Bonnie Chadwell sat silently, her hands in her lap. She idly turned her wedding band around and around her left finger as she sat, but her mind was not idle. She was praying as fervently as she’d ever done in her life. The day was overcast, and Bonnie subconsciously wished the lights in the lobby of the insurance building were brighter. Lou Ferguson would soon step out of her office to join Bonnie to get a cup of coffee. The sense of foreboding that Bonnie felt seemed to permeate the dimly lit room, and she found herself wishing she could escape out the door and call Lou to cancel their coffee date.
“Lord, I need Your presence here, and Your words. And we both need Your grace, Father.”
The door to the adjacent office opened, and out stepped a plump, attractive woman in her late thirties.
“Hi, Bonnie.” The voice was a full mezzo. “I’m sorry you’ve had to wait in this depressing lobby; you should have knocked on my door. At least I have a window in my office, even though outside it isn’t much perkier than this room right now.” Lou’s rippled laughter was musical, and Bonnie responded affably.
“Actually, I’m feeling a little down, so I guess I fit right in.”
“A little down? Why, hon?” She jerked her head around in honest concern, then held up her hand suddenly. “Wait a minute. Don’t tell me just yet; I think I need to step out of the dark here before I hear anything depressing. I might have a hard time recuperating from any bad news in this atmosphere.” She simultaneously pursed her lips and rolled her eyes disapprovingly.
Lou went down the hallway to get her coat while Bonnie bowed her head and shut her eyes, praying, “Oh, God, please help me to be a true friend to Lou, and cause this whole situation to work out beautifully. Lord, I’ll be so grateful to You. Take care of us all. In Jesus’ name I pray. Amen.” She hurried through the prayer just in time to give her full attention to the portly lady’s voice.
“Would you mind dropping me off at home afterwards? My car is in the shop and John brought me to work this morning.”
“Sure—you’re right on my way.”
Lou smiled appreciatively. “Bonnie, I’m so glad we can spend a little time together. You know, I’m chairing the Mother-Daughter banquet again this year, and I need committee members. I was hoping you could help me.”
“The Mother-Daughter banquet? I think I could. Sure.”
“Thanks. I’m looking forward to it. Somehow, the more I’m involved with something, the more I enjoy it.”
They had reached Bonnie’s car now, and they continued chatting, covering sundry subjects, all the way to the restaurant on 22ndAvenue where Lou had suggested going. As they sat down, a waitress promptly handed them each a menu, which the women declined with Lou explaining, “I’ve been bragging on your sour cream apple pie, and my friend wants to try a piece.” She turned to Bonnie. “Do you want it a la mode?”
“Mmmm! Yes. And I’d love a cup of coffee—with cream.”
“Make that two,” Lou added, “but no cream for me.” She smiled, dismissing the waitress. Turning to Bonnie, she lowered her voice to a confidential whisper. “This is where Midge and Nick like to go.” A mother’s pride made her eyes shine in a softly tender way.
“Oh, Lord, please be here to guide us,” Bonnie mutely prayed.
“That’s the reason I enjoy coming here. It kind of helps me feel more connected to them. They spend a lot of time together, but not usually at home.” Her laugh was meant to be nonchalant, but it had a hollow, lonely ring to it, Bonnie thought, then decided her interpretation must be tainted by the news she carried. Her heart was beating fast. She would have loved to have just shared some light-hearted time with Lou, and she pleaded silently to God. “Are you sure I need to tell her?”
Before the question was out, a scripture verse played across her mind: “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.”
“Yes, Lord,” she answered mutely. And again, faster than she could have read the words in the natural, another scripture flashed before her. “Inasmuch as ye have done it to the least of these my brethren, have ye done it unto me.”
“Yes, Lord,” she responded again, “a scripture for Lou and one for the baby, but what about Midge?” They are for Lou, and for the baby, and they are both for Midge.
“I’ve never met Nick.” Bonnie spoke audibly now. “But Midge is certainly a sweet little gal.”
The waitress set down the pie, and the women continued chatting for a few minutes as they ate. Presently, Bonnie spoke. “You know, Susie’s very fond of Midge.”
“She is? That’s nice to hear. You’ve been so good to give her rides to the rec center.” She paused and then added, “Yes, Midge is a good kid. Of course my opinion’s a bit biased. But enough about Midge. Something’s obviously on your mind, Bonnie. You said you were feeling a little depressed. What is it?”
“Well, actually it’s about Midge.”
“Midge?” Lou set down her coffee cup and looked across at Bonnie with puzzled curiosity on her face.
“Yes.” Bonnie sighed, ready to take the dive. But instead, she found herself saying, “I was thinking that Midge and you and Susie and I might drive up to Rock Pier sometime. You know, I don’t have much chance to spend with Susie, either, with her job and school responsibilities. I’m sure your Saturdays fill up fast, but if you can, I know we’d love it.”
