Christmas Grace, Signing Seeds

by Lynn Donovan

  Her beta temp indicated she was ripe. She had three or four days of optimal ovulation. She’d call Doctor Gunnison’s office after she went to the grocery store. Her eyes rolled up and over to the right, as she visualized her Outlook calendar. She had a freelance interview today. She could move the interview, if Dr. G wanted her in the clinic right away.

  This would make four attempts this year. Was she out of her mind? Her husband’s dying wish was for her to have his baby. Of course, she shouldn’t call it a dying wish. He had been convinced he would not die. Her getting pregnant gave him incentive to beat the cancer and live. But she didn’t get pregnant, and he didn’t live. What was wrong with her? Women she knew got pregnant at the drop of a hat. Why couldn’t she? Chris might still be here if…

  No. She wouldn’t do that to herself. The cancer killed him. That’s all there was to it. His death was beyond anything she could control. God couldn’t even save him from such an early demise. Or at least He didn’t.

  Her therapist had told her eighteen months was the minimum amount of time to work through the grief. It was beyond that point. At least the calendar was beyond that point. Her grieving process was way behind. It felt as raw today as it did the day she came home after Chris’s funeral. The house and her soul were cold, dark, and silent. Little had changed except the pages on the calendar and her desire to have his child.

  Going through with the artificial insemination made perfectly logical sense to her. Chris had stirred up these desires to have his child. His absence had intensified those feelings. Or, maybe it was her biological clock. All she knew was she longed so deeply to have his child, a part of him back in her life. Was that asking too much?

  From Mother Nature?

  From God?

  A bolt of fear flashed through her gut. What if she was never meant to have a baby? Her body just wasn’t getting pregnant. What could possibly be wrong? Chris’s storehouse had been tested. They were viable, strong swimmers. She, too, had been tested. Nothing indicated any concern for conception. She had four or five more years before she’d need to worry about Down’s syndrome or any other complications due to her age.

  “Sometimes, these things take time,” Doctor Gunnison had patiently explained in his remnant Vietnamese accent. “Just like in the natural.”

  But after years of trying naturally, a year trying artificially, while Chris was so sick, and now a year of trying artificially, post-mortem, it just wasn’t happening. Was she foolishly wasting Chris’s life insurance benefits? But she knew this was why he had bought such a large insurance policy. He wanted her to be financially secure and to be able to have his baby without concern for the cost. She was doing this for him. Well, for her, but to fulfill his dying wish.

  She cringed. She had to stop thinking of it like that. Deep down, she simply wanted him returned to her through a child. She wanted to look into a small face and see his. To hold a small hand and recognize her husband’s gesture. She longed to hold someone who reminded her of Chris.

  Grief washed over her heart, as if it were just last month. She missed him so much. A baby—his baby—would bring a small part of him back to her. Her mind conjured an image—Chris’s green eyes, her brown hair, his oval-shaped jaw, her dimples. Their son…or daughter, she didn’t care the gender. Her arms and her heart ached to hold his baby.

  “Why can’t I get pregnant?” she yelled, as she slammed the refrigerator door. The smiley-face magnet fell, and the calendar page floated to the ceramic tile floor.

  She just stared at both.

  Chapter Seven

  “Grace?” Barbara Patterson called from across the potato bin.

  Grace touched the baseball cap covering her unwashed hair. “Oh. Hi.”

  “Girl, how are you?” Barbara hurried around the vegetables and pulled Grace into a firm embrace. “I have missed you so much.”

  Barbara squeezed her a second time.

  Tears sprang into Grace’s eyes. She loved this dear friend, even though she had avoided her and everybody else for two years.

  “Girl, I told you, burdens are not meant ta be shouldered alone. Why are you keeping ta yourself?”

  “Oh Barbara, it’s been so hard without Chris.”

  “I know, I know. Come over here. Let’s sit down.” Barbara pulled her over to the grocery store’s coffee shop. They sat in a booth. Barbara’s long fingers, ending in red nail polish, wrapped over and completely covered Grace’s hands. “Now, tell me. How you been doing?”

