Francine Rivers - Her Daughter’s Dream

They stood side by side looking out at the ocean. Carolyn felt a fluttering sensation-angel wings. She put her hands over her abdomen. Boots saw the movement and turned to her. “The quickening?” Carolyn laughed for the first time in months. It sounded odd to her ears. Boots laughed with her.

Carolyn’s heart pounded during AA meetings. She could feel the tension grow inside her. Sitting on her hands, she kept her head down, listening, soaking in the words.

One evening the silence lasted so long, she broke out in a sweat. She knew it was her turn to open up, but didn’t know if she could speak a coherent sentence.

She took a breath and confessed she started drinking to deal with the stress of attending UCB. She drank more when her brother was sent to Vietnam, then started smoking pot with friends while protesting the war.

Everyone listened. No one judged her. Several came over to talk with her after the meeting, sharing similar stories.

“First time is usually hardest,” Boots told her on the way home.

It took another month before she could talk about Charlie. She’d stayed drunk or stoned the year after he died. “I can only remember bits and pieces; most I’d rather forget…” She cried when she told them about Chel.

Mom called again. Carolyn might not be able to talk with her mother, but Boots never had a problem. “She’s filling out, has a nice basketball growing.” Boots took pictures of Carolyn. When December rolled around, Mom and Dad sent money. So did Oma. Carolyn wrote and thanked them. Boots took her to the mall. As they wandered through the stores, Boots picked up a sweater. “Good godfrey! What a price!” She folded the sweater back onto the table. When she wasn’t looking, Carolyn bought it for her.

Boots cried when she opened the box Christmas morning and found the red cashmere sweater. “You must have spent all your Christmas money on this.”

“You like it, don’t you?”

Boots put the sweater back in the box. “I love it, of course. But now you listen. Your mom and dad have been sending me money every month. I never asked for a penny, but they insisted. And then you go and buy this. I should take it back to the store.”

“Please don’t.”

“Okay. I won’t.” She grinned, eyes brimming. “I’ll throw you a shower instead.”

Oma and Mom sent their regrets, inclement weather keeping them from making the long drive south. Oma had a bad cold, and Mom was keeping an eye on her.

A half-dozen friends of Boots showed up bearing gifts, most of which turned out to be for Carolyn and not the baby. A peach suit, white shell blouse, a pair of taupe heels and purse. “For job interviews.” A jogging suit “to get back in shape after the baby.” A classic camel-hair coat.

They couldn’t have been kinder, though their expectation was clear: adoption was the best option. Only Boots gave her money to spend as she wanted.

Braxton Hicks contractions came often. Carolyn knew she didn’t have much time left. She cried more now than she had during the earlier months, and she dreamed of sleeping in Golden Gate Park, lying on a sleeping bag beneath a black plastic lean-to. When she awakened, she reminded herself of Jesus speaking in that loving voice, His hand upon her, the tiny starlike flowers blooming in the grass, and dawn coming.

Mom finally asked the dreaded question. “Have you decided what to do?”

Carolyn noted her mother didn’t ask what she wanted to do. Her eyes burned. She swallowed hard and wiped tears from her cheeks. “I guess.” Give up her baby to someone else to rear. Everyone seemed to think that best, except Boots, who said things had a way of working out. Carolyn didn’t see how. Had they worked out for Chel?

“You can stay with me as long as you want, Carolyn. You want to keep the baby, we’ll work things out so you can.”

Carolyn felt ashamed. Chel had paid for everything after they’d left Berkeley. She didn’t want someone else paying her way now. It was just another way to run and hide from the real world. She had to grow up sometime, had to bear the consequences of her actions, no matter how painful. And wouldn’t her baby be better off with someone else, someone less screwed up? someone who could offer a home and love? In three weeks, more or less, she’d give birth. She had to stop dreaming.

She called the adoption agency. They said they’d draw up papers. She cried all the way back to Boots’s house.

Carolyn went out for a long walk alone the next morning. She had memorized the Serenity Prayer and said it over and over.

“A package came for you last night,” Boots told her over breakfast. “I forgot all about it when you came home so upset. I put it on your bed.”

Boots had sliced open the cardboard box. Carolyn lifted out the big pink- and blue-papered box. When she opened the card, she recognized her mother’s neat handwriting.

Dad and I hope this helps you make your decision. We love you.

They’d sent a baby car seat.

My dearest Carolyn,

I had a quiet Christmas with Bernhard, Elizabeth, and Eddie. I’m in Truckee now, enjoying snow-covered mountains, remembering the days I took long walks in the Alps with my friend, Rosie. She has been my faithful friend through all these years. She knows all my faults and failures and still loves me. May Boots prove such a friend to you.

I’m in no hurry to go home. All I do is sit alone in the cottage. Your mother is working long hours at the hospital. Your dad comes home and goes right to work building the retaining walls for the terraces he has planned. Rikka wants me to come to New York City in the spring. A gallery will be showing her work.

You and my first great-grandchild are in my constant prayers. God grant you peace in whatever decision you make. I love you. That will never change. And I will love your child, too, no matter what happens.

Life has its twists and turns, Carolyn. As for me, I am surrendering all to Jesus and trust Him to make it all straight in the end. Whatever you may think now, God promises to use everything that happens for His good purpose in making you into the woman He designed you to be. Just love Him. Lean on Him. Remember He loved you first and always. As do I.

Love,

Oma

1971

Labor started in the middle of the night on February 6. Boots acted as Carolyn’s coach. Boots washed the baby and wrapped her. The moment Carolyn held her newborn, she roused from exhaustion and wept with joy. She fell in love for the first time. Her daughter fit perfectly in her arms. Carolyn felt a tug at her breast as tiny fingers closed around her thumb. God had given her this child the night she had almost thrown her life into the sea. Tangible evidence of His grace.

Boots’s eyes shone with tears over her surgical mask. “Well, you can’t name her Charlie now, can you?”

“Her name is May Flower Dawn.” She knew it sounded like a hippy name, but she didn’t care. She couldn’t call her the only other name that fit-Epiphany.

She’d conceived the baby the night before she saw Jesus, and she would always consider this child an undeserved gift from God.

Mom called every few days to check on things. “Everything is ready.” After a month, she lost patience. “It’s time to come home, Carolyn. Boots has done enough.”

May Flower Dawn slept most of the way. Carolyn stopped every couple of hours to nurse and change diapers. When she arrived home, Mom and Dad came outside. Oma came out of the cottage. Before Carolyn could get out of the car, her mother opened the passenger door and lifted May Flower Dawn from the car seat.