Sometime in the spring/summer of 2008, my first-time-pregnant wife came to my place of work to attend a ceremony celebrating the promotion of several people, including me.
Since being pregnant was a new thing for her, there was still a lot she didn’t know about how pregnancy would affect her body. The ceremony was to be held in a conference room that was already in use by someone else, so a crowd of us began gathering outside the door as the start time drew near. There was no place to sit while we were waiting, and my wife started feeling very hot and a little woozy. She told me something felt very wrong, and I was able to be right there to catch her as she fainted.
I was ready to ditch the ceremony and take her to the hospital, not knowing what was wrong. A gentle, but decisive old Master Sergeant made his way to us and helped revive my wife. Finding out she was pregnant, he disappeared somewhere else in the building for a few minutes, then returned with a piece of cake on a paper plate. He knew from experience that a mother-to-be’s body has an important relationship with blood sugar, and that skipping meals has a different set of consequences than when not pregnant.
Skip ahead about 14 years. A couple weeks ago our family took a trip to a beach town I’ve been visiting on and off since I was a kid. Part of the draw for that little town is a bakery that produces some great “I’ll eat better when I’m back home” food. My wife, our three kids, and I were milling around inside, each of us choosing something for that morning. The place had a number of customers waiting their turn, and our turn finally came. While my wife was in the middle of placing our family’s order, a man’s voice called out “can somebody dial 911?!” I looked over to see a man holding an unconscious woman, seated in a chair at a table near the window, preventing her from falling over. Her head was bent at an awkward angle, her hair completely covering her face.
I reached for my phone, only to discover that I didn’t have it on me. (I’m on vacation, at the bakery. If you call me here, I’m not answering it.) Both my wife and one of the bakery staff placed the call. I went over and tried to see how I could help. In talking to him, I learned that she was a couple of months pregnant, and I passed the info along to those on the phone with the dispatchers. Though he was obviously well-intentioned, it became pretty apparent that the guy didn’t have a clue what to do. I told him that we needed to get her lowered to the floor. Protective of his girl, and not really willing to comply until he determined that I wasn’t some sort of con man, he asked “are you a doctor or something?”
Now, I’m no doctor. I haven’t been certified in CPR or first aid in over 20 years. A few thoughts flashed through my head, memories of things I could tell him about, and I almost flipped out on the guy about whether or not he was seriously asking me this question while this woman, for all I knew, was choking to death on a bear claw while he tried to establish my credentials. Instead I answered something like “I know a thing or two about this. We need to make sure her airway is clear, and I can’t do it when she’s like this.”
That seemed enough to satisfy him, and the two of us lowered her to the ground so she was seated with her legs out in front of her. Before we could lay her down all the way, she started coming around. The fella held her steady as she groggily started piecing together what happened. During the course of talking with her, it came out that she had skipped having any food so far that morning. At only two months pregnant with a first-time pregnancy, it was still early enough that you’re still kind of finding out the hard way what you can and can’t do. This all started feeling a lot more familiar to me. The bakery worker that had called 911, who I suspect had been through at least one pregnancy of her own, came over and offered an unopened bottle of orange juice. My wife now off the phone with 911, she, too, made the connection, and began telling about her experience 14 years prior.
We spent some time trying to help her not feel so embarrassed, sitting on the bakery floor with everyone staring at her. Right about then I saw a police vehicle arrive and the officer grab a pair of medical bags out of the trunk. Holding the door open for him and seeing that the professional was now on the scene, I turned my attention back to what we’d been doing. My kiddos, on their own, had moved to a part of the store where they’d be out of everyone’s way, and stood quietly waiting for things to play out. It was one of those “Jesus looked at them and loved them” kind of moments.
When our family left the bakery, those two were still being attended to by the police officer. Later that day though, we saw them walking around the town, so things must’ve turned out alright for them.
You’ve almost certainly heard before that God prepares you for the things He places in your path. Sometimes it’s funny how He does it. I certainly didn’t consider my wife’s fainting as a preparatory action, at least at the time. Who knows? Maybe in another 14 years, those two (by that time) well-experienced parents will be helping out another set of parents-to-be.
It’s also important not to get caught up in a “I’m not qualified” mindset (at least for the important things). Sure, we were qualified to call 911. We weren’t really “qualified” for any sort of medical care, but we were the ones to step forward and be there with someone that was going through something scary. It doesn’t take any special training. Often we focus more on the reasons why we shouldn’t step forward than on the reasons we should. If you’ll allow me to push the metaphor a little, I’d say that if you wait until you consider yourself “ready” to jump in and follow God’s call, you’re probably not ever going to do it. God’s strength is made perfect in our weakness, and He wants us to have willing hearts more than properly trained and educated minds. He’s given you different experiences, giftings, and abilities that are intended to be used. Please…use them.
Lord, thank you that this event didn’t seem to be anything serious. Thank you also that You put someone there to help those two get through it. Thank you still that You invited us to be a few of those “someones.” And finally, thank you for all the opportunities You’ll give everyone reading this to be a part of the story You’ve written for their lives; please give us all the courage and preparation we’ll need for those times. In Your name I ask, Amen.