  “I’m fine.” Grace’s eyes roved over the salad bar island. She couldn’t look Barbara full on.

  “No, you’re not. I can see it in your eyes. You are grieving your heart out, aren’t you?”

  “I suppose.” Grace didn’t need this brutal honesty. She resisted the urge to jump up and run from this truthful, godly woman.

  “Have you prayed about this?”

  “Barbara, I pray all the time. I’m just…I don’t think God hears me.” Grace sighed. “My therapist says—”

  Barbara closed her eyes and swayed a little in her seat. “The Lord just quickened a word for you.”

  Grace pulled her hands back and dropped them in her lap. Her forehead went taut. “What do you mean?”

  “The Good Lord told me ta tell you, ‘Be a blessin’ in order ta receive a blessin’.’” Barbara tilted her head. “Do you have any idea what that means?”

  Grace stared at her. “No.”

  “Well, I think I do.” Barbara scooted out of her seat, her over-sized purse in tow. “I’m gonna get me a coffee. Can I get you one?”

  “Sure, make mine decaf.” She wanted to get her shopping done and get back home, but she felt compelled to stay, too. Some unexplainable feeling held her in her seat. She adjusted her ball cap and tried to relax.

  Barbara came back with two covered coffees and slid one over to Grace. She sipped gingerly at the steaming hot liquid.

  “We’re planning the Christmas Eve Program, and I would love for you ta perform with the team. It’s all Christmas hymns. They’re so beautiful when you illustrate ’em.” Barbara nearly whined.

  Grace stared at her. She drew in a deep breath and slowly let it out. “I don’t know…”

  She wasn’t ready to come back to the Praise and Worship service. She just wasn’t ready to commit to anything. Her pain was still too raw. She wasn’t even across the threshold where her therapist said things would start feeling better. She needed more time. She wanted to be alone. Alone with her grief.

  “Grace, I realize what you’re going through is really hard, but the Lord told me, ‘be a blessin’ so you can receive a blessin’. So whatever it is He has in mind for you, you have to make the first move.” Barbara reached to cover Grace’s hands. “Remember the parable of the seed time and harvest?”

  Grace shrugged and stared at Barbara’s hands.

  “Jesus tells the story about a farmer who goes out and seeds his field, some of the seeds fell into soil not appropriate for growth, but when the seeds fell into rich soil, the farmer received an abundant harvest of a hundred fold. Here, let me see—” Barbara yanked up her huge purse and dug around inside, mumbling to herself about the bottomless, Mary Poppins’ bag.

  Soon she pulled out her cell phone and began touching the screen and selecting letters. “Now, just a minute.”

  She continued to select items on her screen and slid her thumb across the illuminated glass. “Ah, here it is. In the book of Luke, 8th chapter, at the bottom of the 15th verse, ‘…and by persevering produce a crop.’ You see?” Barbara glanced up.

  Grace’s eyebrows pulled together. She shook her head. “No. Not really.”

  “Honey.” Barbara set her phone aside. “You’re comin’ ta God with all your needs when you should be comin’ ta Him with seeds. Be a blessin’…so you can receive a blessin’. Plant good seeds, in the appropriate soil, and by your persevering you shall produce a crop. In other words, you will be blessed.”

  “Just the one service, that’s
all I’m asking.” Barbara stared into Grace’s moist eyes. “It’s an excellent place for you ta start plantin’ seeds.”

  Barbara’s mouth dropped open. Her bright, red, lipstick-covered lips exposed whitened teeth. Her oval mouth widened into a huge grin. “You’ll be signing seeds! Oh I love that. You will bless the people, and I promise you, the Lord will bless you in return. Be it peace, or be it…whatever it is you are seeking.”

  Hopeful excitement radiated from Barbara’s dark-brown eyes. “You know all the songs, it won’t take nothin’ for you to be ready. Come ta one rehearsal the week before, and the service Christmas Eve. That’s all I’m asking. No commitment beyond that. We want you back, honey, but not ’til you are ready.”

