For Legitimate Reasons

Careful planning and the honest approach can get you far‑-and also into trouble.  I learned this with the birth of my second son.

I had it all so clearly thought out.  My household goods‑-including the too tight wedding band stuffed in my drawer‑-would reach California in mid-July.  They would thus show up there ten days after we, the Browns, did.  And the baby would also arrive on schedule, early in August.  Therefore I'd have plenty of time to unpack its crib, bottles, diapers, and rubber ducks.  Very simple, right?  No, not the plan.  Me.  I believed it would happen.

Consequently I was appalled to discover, on July 23, that not only were the movers going to be two weeks late, but the baby was going to be two weeks early.  Even more horrified was my husband Johnny.  He'd learned, the hard way, that labor doesn't discomfort me until twenty minutes before birth.  In panic he dressed our three-year-old and bundled us off to the nearest hospital.

"I'll stay in the car with Rand," he promised.  "You get inside, quick!"

Now that rush wasn't necessary.  The white clad Sister I met in the lobby took me directly to the delivery room.  There were ten minutes to spare.

While Bob's birth presented no problems for either me or the nun, our conversation afterwards did.  Dazed, I answered all her questions, and equally dazed, she took down my replies.  No, I had no doctor‑-I'd come from New York only nine days earlier.  And yes, the baby's father (my ringless finger told her the word "husband" would be inappropriate) was named John Brown.  No, I didn't know where he was; the last I'd seen him he was driving off in a car.  He would certainly not be at work.  As for my address, I lived in a motel.

A benign and sorrowful glance came over the good Sister as she heard this last response.  "My poor child," she breathed, "you've sat alone in a motel for nine days?"

"Oh, I wasn't alone at night, Sister.  And during the day I had my other son with me."

"And you're taking your newborn back to this, er, motel?"  Plaintive at the thought, her tone faltered.

"Oh, no, Sister.  I was hoping the hospital would keep him, at least till the men come."

There was a long silence.  When at last the nun spoke again, her voice was very soft.  "We'll talk about all this later; you need to rest now.  I'll be praying for you, so try not to worry."

But when I awoke, I did worry.  Despite Johnny's assurance he had not only arranged for the baby's stay at the hospital but had found an apartment as well, I had a very immediate problem.  How was I going to face Sister Kathleen?  I confided my troubles to John.

"This is terrible, terrible.  She'll find out I'm an honest woman."

"Being honest is terrible?" Johnny echoed, confused.

"But Sister Kathleen will think I lied to her.  She'll think all her concern was wasted and that I'm not worth her prayers."

Johnny shook his head.  "Don't be silly," he smiled.  "Look, I'll explain it all for you.  Just leave it to me."

Sister came into my room the next morning.  "Did my husband speak to you?" I asked diffidently.

"Yes, Mrs. Brown.  And don't worry, I'll go right on praying for you."

I blinked my surprise.  "What did he say?" I inquired.

"Well, dear, after explaining the situation, he reminded me that the Lord takes care of fools and children.  And he suggested you might need all the prayers you could get."

And I do.  But then, don't we all?