“Okay,
kids, time to get in the car. Did everyone go to the bathroom?” Choruses of affirmation spewed from the
mouths of the little bodies rushing by me.
Deni
reached for her baby sister, followed by my reach across the duo to envelop
them in the same bucket seat safety belt. Over on the driver’s side, little
bodies squeezed behind the seat to secure
a spot on the backseat.
“Hey,
wait up, kids! I can flip that seat back to give you more room to get inside.”
I spoke as I rounded the rear of the car, but found no child still outside the
vehicle. “Or, you can just get in there yourselves,” I said with a laugh and
shake of my head.
Along
the highway, the raucous chatter of seven youngsters didn’t keep Susie from
dropping off to sleep in her sister’s arms. If only the rest of the bunch
responded to the motion of the wheels rolling over the asphalt. Not a chance.
“I
gonna get fwies,” said two-year-old
Jamie.
A
chorus of “Me, too,” roared from the backseat, accompanied by a couple of
jumpers cheering.
“When
do we get to eat?” I’d rehearsed this scenario over and over before leaving the
house, so I hoped the excitement didn’t wipe their memories clean.
“When
you’re done at the hospital,” said Sally,
a precocious three-year-old.
“After
you finished the meeting,” said Danny.
Deni
finished his recitation. “But we gotta
stay in the car, or we don’t get to eat
at the café, right?”
“Yes,
that’s right. I’m only going to be in the meeting for fifteen minutes. I already
told the chairman that you kids would be
with me. Are you going to be good and not fight with each other when I’m in the
hospital?” We’d rehearsed this question the most.
Loud
replies of “We be good!” And, “No fighting!” filled the car. All of us laughed
like the whole exercise had been a game to entertain them. I prayed the result
wouldn’t be lost when the game stopped,
and the challenge began.
An
hour later, I pulled into the hospital parking lot. I discovered a slot on the
side, near the employee entrance—and the restrooms. Opening the driver’s door,
I flipped the seat forward. “Okay, everyone out. Stretch your legs right around
the car; don’t go walking away.”
Moving
over to the opposite side of the car, I freed Deni and Susie from the
passenger’s seatbelt. I lifted the baby off her four-year-old sister’s lap and
giggled a few terms of endearment to the infant nestling into my neck. “Thanks
so much for helping me, Honey,” I said to Deni with a sideways, one-arm hug.
She turned and squeezed me with both arms.
Soon
each of the lively gang had made a trip to the restroom and executed a
twenty-yard run to the fence and back. Though I had my suspicions that a couple
of the girls had only gone to check out what the hospital’s restroom looked
like, I prayed that none of the kids would need a potty break while I spoke
with the committee. Susie’s diapers had been
changed, too, so we should be all set.
“Okay,
now comes the hard part. Everyone back in the car. All of the windows are open,
but I need you to stay in the car.” Little bodies rushed to find their places.
“I’ve noticed what time it is now. I’ll be back in exactly fifteen minutes,” I
said, tapping my watch.”If everyone is still
being good and no one is fighting, then we’ll all go for hamburgers and
fries. Got that?”
Heads
bobbed, and verbal acclamations of
agreement filled the car.
“Now,
what do you need to do?” I said, making eye-contact with each preschooler.
Each
of the kids lifted a hand to their lips and demonstrated a turning lock. Since
this hadn’t been a part of our rehearsal, I’d been taken by surprise. I nearly
burst out laughing but restrained. I nodded, locking my lips, too. Fortunately,
Susie didn’t cry when I passed her to the seated Deni and walked over to the
hospital.
As
I entered the conference room, Dr. Holloway stopped mid-sentence. Looking up, he said, “C’mon in. Take a seat.
We’re about to your part of the agenda now.”
“With
all due respect, Gentlemen, I’m afraid you’ll have to skip right to my part on the agenda.
I have eight kids all-but-one under the age of four out in my car. They expect
to wait fifteen minutes for my return. If I’m not back, they’ll come looking
for me.”
“How
will they know where to look?” said one businessman.
The
men had begun laughing until I spoke. “I told the four-year-old which room I’d
be in in case of emergency, of course.
Shall we get started?”
“As
I indicated over the phone,” said Dr. Holloway, “we have a grant to construct a convalescence facility
just outside of town. Well, uh, our timetable hasn’t gone as we’d hoped and
we’re in danger of losing the grant. We need the facility up and running no
later than July 1.”
