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Previous Challenge Entry (Level 3 – Advanced)
Topic: Touch (the sense of touch) (08/05/10)

TITLE: No Butterfly Love
By Lillian Rhoades
08/11/10


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Would I have wanted to feel my baby kicking inside of me, to experience the frantic dash to the hospital and the welcomed wail that signaled new life?

9:00 a.m.

Rrring. The telephone's shrill tone interrupted my devotions.

"Hello."

"Hello."

"Hello?"

"Are you the lady who placed an ad in the paper?"

"Yes."

A pause, then,

" Would you consider taking care of my baby for the whole week?"

"Well..."

"You see, I have a live-in job and my mother can't help me out any longer.

I'm off on week-ends so I could pick him up on Friday night."

"Well, I..."

"If I can't find someone to take care of him, I might lose my job."

"I really hadn't..."

"I have to be back to work tommorrow and I don't know what else to do."

"How old is the baby?"

"Three months old."

"Oh, O.K. I really hadn't thought about..."

"Oh, thank you, thank you...Please excuse me for crying on the phone.
You were the last on my list of phone calls. No one else wanted to keep
my baby at night for me."

"You go ahead and cry. Tell me, what time will you bring the baby?"

"I don't have a car. Could you pick him up today?

"Today?"

"Could you?"

"I..."

"You don't have to worry about where he'll sleep. I have the crib my mother bought for him."

"I hadn't planned on...Well, never mind. Give me the address and I'll come get him this afternoon.


1:00 p.m.


"There, I think it'll fit."

With one final push the crib settles into the trunk of the car along with a suitcase filled with baby clothes.

"I'll pick him up on Friday evening. Goodbye Tat. I love you.
That's my nickname for him."
One final peek into the back window where Tat sits strapped into
his car seat, and she heads quickly towards the house.

6 months go by.

At nine months, he walked by holding on to the side of his crib. He called me "Ma-ma" at 10 months, and at 12 months, he tottered, fell to the floor, looked up and smiled at me,then picked himself up and tried again.


Years go by.

"Hey Grandma, " Payden cries out to me. He's Tat's youngest child.

"Hurry up, the fire's ready. It's time to roast the marshmallows."

As we walk towards the fire, he holds on to my hand as tightly as his father took hold of my heart those many years ago.

Do I regret not feeling fetal movements inside of me, enduring birth pains, or hearing that first cry? Not at all.

We are called to love wherever love's
wings touch down, to take someone by the hand and help them find their destiny.


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This article has been read 392 times
Member Comments
Member Date
Jeanne E Webster 08/13/10
Oh, what a heartbreak beginning. Wonderful ending though. I hoped for more details on Tat's mother and it seems the sitter accepted the baby too easily. You made a beautiful story though and I love the ending sentence.

Some minor editing with grammar and a typo will easily tidy up this story. Blessings. :)
Sarah Frase08/13/10
This is a subversively liberating story for women who adopt instead of bearing children. I didn't find it sad-it made me think-right on sister!
Shann Hall-LochmannVanBennekom 08/14/10
This is beautiful and what a sacrifice and risk on the MCs part. It would have been safer to keep the baby at a distance, never knowing if his birth mother might reappear. You did a great job of pulling me into the story.
AnneRene' Capp 08/15/10
As one of those mom's...I'm right there with you! This was a refreshing change on the topic and so encouraging about the love the Lord has given us for all of his children.