Promptings

Roxanne Willems Snopek

I was taking advantage of a morning without the kids to finish a paper for my night class when my thoughts drifted to my friend Kate. I paused at my typewriter, thinking back. When was the last time we had gotten together? I had seen her at church a couple of weeks ago, but she had hustled out so fast after the service that I hadn't even had a chance to say Hi. I'd better give her a call, I thought--as soon as I'm done this page. . . . Of course, I forgot.

It was several days later when Kate popped into my head again. Jeremy had the flu, and Samantha was busy at a soccer tournament all weekend. I was too frazzled playing nurse and chauffeur to remember much else, but I did notice Kate wasn't in church.

"Strange, isn't it?" I mused to my husband over the linguine that night. "They've kinda dropped out of sight the past few months."

He reached down and fished the cordless phone out from underneath a newspaper. "Call 'em," he said as he pushed it across the table. "See if they can come over for coffee."

I stuck my tongue out at him while I punched in their number. He knows I'm a hopeless procrastinator. Anyway, there was no answer.

"I guess they're just busy, like us," I reassured myself as I loaded the dishwasher.

"I can't even remember what people without kids could be busy at!" Dan yelled from the door as the kids dragged him outside.

This, of course, was the crux of the matter, as I was to learn later. The next day, I tried calling Kate again, and again there was no answer, but this time the machine came on, and I left a message. What else can you do? I didn't want to seem pushy. Besides, she could call me, right?

A week later, the thought popped into my head again, like a bad weed: "Call Kate."

I actually groaned out loud. I really didn't have time to worry about her, and, besides, what's to worry about? Everyone goes through spells when her social life is on hold.

Nevertheless, I couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right with her. As I hunted for the phone under Jeremy's kindergarten pictures, one in particular caught my attention. It portrayed me (with a gargantuan head and purple hair), my husband (gargantuan head and no hair), Sam and Jer, all holding hands and grinning wildly. I smiled and set that one aside for framing. I wish Kate had kids, too, I thought with a sigh. Maybe that's what's keeping us apart. I found the phone (buried beneath Sam's jacket this time) and curled up on the couch as I dialed. I really hope she's in!

At Kate's house, the phone rang twice, three times. Just as I was about to hang up, she answered. Her voice was scarcely recognizable. She sounded weak and far away. When I told her how concerned I'd been, she began to cry. "Oh," her voice broke, and she took several deep, shaky breaths. "I've been wanting to talk to you. . . . " I waited, then quietly she continued, "I was pregnant, but . . . the baby died."

That afternoon, as Kate and I held each other and wept, I thought about how easily our friendship could have slipped away. Thank God for His promptings!

This thought-provoking fictional story is by Roxanne Willems Snopek, a member of Northview Community Church in Abbotsford, B.C.

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