Last Sunday I brought a baby to church without a bottle. He really shouldn’t have been hungry, so when I realized I had left it on the dining room table I thought it wouldn’t be a huge deal. I was wrong in the worst way. Our little six month old guy is easy, he hardly cries, he’s always smiley, but sometimes (chances being 1/50) he goes into panic mode. This was our Sunday.
We have four little kiddos and church is never a beautiful picture of perfection. Everyone is antsy, the three year old is fussy, loud, and tries to tantrum enough to get taken out. Much to the dismay of the people around us, we rarely take him out. So when I had to take out our little man, my heart was pounding. I was worried to say the very least. Here I was leaving this my husband, this man who doesn’t want anymore children because it is hard work, with a four year old, a disagreeable three year old, and an almost two year old.
At first, I thought I could get the baby calmed quickly, he was just tired. It was working for a bit, but I’m fairly positive my anxious body sent waves through his own and he quickly amped up. I prayed and prayed like I had never prayed before, because I knew how terrible it could be out there for my husband and I knew how terrible it was for me in the cry room. It really was a moment a gave fully to God. I literally, sunk inside my skin, gazed up at the ceiling for second before closing my eyes in prayer… Jesus I trust in you. Take this moment out of our hands.
I looked at the lady next to me in the cry room. “This momma forgot the bottle.” I said in an apologetic voice. Though it is a cry room, you still feel bad if your child is the only one crying. Soon after, she offered me a bottle and some formula. The other woman in the room offered to mix it for me. I almost thought to say, “no thank you” because I need to pay for my mistake or something. As if to say, “Oh thanks, but I made the mistake of leaving the bottle, I’m okay suffering the consequences.” What is wrong with me?
I could not thank her enough. I could not be more thankful for these two women who had been directed by God just moments after putting it all in His hands. Our baby quickly drank and was calmer immediately. I sat there in the cry room a little more relaxed until I remembered…. my husband and the kids!
I looked over at this woman sitting by me, the one who offered her spare bottle and formula to me in my moment of need, and I dreaded asking her for one more favor. I needed to get out there and help my husband. I hated to ask, but I did, and she willingly allowed me to take her bottle into the church to go be with my family. I thanked her and thanked her. I said, I’d come find her after the mass had ended, and asked her name. She said, “Whitney.”
I didn’t find her, and I still have her bottle. Though at this point I think she probably doesn’t care too much about the bottle, I do want to give it back. Whether or not she cares isn’t the issue, my biggest desire is to let her know how much she did for me that day. She did not just give me a tool to be used in calming my son, she gave a greater gift that hour. She showed me God’s love. She showed us all to give selflessly, and to help others in need. When I remember how she looked sitting there as I asked her name, I see a light shining on her from above.
If you by any chance go to church with our family, at Christ the King in Tulsa, OK, would you please help me find Whitney? Will you help me by passing this blog post around today?
side note: My husband and the kids were taken care of by God as well. He is still talking about how perfect they all were while I was out, and I was very impressed when I returned to our pew that day. God held our family in His loving arms last Sunday at church!