  Tears stung Grace’s eyes. She stared at her friend. Pastor Barbara understood. She wasn’t forcing her to make a commitment to the team or the church. Signing seeds? Grace liked the sound of that. Her signing was a gift. People shared with her all the time how much her illustrations blessed them. One woman had told her, “It’s like hearing a story and seeing the illustrations. It makes such a difference.”

  Just one rehearsal and one performance. Christmas Eve. Just Christmas songs. She knew them all by heart. And…if it would open a door for her to finally receive a blessing from God, a positive pregnancy test, all the better.

  She would do it! A sense of dread instantly filled her gut. Standing up in front of the congregation as if she felt fine, as if her grief had passed and she was better now, still felt excruciatingly raw…and wrong. But her friend’s hopeful eyes softened her heart. She pursed her lips and sighed. “All right.”

  “Wonderful!” Barbara squeezed Grace’s hands. “I need to get going. I’m so excited you’ll be part of the Christmas program.” Barbara laughed loudly. “Signing seeds. I love it!”

  She scooted out of the seat, dragging her purse and her coffee with her. “God bless you, Grace. We’ll see you at the last rehearsal.”

  “God bless you, too. Yes, I’ll see you then.” Grace bit her lip. What had she agreed to? Could she do this? Did she want to do this? Barbara’s words drifted around her own selfish thoughts. Plant good seeds…in fertile soil…receive a harvest…signing seeds. A little trickle of excitement rippled through her heart. Did she dare hope this would work? At last, a real possibility for a baby.

  That thought made her smile. It felt odd. How long had it been since she had smiled? She loved the double meaning. She was planting heavenly seeds. The Heavenly Father would bless them. Then it would be Chris’s seed to be planted, and their baby would be her harvest. A sense of hope and joy filled her heart. How long had it been since she felt anything close to either one?

  She couldn’t help but to smile to herself. Thank you, Lord, for putting Barbara in my path today.

  Chapter Eight

  Thumbing through a Parenting magazine, Grace waited for her name to be called. Why didn’t they have any non-baby related magazines to stare at? Anxiety prevented her from perusing the information published in these monthly issues. Surely nobody actually read any of these. She dreaded the procedure, but she eagerly anticipated becoming pregnant. It was a paradox she had learned to live with.

  She closed her eyes and recalled Chris holding her. The smell of his skin. The feel of his arm around her shoulder as she nuzzled under his chin. The roughness of his chest hairs.

  The memory was so present in her mind of his lips against hers that she reached up to touch her own. They were not moist from his kiss. The odd astonishment brought her back to her surroundings. Heat flushed her face. She glanced over the edge of her magazine and shifted in her seat. Did anyone notice?

  All the patients were pregnant, except one who looked like she was someone’s mother. And none of them paid any attention to her or her fantasy. Grace swallowed. Surely her time would come and she would be sitting here, pregnant. She touched her flat belly. Be a blessing, so you can receive a blessing. Barbara’s words bounced around in her head. Could it be that simple? Somehow she seriously doubted it.

  She put down the magazine and picked up a clinic brochure. Dr. and Mrs. Gunnison’s professional image smiled up from the slender page. His half-American, half-Vietnamese parentage showed in his handsome face. Thin, almond-shaped eyes squeezed nearly closed with his big, friendly smile. Kim-Ly sat at her husband’s side, smiling just as warmly. Grace had seen them in these same dark-blue suit and poppy flower-print dress at church, although, it seemed funny for them not to be dressed in a white lab coat and scrubs. They were a lovely couple, and dear friends.

  She read the autobiographical testimony on the inside.

  Dr. Thomas Gunnison’s father, an American soldier, fell in love with a local gal while stationed in Vietnam. He was unable to marry her or bring her and his son to the United States, until twenty years later. At that time, the Vietnamese government finally allowed those children of American soldiers to leave their home country. Mr. Gunnison immediately arranged transportation for the love of his life and his son, along with his new daughter-in-law, Kim-Ly.

  Tom and Kim-Ly studied at Johns Hopkins University to receive medical degrees. He received an MD, and she received a BSRN. They then continued to build their practice in the area of Fertility Assistance.

