The Glue

The magic glue didn’t work today.

When upon entering the minuscule enclosure of a public restroom stall with a toddler in tow, I make sure to carry with me an invisible vial of magic glue to smear on his back so that it sticks to the wall on which it is pressed.

In severe bathroom conditions, I also smear the glue on the palms of his hands to ensure they stick together lest they wander about and touch something less than sanitary—like, for instance, the sanitary napkin receptacle.  That’s the goal, y’all.

But today, he touched the untouchable.

He lifted the stainless steel lid and my eyes fell upon the empty box of a pregnancy test with the stick lying near it.  I made the requisite scolding for the wayward reach and reapplied the glue to the little hands with added magic while I hovered precariously above the grocery store toilet seat.

Finishing my own endeavor, I peeled his tiny T-shirt away from the wall and we walked out to the lavatory to vigorously wash all the magic and germs from our hands.  I turned on the faucet and as I watched the water run over his chubby fingers, I felt the hot water of tears run down my face.

Of course, I have no idea whose test that was; but, my imagination doesn’t limit for me the possibilities of a pregnancy test taken in a Kroger bathroom.

Walking out of the bathroom, I was met with all the paraphernalia of the upcoming Mother’s Day.  Cards, candy, flowers–all the things.  I was riddled with questions.

Was that pregnancy test taken with giddy joy unable to wait a moment longer to find out about a baby loved and longed for?  Was it a hidden test tucked into an anonymous bathroom bin for reasons hard or horrifying? Was it the hundredth test taken or the first?  Were the results welcome or unwanted?

Whatever the answers, I think deep down, regardless of our personal experiences, we women are hardwired to understand all the questions.  Whether the upcoming Mother’s Day makes your heart sing or sink, our womanly capacity to carry, nurture, and support life within our bodies creates a space in our souls that just understands these things.  As women we are made to know the weight of any answer whether we have carried babies in our wombs or not.

The feminine genius is our capacity to intuit the enormity regardless of our biological experience.

As I fastened my little one into his car seat to leave the parking lot, I thanked Jesus for giving me a woman’s heart for that moment and that woman.  She may have a swarm of other motherly hearts surrounding her (I hope she does!).  But, I felt honored that Jesus gave me a little peek into another woman’s day so that I could love and lift her up.  I have probably never met her and may never meet her in this world.  But, she is my sister.

And I am glad that magic glue sometimes doesn’t work.

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Franchelle Jaeger

Franchelle Jaeger

Franchelle writes from Nashville, TN.

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