A precious newborn baby

There she was, in all her glorious pregnancy. You could tell by the way that she held her stomach that she was the full embodiment of a first time mama. Like a protective mama bear, the sheer mention of her delivery made her face turn from that of a radiant glow to one with a stoic intent. This baby would be cared for, whether on the streets or elsewhere. That is the reality when a homeless situation turns into a "party plus one" event.

So here I sit, trying to count weeks in my head based off of her last period, because you know, women who survive on the streets are known to have regular menstrual cycles, right? Wrong. Stress takes its toll and what she thinks might be "normal" might not be. As I scramble around my house to find some clothes for her to wear, I scatter sticky notes all over the place. "Prenatal vitams?" on one. "Feminine hygiene products" on another. "Ultrasound!" is written on a list in my purse as I start to think about what organizations I can reach out to for help. But really and truly, I want to do a drive by. Not that kind. The kind where I drive by where her tent is and make sure I don't see her squatting in a field trying to withhold the pushes in time for someone to notice her and recognize her need to get to a hospital asap. 

Atleast she isn't alone. It takes two to tango, and knowing that she hasn't been abandoned makes me feel a little bit better. Honestly as a mother, I ask God to purge me of any judgement I have towards a husband who seems to accept this reality as the norm, remembering how thankful that I am that she is not alone. I thank God that even though this mama bear may not have the same type of blessed pregnancy that I had, His ability to work in these parents' lives is the same as it was mine. 

And while the world waits for the the arrival of the homeless baby, I will thank God in advance for how He is going to use me in all this. But moreso, for how He is going to move the hearts of man. 

Once again, through the birth of a son.