech and occupational therapy. I was elated. $18.
We saw a young, pregnant woman walking in. “Will my money help her baby?” “I’m not sure. She could be coming here for help. Or she could be a volunteer who comes to help other people.” “Her baby in her belly is so teensy weensy. I hope she isn’t scared when they cut it out or it comes out her mom hole. You said not all babies get cutted out from c-sections, like us. You said babies can come out a special mom hole, too. Let’s ask her which.”
And then that downpour was a Godsend. My excuse for not calling out to a stranger with a kindergartner’s question.
I prayed for that young mom. She was either needing answers, or she was helping someone find them. But pretty soon, her baby would be here. And Graham was right. Prayers for a safe, peace-filled delivery are always a good idea.
And 6 years from now, her child could be thanking those workers for helping in this deluge. Or that child could be following in Mommy’s footsteps to help others. Or both. I don’t know her life. I just know that she didn’t have an umbrella either. And the rain fell on both of us. Soaking those bills and her hair.
“Mama, you gotta ask her about her mom hole.” “Should we go get some French fries?” “That’s a gweat idea! I love Fwench fwies in da wain. We can ask her later. $18 is 1 ten and 8 units. I gotta tell Daddy. He will be so uh-cited.” Yes. Yes, he will be.