Perspective

This was originally posted as a note on Facebook, on Wednesday, March 16, 2011.

Time to move my writing all to one place, huh?

It was a hard day, and frankly, the last place I wanted to be was at the grocery store with the whole family. I've had this cold/flu thing, and I just wanted to be back home in my jammies.

The kids had been restless all afternoon . . . cabin fever big time! Picking at each other, picking at me . . . driving me just a little nutso . . . so fighting the dinner-time mob at the store just wasn't where I wanted to be.

The baby had finally fallen asleep in his car seat--poor third child, not allowed to nap by the noisy older siblings--when we got to the checkout. My oldest started asking for everything she saw: "Can I have a princess doll? Can I have gum? Can I have a cookie? Can I, oh they have candy canIhavesomecandymommypleeeeease?" Well, 20 minutes before dinner I was not going to give in to treats.

So she starts crying, which really lifted my sinus headache to a whole other level.

I was just trying to keep it together so we could get out the door, when an older lady approached. She smiled sweetly at the kids, and just as I was about to offer her the older two (for free!), she asked softly,

"Oh, can I just take a peek?" and stopped to admire the baby.

"I think he's asleep." I said quietly. "Finally!"

She gave me a measuring look, as if she was looking straight into my heart, into my bad day, into my headache. She started to speak, paused and pursed her lips, then began:

"We, my husband and I, got our first child when she was 5 months old. We adopted her, you know," she looked fondly at my sleeping babe. "She was 11 months old when the papers were finalized."

She took another deep breath. "A few months later I had this flu I just couldn't shake," she said, patting her stomach. "I finally went to the doctor, and he said, 'Well, we know you can't get pregnant, but we'll check just in case.' Well, wouldn't you know, there it was, we were pregnant after all." I smiled, enjoying the story of her miracle.

She stood another moment, smiling at the baby, then looked up at me through yesterday's tears. "We lost 6 more after that, but I had my girls." She sighed, smiled, then said, "And we fostered more than 300 children after that."

I was stunned. "Oh, well God bless you, what a wonderful thing to do!" I said with tears welling up in my eyes.

"And," she said grandly, "I also have 15 great-grandchildren." She beamed at me, then went on her way with a, "Have a nice evening."

I wish I'd asked her name. If I'd been able to speak, I'd have thanked her for her generous heart, and for helping me to have a better outlook on my day.