A smile smacking of relief spread across Lou’s face. “That would be fun. You know, Bonnie, we should ask the girls to be on the Mother-Daughter committee.”
“That’s a great idea. Maybe we could poke them for suggestions—a little youth in the planning phase.”
Go to the park, a voice interjected, just as Bonnie pushed aside her empty plate and looked out the window.
The sun was breaking through the clouds and flooded the window area where they were seated. Lou spontaneously commented. “It’s beautiful out there now. Do you have time for a quick walk through the park before you take me home? That was a huge piece of pie, and I could use some exercise!”
Bonnie swallowed her astonishment and under her breath intoned, “Yes, Lord!” Audibly, she replied, “I’d love to. Let’s go. And the pie was great. We’ll have to come back here with the girls sometime this spring. I know Susie would like to. Maybe sometime when Nick’s at baseball practice. I hear he’s quite a shortstop.”
Lou assented vigorously, and they rose to go, as Bonnie quietly prayed once again for God to take over for both her and Lou.
Reaching the park, they got out of the car and saw a young girl about sixteen or seventeen walking past them, pushing a stroller with a sleeping baby. She smiled at the women and they both reciprocated as they turned to go in the opposite direction.
“Such a young mother. I feel sorry for her,” Lou said, quietly.
“Yes, it can’t be easy.” No other words came to Bonnie.
“I love walking in the park at this time of day, and I don’t very often get a chance to do it.”
“No, I don’t either. Oh, look, Lou! That blue jay and the squirrel over there: it looks like they’re squaring off, ready for a showdown.”
“It does look like that. I guess blue jays are nasty birds, or so I’ve heard. But they’re so pretty.” She smiled, turning to Bonnie. “When I was nine, I wrote a poem about a robin, a crow and a blue jay. It was several verses about three birds’ discussion of which one of them would be the subject of an artist’s painting. The robin was the good guy, of course, and he’s the one who was painted. I still have the poem, but it was such a long time ago.”
Bonnie turned to Lou. “Do you still write?”
“No, not really, although I don’t mind it if I have to for some reason. John is an excellent writer, though, and Midge’s favorite class is always the one that requires a lot of essay writing. She’s really quite talented that way. I hope she’ll pursue some type of career with that in mind.” Lou sighed and turned to Bonnie before continuing. “Lately she’s been keeping to herself quite a bit, and I think it’s because she likes writing and has to find solitude for the ‘muse to appear,’ as they say.”
Bonnie mutely pleaded, “Help, Lord,” and took the dive.
“Lou, I really do need to talk with you about something that is on my mind. It’s Midge.” Bonnie looked at Lou until their eyes connected and she knew she had her friend’s full attention.
“Midge?” Lou had strong confidence in Bonnie’s sincerity and integrity. Although her daughter’s being the subject had taken her completely by surprise, the combination of empathy and sympathy emanating from the older woman acted like glue, bonding the two women in a peculiarly strong way.
Bonnie inhaled slowly as she stopped, and turned, taking both Lou’s hands into her own. She stood face to face to her friend. “Midge told Susie she’s pregnant.” Lou would have caught her left hand up to cover the gasp that came from her mouth, but Bonnie held both hands firmly and kept talking. “She’s scared, Lou. She told Susie she wanted you to know but just couldn’t bring herself to tell you and John, because you’d both be so disappointed in her.”
A look of shock and then hurt had spread across Lou’s face as she listened to Bonnie, and tears filled her eyes. “Midge? My Midge?” She shook her head in vigorous denial. “No. No.”
Bonnie kept talking, feeling compelled to go on. “Susie said Midge has been on the verge of crying every time she sees her. Oh, Lou, I’m so sorry, but if it were Susie, I’d want so much to know in order to be there for her.”
Bonnie pulled some tissue from her pocket for Lou. Then she put her arms around her friend, thankful that the park was pretty much unoccupied.
“I don’t know you very well, Lou; but I know that if you’re a Christian, we’re sisters—sisters in Christ.”
“I’m a Christian,” Lou asserted, curiously—almost defensively.
“Then we have the same Father—a loving Father, who knows all things and provides all we need for any situation. I faced a crisis fifteen years ago when my Bill died. When I heard the news, I was shocked and devastated. But I had just read—just ‘happened’ to have read—about that Shunamite woman in the Old Testament—the one who said, ‘It is well,’ when she was asked where she was off to in such a big hurry after her precious son died. Elijah brought the Shunamite woman’s son back to life, you know.”
Bonnie tilted her head and looked at Lou with a poignant expression as she continued. “Well, I didn’t expect God to bring Bill back to life. But God just burned that phrase into my heart, and I went to bed that night saying, ‘All is well.’ I said it I don’t know how many times through that first night and throughout that first week. I didn’t feel that way, of course, but somehow I felt compelled to say it. It was just a three-word sentence, but it’s helped me over the years so many times—helped me remember that God’s in control, and nothing catches Him off guard.”
