The Right Choice

            "What?"

            Confused and a little embarrassed at my inattentive ness, I answered a little sharper than I intended.   Chenelle didn’t seem to notice, however, because she continued, "I know that this would be a real big step and that you should have some time to think about it, but we have so little time, and I cannot abandon Marion to a home for...delinquent teenagers and run-a-way girls."

            Thinking that I must be mistaken in what I thought I heard, I asked, "What are you talking about, Chenelle?"      

            "Don't you see, Delia, Marion is Loraine's child.  The one she had before she got married.  I can't forget the way she mourned the loss of her still-born baby. And on the few occasions that I spoke with her husband, his loss was no less acute. Through the years, I've never forgotten them, but had often wondered whether God had brought us together for a special reason and if the words I shared with her had brought her any comfort.  "Now, I am back to where we were eight years ago, and I can't leave her only child to foster homes.  I just can't."  Chenelle wiped at a tear which had rolled down her cheek.

            Chenelle's frustration had totally aroused me out of my reverie, and as I fixed my mind on the whole situation, it began to dawn on me that the child she wanted me to adopt was not a twenty-two month old baby boy but a sixteen year old girl.

            "You want me to adopt a sixteen year old child?  How could you ask such a thing of me?"

             My shock soon turned to self-pity, and the only serious prayers that I've never had answered besides the innocent ones to reverse time and undo my mistakes, manifested itself. Tears began to pour down my cheeks. Chenelle wanted me to deviate from my dream of motherhood – a dream I had shared with her, over and over. I felt betrayed.

        Soon self-pity turned to anger, and another malady that plagued me when I'm angry - raising my voice - reared its ugly head. I can only thank God that it really takes a lot to make me angry.  My mind must have classified Chenelle''s request as a lot, because I yelled, "Do you have any idea what it takes to rear a sixteen year old."

            "Don't get excited."

            "Don't get excited?  You invite me here under pretext, try to stick me with a sixteen year old woman and..."

            At my accusation, Chenelle eyes registered shock and then more tears.  My brain registered a young girl resisting being kissed …

               "I'm talking about relationships and the actions fostered by the emotions love, hate, or indifference.  My question to you is, ‘Who is the most important person in your lives, and where does God fit in the  scheme of things?’ .   .   .   .