“And,
where are you in the construction now?” I said, feeling my project-loving genes
begin to kick in.
I
listened to murmurs and grumbles around the table,
but no one voiced a reply. I began to
chuckle. “Oh, c’mon boys. Someone knows,
don’t you?”
“We
had the groundbreaking ceremony last July,
I think it was,” said one man dressed in semi-fancy cowboy attire.
“Okay.
It’s November now. How much of the building
is up?”
One
man started to shift the layers of blueprints in my direction. I took a look, alert to the specifics he pointed out.
“That’s
the problem; none of it has been constructed
yet. We, finally, agreed on the architect. We have someone in the next county’s
hospital who can help us get the equipment and furnishings ordered.”
“Wow,
you’ve got a lot to get done in those next eight months,” I said, stating the
obvious. “I’m flattered that you called me, Dr. Holloway, “but I really don’t think I can help you. It’s a
challenging proposition, but I’ve got kids I’m caring for right now. I’m not really free to dive into this project with the
number of hours you’d need me to commit.”
“Just
think about it. If you don’t help us, we’ll lose the chance to have the
facility.”
“I’m
sorry; I truly am, Gentlemen. You need to keep looking.”
“Think
about it. If you change your mind, call me,” the persistent physician said.
Glancing
at my watch, I stood to leave. “Thank you for asking me. I don’t think anything
will change in time to help you, but if
something does, I’ll let you know.”
I
shook each hand, smiled, and rushed out to the car.
Just
in time; Deni had already opened the car door. “I’m here, Sweetie. Let me take
Susie. It’s only a couple minutes drive to the café,” I said lifting Susie out
of her arms. “Ready to eat, kids?”
The
minions cheered all the way to the little diner. Once there, finding a table
for eight plus a high chair proved a bit of a challenge.
The
kids began helping the waitress pull back chairs, as she slid two tables
together. I found their gentle touch as they moved the chairs impressive. No
one pushed or shoved the chair into place. Soon everyone had been seated, and I lifted the baby into the high
chair next to me.
Before
long, the children dived into their hamburgers and fries with the gusto of a
hungry team of wranglers. Each one exercised proper table manners, being
courteous and never spilling a drop of milk.
Susie
liked to gnaw on the fries, but when hungry, she preferred to be fed from the
spoon. I’d brought the baby food grinder with me, so I had no trouble providing
Susie with lunch. As I lifted Susie’s tiny spoon to her lips, I glimpsed the
waitress standing off to my left. I let the baby empty the spoon before I spoke.
“Is
everything okay?” I said, quickly surveying my chomping minions to be sure
nothing had been broken.
“Yes.
Yes, of course. Everything’s okay. I wanted to know if I could ask you
something. We, er, well all of us, actually, have been wondering—“
Looking
away from the uniformed server, I swept my gaze over the now-silent room of
diners. Every pair of eyes had focused on our table.
“Sure.
What do you—all—want to know?”
“Are
all of these kids yours?”
I
began to laugh. “They are for today,” I said. “Actually,
three of them are foster children that live with me, but the others are with us
during the week when their own mothers
have to work.”
“Oh,
good. It’s just that they’re all so small and yet they’re so well-behaved. None
of us have ever seen so many kids with one adult at a table and not seen food
flying and kids screaming or crying. You
know what I mean?”
“Yes,
I do. I understand why you all wondered,” I said, smiling around at the other
diners. “I just never thought about how we must look to other people. We eat
together every weekday. They’ve learned to behave well at the table. I think
the only conflict that arises from time to time has to do with whose turn it is
to offer the prayer of blessing over the food before we eat.”
“Well,
that’s just wonderful. Unbelievable, really.
You and your kids can come back anytime.
It’ll be a privilege to serve you.”
Driving home, little bodies folded over each other in sleep, I
thanked the Lord for this special day trip with the children. I hadn’t noticed
the comportment of the little ones, but others
certainly had. What a blessing!
As
I passed the hour, the silence of the mini-tribe gave rise to my thoughts of
the enormous challenge I’d been offered back at the hospital. I had no idea
just how the Lord intended to answer my prayer that He find someone to help
them get the facility up and running before time ran out. Sometimes, it’s best
not to know, right?
*All
names have been changed.
Note:
Thread of the foster children’s story begins with this link: With Just One Phone Call
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