Thanks for another child!

The cleaning lady was at her best today. She was removing the dirty bed linens wet with stale vomit. I wish I could have hugged her and told her how thankful I was, but that was not my true nature. Instead I smiled a lot with her and took her side as she complained about how badly people were treating her. I also listened to her sad stories about what she did with her meager salary and how she was struggling to send her children to school.

As she stooped to remove the bed pan from underneath the bed, she took a long look at the young man lying down. He had the same look she had been used to, but today her countenance was more on the solemn side. The scene was tear-jerking. In a matter of seconds I had shifted from the bold, courageous woman that I had become for my son, Mario, who was battling bone cancer, to a pitiful bundle of nerves.  I was now looking at my only son bound by one of the cruelest diseases known to man. How could an active young man with a promising athletic career, fall victim to such a fate. There were no early warning signs only a sudden onset of a pain in the left foot. 

The several doctors’ visits that followed were very frustrating until he was finally diagnosed, just in time to save his leg and his life. My only child could have died and I would be left childless. That was horrifying!

“You have other children,” the cleaning lady asked, jerking me back to the present.

“No. He is my only child.”

“You want me to pray that you get another one?”

To me that was impossible as I had several factors working against me. Firstly, I had a medical issue that warranted a hysterectomy and should have been done two years earlier. Secondly, I was not sexually active and was only concerned about the recovery and healing of Mario and thirdly I was way past forty.

“No. Thanks,” I responded, eliciting a stern, wide-eyed look from the cleaning lady.

I told her of the factors that would prevent me from having a child but this did not deter her. She rested the bed linens on a nearby table and stood akimbo as if to assert who was boss of the moment and the conversation.

“Miss let me tell you something,” she began. “I did not have any tubes and doctors told me that I could not have any children, but I asked God to give me a child. I prayed and asked Him and now I have three children. We are going to pray today!”

She took my left hand and told me to hold hands with Mario, who gave a faint smile as he held out his hand to grip mine. He seemed so weak and helpless but his smile and willingness to participate in the prayer gave me a strong burst of faith.

It was nothing long, just a sincere petition for God to give me another child. I believed.

And so a month later, despite making no preparation or plans, I was pregnant by Mario's father.

I rarely talk about how my son, Tariq was conceived because Mario’s father and I were not in a relationship and I was thoroughly chastised by some of my Christian friends for committing fornication. I am also unable to give this experience as a testimony in church because one friend encouraged me not to, as this would not be a good example to young girls.

One thing I can say though is that this is my story and it is true. I am so happy to have Tariq, and Mario could not have been given a better gift. As I watch both boys bond through the years, I am forever grateful that God is All Powerful and His thoughts and ways are certainly not ours. I also remember the faithful, loving and considerate cleaning lady, who took my hand and prayed.