Bonnie was so sincere as she spoke that Lou listened to her words, even through her tears and despite the trauma of the moment.
“Lou, God loves us so much. Every time we face something hard, His arms are open for us to run to Him for comfort, for counsel, for direction. And if we do that, we end up experiencing His love in a deeper way. He is awesome—you know that, right?”
Lou’s smile was cynical. “I guess.”
Bonnie addressed her friend adamantly. “Lou, look at me.” When she was satisfied that she had Lou’s full attention, she said, “Susie thinks Midge really doesn’t want to have an abortion—she just feels like there’s nothing else to do, and she doesn’t want you to be ashamed of her.”
Tears spilled over again, as Lou choked out her words in staccato sobs. “She’s only fifteen—so young. Why? Why?”
“I remember asking that when Bill’s boss knocked at my door with his devastating news. But Lou, this isn’t a death announcement. Midge is all right. She just needs someone to run to for that comfort, that counsel, that direction—she needs God’s arms around her, and God can really use you as a stand-in until she really trusts Him herself. Right now she trusts you and John more than anyone in the world—probably more than Nick.”
“Oh, poor Nick!” Lou blurted out the words between sobs.
Bonnie put one arm around Lou’s waist and gently started walking again. Lou reluctantly started walking, too, but stopped after only a few yards.
“Bonnie, I think I need to be alone and collect my thoughts. I don’t know how to tell John. And I’m not sure I know how to talk to Midge. I wish I could just drive away.”
“Do you mind if I pray with you before I leave?”
“No. Oh, God,” Lou groaned as Bonnie took both her hands into her own.
“God, You’re our loving Father. We come to you with big things and little things all through the day. This is a big thing. Jesus said He had to go away so that the Counselor could come. We need Your divine, all-knowing counsel, Holy Spirit. Please help John and Lou to do exactly what You want them to do, to say only what You want them to say, and even to think only what You want them to think. Give them Your grace. Take care of Midge. Let her know how much she’s loved. Help Nick, too, dear Lord. Thank You for Your promise that You work all things for good for those who love You and are called according to Your purpose. Oh Lord, my prayer is that You and You alone will direct John and Lou and Midge, because Your plans are for their good, and You love us all so very much. In Jesus’ name, I pray. Amen.”
Lou sobbed as Bonnie held her tightly, whispering, “You can call me anytime, you know. I’ll be praying that the Lord will work this out beautifully and that you’ll look back in a year and say, ‘Yes, Lord, all is well.’ And remember, when you feel overwhelmed, just say it in faith: ‘All is well.’ OK?” She asked the question in a gentle whisper.
“OK.” Lou managed a bleak, almost sarcastic smile. But she squeezed Bonnie’s fingers in a way that expressed thanks in a most sincere way. Bonnie breathed a prayer of thanks as she walked to her car and drove home.
……….
Lou Ferguson was tired. She didn’t like the news Bonnie Chadwell had brought her. She wasn’t even sure if she liked Bonnie at this moment, but she didn’t have time to think about Bonnie. It was Midge she was concerned for. Her thoughts were interrupted, though, with the phrase that flashed to center front in her mind: All is well.
“What?” Lou said out loud. She didn’t usually talk to herself, and she unconsciously turned around to see if anyone had overheard her.
All is well. The phrase flashed once more, and it seemed to be outside herself, as if she weren’t alone.
She breathed out a long, resigned sigh. “What do I say to Midge? What will she say to me?” Lou whispered to herself, then agonized, “God, help me.”
Talk to John. All is well. It was like an answer to her groan.
Lou was curiously perplexed. Her prayers had always been one-way conversations in the past. It was John who was the spiritual constant in their family. But right now, here in the park, all alone, she had the feeling that Almighty God was giving her—plain little Lou, devastated mother of a pregnant teen—His undivided attention.
“What will he say?” Lou was finding comfort in the dialog, even while tears streamed down her cheeks.
Go home and find out. All is well.
“I’ll take the bus.”
Walk. Walk and pray. Pray for Midge. Pray for Nick. Pray for the baby.
“The baby?”
Your grandchild.
“But God.” The tears kept coming. “She’s so young.”
The baby?
Lou had to chuckle, in spite of herself. She had never thought of God as having a sense of humor. But despite the trauma engulfing her, she felt a certain encouragement—almost buoyancy—emanating from the fact that she was having such a “human” conversation with God Himself.
“No, God. Midge. Midge is so young. What about her plans to become a writer?”
She can’t write if she’s pregnant?
“Well, yes, she can write. But what about school? What will everybody say?”
Hold onto my hand, and it won’t matter so much. I have a better question: What will I say?
“What will You say?” Lou repeated the question.