  They became naturalized citizens when they were thirty years old. Their three children currently live…

  It was a lovely testimony. How nice of them to include it in their brochure.

  Kim-Ly called Grace’s name. Her head barely reached the top of the double hung saloon-style doors. Grace returned her smile and walked toward her. Kim-Ly wore emerald green scrubs and a stark white stethoscope hung around her neck. Her course, black hair had been twisted up in a bun with the ends flayed out in such a way to resemble a lotus flower with sprigs of grass behind it. Grace stared at the fascinating design as she led her to the procedure room, although Grace knew the way and the room.

  Grace handed her the beta-temp chart she had diligently updated each morning and stepped behind the modesty curtain. She undressed and put on the paper gown before stepping out.

  Kim-Ly leaned against the cabinet reviewing the entries on Grace’s chart. “This looks good. How are you doing?” She, too, spoke with the slightest Asian accent. She was older than Grace and at least six inches shorter. She pulled a fresh stream of paper over the examining table and returned to the cabinet, pen poised above her folder.

  Tears filled Grace’s eyes as she climbed onto the examination table. Her legs dangled over the padded edge. She folded her hands in her lap. “I don’t know.”

  Kim-Ly entered Grace’s Beta-temp readings into her patient chart and glanced up. “Oh, Grace. I know it’s hard. Dr. G and I pray for you all the time.”

  She put down the chart and slipped her pin into her front pocket. “Talk to me. Tell me what you’re feeling.”

  “I miss him.” Grace covered her face with her hands.

  “I know you do.” Kim-Ly wrapped loving arms around her.

  “You know, I stay busy! My freelance writing has morphed into ghost writing.”

  “Ghost writing?”

  “Yes, I write for people with good ideas but no time or real talent to write publishable proses. It pays well while letting me set my own hours. Like today...” She stared at her hands in her lap. “But I’m torn. I just don’t know if I’m doing the right thing…for the right reasons.”

  “What? The procedure?”

  “Yeah. What will people think, me getting pregnant two years after my husband died?”

  “Honey, it is not their business what you do. This is totally up to you. Now, I know this was what Chris and you wanted while he was still alive. To his last days, he wanted you to have a baby. But honestly, now that he is gone, it is completely up to you. Do you want to have a baby? Because you are the one who will raise this child alone. Well, we both know you are not alone. God is with you always, but you know what I mean.” Kim-Ly reached over to the cabinet and pulled out three tissues.

 
; Grace sniffed and gingerly wiped under her eyelashes. She blew her nose and lifted her eyes to intently meet Kim-Ly’s. “I want to have a baby, his baby. I want to have a part of him with me. But…is that the wrong reason? This will be the fourth procedure. Why am I not getting pregnant? Maybe God’s trying to tell me something. Sometimes I think I’m just wasting Chris’s insurance money. Maybe I should find a surrogate and let her carry his baby.

  “Oh, honey. These things take their own time. And so does God. His timing is perfect.”

  Grace cringed at her words. Chris’s passing was supposed to be God’s perfect timing. It hadn’t been so perfect for her.

  “We have to believe. You know, faith is believing in things unseen. Besides, remember when Abraham and Sarah became impatient. They did the same thing. Abraham had a son with Hagar—Ishmael. And things didn’t work out so well for the entire nation of Israel for their impatient action.” Kim-Ly sighed. “Have you talked to the Pastor about this?”

  Grace shook her head. “Not exactly, but I ran into Pastor Barbara yesterday, and she told me I’ve been going to God with need when I should go to Him with seed.”

  “Well, that might be true.” Kim-Ly snugly squeezed Grace’s wrist, listening to her pulse. Then she shined a light in her eyes, asked her to open her mouth, and stick out her tongue.

  Grace complied and continued talking. “So, I’m thinking about participating in the Christmas Eve Program. ‘Signing seeds’ Barbara called it. She said she received a word from God. ‘Be a blessing in order to receive a blessing.’ And she thinks this is the seed I need to plant. You know, participate in the program, be a blessing to the church, receive a blessing back.”

  “Maybe you should.” Kim-Ly patted Grace’s thigh. “May I pray with you now?”