December 13, 2021
The knock didn’t come at midnight, it came at 5pm… quittin’ time… on Friday.
A mom with newborn triplets and nowhere to go. Her abusive and drunkard excuse of a husband had no food at the house, no clean diapers waiting, no soft blankets.
All she could do was cry, the thin, government issued sheet soaked with her tears. She couldn’t stop. Hopelessness.
The nurses call God’s people. They will help. But it’s 5 o’clock Friday and we are full.
The twelve beds in the Jeff May House for women each have a mom with little ones, full up, no more room at the Inn.
How could we say no? Not at this time of year. A mom and her babe with nowhere to go?
So, we buck up, we get on the phone and start calling. Call Cliff to be ready to go pick them up. Gather up some tiny clothes and blankets. They never have blankets. Tell Ephram she’ll need some good warm nutritious soup to make her milk. Ritha will need to head back to work, let’s clean out a room at the Edwards/Dawson Blessing house. We’ll need diapers, lots of them, sheets, water, the room has no bathroom so she will need to walk outside and down the porch to the visitor’s bathroom. Don’t forget the toilet paper. And she’ll need towels to take a shower. And soap. The room had been empty for a year waiting for those Covid restricted volunteers to return. It was full of bugs. The floor crunched under my feet as I inched the door open.
Bado Moja, one more, come on guys, we can do this. One more mom in trouble, three little precious bundles of hope. Let’s go. Hold us up Father God!