Yes, what will I say? Keep asking that question, and you’ll stay on target. Take Bonnie’s advice. Keep saying—out loud—‘All is well,’ and you will have peace: My peace, Lou.
Just moments before, Lou had been overwhelmed with the news of Midge’s pregnancy and all its implications, including her own failure as a parent. But the feeling of being overwhelmed was being challenged now by a certain hope that she found flat-out amazing.
And so it was, the entire long walk home. A negative thought would no sooner surface than the question, What will I say? would counter-attack and dispel the negative. That was the case when the thought surfaced that Nick had taken advantage of her daughter. Just as suddenly, Lou remembered a scripture from somewhere in her past. “And when you stand praying, forgive.” She responded to the command out loud, this time not caring if she were overheard as she walked faster and faster home.
“God,” she prayed, “Nick is scared, I’m sure. And I’m sure he wishes it had never happened. No matter what happens, help us to love him. Please don’t let any bitterness lodge in Midge’s heart.” The tears came again, but so did the words, flashing again across her mind’s eye: All is well.
Lou was eager, now, to get home to John—to walk into his arms and be held by him. Dear John, so steadfast, so devout, so proud of his Midge.
“God, help him to love her even more.”
All is well!
Thankfulness took preeminence in Lou’s emotions. Ahead of her—and John—and especially Midge—were difficult days. But she was armed with two powerful thoughts. God Himself had told her to keep asking,“What would I say?” And, through Bonnie, He’d told her to keep saying, “All is well.”
She knew John would be a rock in the coming months, and her heart welled up in thanks just for that confidence she had in her husband. And whether it would be helping Midge with late night feedings, or holding her close when her daughter missed the child she’d placed in adoptive care, Lou felt ready to face whatever situation would prevail.
“I do care what You think, God. And yes, I do say, “All is well!’”
……….
Midge walked out the east door of Central High to head home as fast as she could so as to avoid Nick’s seeing her. She knew he was probably waiting for her at the south entrance as he always did, but she couldn’t let him see her this afternoon.
Ever since he’d learned she was pregnant, Nick had been pushing Midge to have an abortion. At first it had seemed reasonable; but as the days wore on, Midge found herself wanting to stay away from Nick and his adamant focus on her aborting the baby they’d conceived.
“Oh, God.” It was a guttural whisper stretched out into a pathetic plea. “Oh, God, I want to die. I can’t face Mom and Dad. I can’t! I just can’t!”
But something in her heart—or was it in her mind? Something, some voice said quite clearly, You can. You must. Midge walked faster and caught her hand over her mouth to keep her sudden sobbing from being audible. She was glad for her long hair, because it seemed a shield from any prying eyes behind the windows of the houses she passed in her speed-walk home. Her distress was somewhat mitigated just by the fact that she’d been able to avoid Nick. Midge found herself thinking again of how he had worked out all the details for an abortion in a meticulous way that wasn’t like him normally. She took a detour from her despondent mood to court a bit of anger. “His mom’s probably been spending days on the telephone, making all the ‘necessary arrangements,’” Midge thought to herself, her eyes flashing through the tears that she brushed angrily away. “Well, Nick, your mom doesn’t have the final say. And neither do you.”
But the strength and independence she felt in her anger quickly dissipated as she turned the last corner onto Eldridge Street and headed for 1735. Her heart that had been strengthened in her momentary indignation directed towards Nick’s mother now sank lower than ever. How could she tell her dad and mom? They were both so proud of her. She’d not only ruined her life—she’d ruined theirs, too. If they chose an abortion for her, she still wasn’t sure she would go through with it; and if she did, she could imagine resenting them for this decision all her life. That would be a ruined life for her and them. On the other hand, if she had the baby, she’d resent their having wanted to abort him. A bad deal again.
“And,” Midge’s thoughts dolefully continued, “if they want me to have the baby, it’s either giving up their first grandchild or it’s a new baby in the house; and they’d be taking care of him more than I—if they had their way—for my sake. That’s not fair—for them or for the baby.” Despair settled in again. Midge had grown accustomed to the painful knot in her throat.
“At least they’ll know I’m sorry,” Midge muttered to herself as she wiped her eyes again, knowing they were hopelessly red beyond concealment. “Not that it does a bit of good.” Her sigh was a mixture of anguish and resignation.
“God, I’m so sorry. I knew it was wrong. Please help my parents. I love them so much. I don’t know how to tell them. How can I?”
You can; you must.
Midge took a deep breath and blew out slowly with her cheeks puffed out. She took a second deep breath and held it before letting it out in another long sigh. It was a healthier one, however. Rather than anguished resignation, an empowering determination filtered through that said clearly, “OK, bring it on. I’ll do it.”
A third sigh. This time Midge spoke audibly. “God, I am so tired.”
She swung her backpack off her shoulder and onto the step and unlocked the back door.