Archives for May 2020

What does a day in the life of a pregnancy services center look like right now? We all know that every day things are changing. For good or bad the sun continues to rise each morning and continues to set each evening. What is constant if not the sun? And deeper than that is the desire to live, to breathe and be vital. And how can these needs be met in times like these? Lovingly, creatively and without pause.

Each morning the lights come on and the first order of business is cleaning. Music on, gloves on, and armed with Clorox we walk from room to room, door to door wiping down desks, counters, sinks, light switches, doorknobs, chairs, keyboards, phones and finally the coffee pot! Floors are swept while joe brews. Computers are turned on and the door is unlocked ready to welcome those in need.

The first family comes in. Mom cradling a sleeping little girl while her other two children cling to her pant legs. She stands within the blue square on the floor as asked while I look up her profile. Diapers size 2, 3, and 5. Blessed with wipies I can hand out two packs to her grateful smile. Cereal and fruit? Yes! Now for some clothes. Explaining that our boutique is temporarily closed I pick out 3 or 4 summer outfits for each of her children and fold carefully into waiting bags. Big brown eyes smile at me from behind mom’s leg as I offer little blue teddy bears that were just donated.

Another knock on the door and a masked head pokes in. Upon seeing the woman and her family the new client waits without to help us maintain the social distancing. I finish up with this young mom and she leaves inviting the other family inside and the process starts again.

Another woman comes into the center uncertainty etched on her young face. She’s hoping for a pregnancy test. She has missed her period and is just feeling off. Can we help? Her boyfriend is waiting in the car. The nurse takes her temperature and gives her a mask to wear in the consultation room. She sits down with the nurse. She’s not sure when her last cycle was but feels sure she’s pregnant. The nurse helps her with a urinary test and gives her the news. They sit together for a long while talking.

Families come and go. Several women come in alone asking for formula and one is hoping for a stroller. We all stand apart from one another smiling in hopes the welcome is felt. I help a happy father carry out a high chair and a nice exersaucer, his smile of thanks warm and genuine.

The doors and counters are wiped down again and again. Several calls asking if we are open or closed because of the virus.

The nurse finally comes out with the young girl and I am asked to set up an ultrasound 2 weeks from now. The smile is hesitant and wavering. And after she leaves the small Next Step team sit down in a larger circle to separate and pray. The young girl is happy to be with child but young and unsure. She thinks her boyfriend will be happy but what if he isn’t? So we pray. For peace and comfort for the girl and for the health of her and her unborn baby and we pray we’ll see her in two weeks for her ultrasound.

In the back we are gloved up and donation bags are unpacked and soft little onsies are sorted into piles by size. Warm sleepers are stored in winter boxes and colorful summer dresses are hung up. More coffee is made as envelopes are stickered ready for mailing. Thank you cards are written and plans are made.

The day starts to wane and we do final wipe downs of the office. We close the doors and say our goodbyes. A lot of families were helped today. A lot of smiles were seen. I feel good about our day. It was a good one despite the ever changing landscape outside. We’ll do it all again tomorrow and feel blessed at what our ministry brings to the community and to our own lives.

My Mom

When I was roughly 10 years old one of the neighborhood moms called to me from her driveway as I meandered up and down the cracked sidewalk in front of our house in Kent. I was uncharacteristically on my own that day rather than trailing my older brother around or stealing off into the woods with the other neighborhood kids as was a typical afternoon for me.

I reluctantly stopped and leaned on my old red bike at the foot of her drive. I did not care for her. For some unexplainable reason she had always made me feel anxious and wary. She had three kids. One was a boy a little older then myself and the other two were girls a bit younger than I. We played together on occasion coming together naturally as neighborhood kids do on those long Summer days when everyone is outside until the street lights come on (mind you this was the 80s). Though I cannot say we were friends. Just kids in the same proximity and both with the same need for someone else to make the game or make-believe venture more fun.

That day though I was alone and stood warily waiting to see what – we’ll call her Mrs. Gunn – wanted. What she said was this, “Hey you. You aren’t allowed over here anymore. I’ve had three kids come to me to tell me you are using the “Eff” word. That’s despicable.” She snarled these words at me and waved me away like a fly. I remember standing stiff with shock and being annoyed that my lower lip was trembling a bit.

What? The “Eff” word? That was the biggie. I knew what it was because I’d heard my father often uttering a colorful string of words that included this one in the driveway under the car or in his shop. But I had never SAID it out loud! God would have heard me! In fact I was a rather quiet kid (at that time…) who said very little let alone the “Eff” word!

I remember finally getting back on my bike and peddling quickly away from Mrs. Gunn her wild eyed face still vivid. I tossed my bike on our driveway and galloped inside my house. My mother was in the kitchen and I went straight to her. It was then that those hot tears seeped out of my eyes and down my cheeks. I hiccupped my way through the terrible scene with Mrs. Gunn assuring her I’d never in a million billion millennia said THAT word and my mother listened with her arm around me. Now my mother was a quiet woman. Always around. Comfortable and soft. She had green eyes and curly hair. She colored with me a lot and her pages always looked so beautiful and brilliant.

After I finished telling her what had happened she patted my arm and walked to the phone hanging on the wall in the kitchen. I watched as she dialed a number and then delivered what I still remember to this day as the most awesome verbal takedown of anyone ever. Mrs. Gunn didn’t know who she was messing with. That was it. I have no idea what Mrs. Gunn said back but I know what my mom said. And her ferocity was a sight to behold.

Mrs. Gunn never said a word to me again after that day and in fact neither did her children much. I was content. Riding my red bike, playing with the other kids, and reading my books. And life moved on. But thirty-four years later I still remember how my mom had my back.

May is the month celebrating mothers. Those beautiful and gritty beings who at once are gentle and constant but also fierce and protective. Mothers will sacrifice their very selves for their children if they need to. There is nothing like the love of a mom.