All us wedding guests stood as the bride made her entrance. I looked over at a woman across the aisle from where I sat on the groom’s side. I’d noticed her at the bridal shower as well, but never got around to introducing myself—or was it reintroducing myself? She looked so familiar I could have sworn I’d met her before. Something about her—
Of course! She’d hardly changed in the 25 years since our brief encounter. I was walking in the park with my infant nephews when a stranger peeped into the carriage. “Twins!” she said. “Are they yours?”
“They’re my nephews,” I said. Then I surprised myself by adding, “I can’t have children.”
Children were all I thought about in those days. I’d been married nearly eight years and trying to have a baby almost that long. After many tests, doctors told me it wasn’t going to happen. The adoption agency said we were in for a long wait. But none of this was something a stranger needed to know!
The woman didn’t seem at all uncomfortable by my confession. Only kind. “I’ll pray for you,” she said.
Her words were a comfort. But I was shocked when—only two weeks later—I found out I was pregnant. That was some prayer! My son, now 25, grew up hearing the story of the woman who prayed for him to be born.
At the reception I found my chance to approach her. “Excuse me…” I said.
She didn’t hesitate: “We have a connection, don’t we?”
The best connection of all: prayer.
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