The Next Time

All of us should get our annual or biannual physicals each year.
Each year, we women go to the doctor who delivered our children.
It is part of our preventative medical care.
Whether a woman has children or not, an annual exam is vital to her health.

As I sat in the waiting room filling out the obligatory paperwork, I heard her.
A woman was in the nearby bathroom.
I knew without a doubt that she was pregnant.
I knew without a doubt that she was suffering from morning sickness.

I remember getting sick every morning for three months for each of my five children.
The only time I did not suffer from morning sickness was when miscarried a child.
I knew.
My heart went out to her.

I had to go to the desk to return my paperwork.
The woman came out of the bathroom.
I was surprised at how very young she looked.
She was the color of a gray sky before the rain.

She was young and she was alone.
She was dressed in old sweatpants and some sort of slippers were on her feet.
She walked up to the desk and stepped in front of me.
Do you have any crackers? She interrupted; I just got sick and I need to eat something.

My heart hurt for her.
There was no joy in her face.
There was fatigue and weariness.
I wanted to help her but I did not have any food with me.

The receptionist told the woman that she would be with her in one minute.
The young woman began to pace back and forth with her hand on her large belly.
The receptionist wheeled her chair around and asked a nurse behind her if she had crackers.
The woman continued to pace.

The nurse returned quickly with a pack of crackers in her hand.
She stepped out from behind the counter.
She found the woman who by this time had stopped pacing.
She was sitting with her head in her hands.

At that moment, my name was called.
I followed the nurse.
When I was ready to deliver my children, I saw each of the doctors.
That was expected so that when I went into labor, I knew the doctor on call.

After having my children, a wonderful nurse practitioner is available for annual checkups.
She and I are the same age.
We have talked about our children as they grew.
We have talked about life.

Of course, privacy is paramount.
However, the young woman in the waiting room was on my mind.
I mentioned what I witnessed to the nurse practitioner.
She seemed to know exactly who I meant.

She just seemed so young and so alone, I said not expecting any response.
The nurse practitioner had such a serious look on her face.
She is alone; she is twenty-four years old and this is her fifth child, she said.
My head was spinning with the thought.

I don’t know this woman’s story.
All that needed to be said was said.
I remembered the joy I experienced when I carried each of my children.
I was not alone; I had the love and support of my husband.

I realized that I witnessed the reality for many young women.
This child she was carrying and ready to deliver was going to be put up for adoption.
The child is innocent.
The child deserves life.

This young woman was giving her child life and for that I am grateful.
I am pro-life.
However, being pro-life encompasses so much more than the life of the baby.
Being pro-life means standing alongside the mother before, during, and after her child’s birth.

I told my husband about the young woman that night at dinner.
A look came over his face.
You should have taken her out to lunch, he said in no uncertain terms.
She probably needed a good meal, he continued.

I replayed the morning in my mind.
I remember when I was called back, I heard her voice in the hallway.
She must have been in another room on the maternity side of the office.
I heard her complaining; I heard her ask to lie down for a bit.

I gave my husband excuses.
She was in another room when I was called back. True!
She was still not feeling well and asked to lie down. True!
I did not see her when I left the office. True!

You should have taken her to lunch, he repeated.
I got my back up a bit.
I didn’t want to hear what I should have done for her.
Feeling compassion for her was enough.

I asked him the million dollar question.
Did you ever do that?
Did you ever randomly take someone out to lunch who needed a meal?
Yes, I did, he said; I knew I was not getting any more information out of him.

I thought about what my husband said as I cleaned up the kitchen.
Feeling compassion for her was fine but it was not enough.
Did I pray for her?
In all my thoughts and concern, I did not lift the young woman up in prayer.

I was challenged by my husband’s simple statement.
Compassion was necessary but it needs action.
The young woman was too sick to eat more than the pack of crackers.
But there is spiritual food; there is praying for her or with her.

There is coming alongside her with a smile and a word of encouragement.
There is telling her that you had morning sickness, too.
There is finding the common ground of motherhood despite the circumstances.
There is letting her know that at least in this moment, she is not alone.

The King will reply, “I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of Mine, you did for Me”…He will reply, “I tell you the truth, whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for Me.” (Matthew 25:40,45)

I missed my opportunity in the doctor’s office that day.
I let an opportunity to minister to someone in Jesus’ name pass by.
In this case, I do not get a do-over.
There is always the next time.

By God’s grace, I will not miss the next opportunity.