The Lutheran Ladies' Circle: Plucking One String by Kris Knorr, Barb Froman Page B

had gotten out to admire the view. The parking brake gave way. As the jeep slowly edged over the cliff, Bill’s mother jumped in and threw him to safety.
    “She made it out?
    Kay shook her head. “She sacrificed herself so her son could live.”
    The silence spun out. Kay finally interrupted their thoughts. “It makes you wonder why anyone would die for another. Especially a stranger.”
    “Love.”
    “It’s unfathomable.” Kay rubbed a furry sock between her fingers. “Unmerited love. It changes you. Makes you want to do the best you can. Perhaps it’s some small way of saying ‘thank you for saving me.’”
    Sobs shook Allie’s body.
    Kay stared. “It worked out okay. Bill grew up to be a wonderful man.” She patted Allie’s leg. “I just meant it’s impossible to truly understand grace then do anything you want—like be an axe murderer.”
    Allie clung to the ladder, bawling even harder. In-between shuddering breaths, she gasped, “I’m such a bad mother.”
    “Come here.” Kay guided her down. “Let’s sit in the sanctuary.” Allie shook her head.
    “It’s a sanctuary , a place of refuge. You don’t have to talk. I’ve cried buckets in there. It’s better than the women’s restroom, believe me.” Kay herded her through the door.
    Beams of sunlight shafted through the stained glass windows. The light of the eternal candle flickered in its red vase. Squeezing Allie’s hand, Kay leaned back in the padded pew and closed her eyes, letting the hushed serenity creep over her. Occasionally she heard a whimper next to her. Smells of old hymnals, extinguished candles, and former floral arrangements hung in the air. Kay had forgotten what it was like to let the sounds of the church settle around her. The silence was different than being alone in her car or by herself in the middle of the night. This silence was peaceful.
    After some time, Allie took back her hand and wiped her face. “Johnny has an old second-hand hamster. One morning it didn’t move, so I rubbed its little chest. I stuck a straw in its mouth and puffed. It came back to life. No tears. No kid drama. About once a week I had to CPR the hamster, then every day.
    “I couldn’t keep sneaking around resurrecting him, so I thought the humane thing would be to end it. I put Hairy in a bag and attached it to the muffler.” She glanced at Kay. “The bag caught on fire—in the garage. Five hundred dollars of damage.”
    “Oh crap,” Kay said.
    “What kind of mother am I? I’m a hamster killer. And I don’t want to be pregnant again.”
    “You are?”
    Allie nodded, tears trailing down her cheeks. “It’s selfish, but I was looking forward to a change. For a few precious hours, both kids will be in school next year. I was going to have time to myself. Now I’ll be tied to diapers, night feedings, two little ones, and a baby. I’ll be trapped again. Then I feel guilty for feeling this way.”
    Kay nodded. “I had a friend who called it: I-Want-To-Read-A-Book-Without-Pictures syndrome. I called it: I’m-Tired-of-Being-Stepped-Spit-and-Pooped-On.”
    “You don’t think I’m bad?” Allie asked.
    “I once considered leaving my kid in the baby-food aisle. I figured anyone shopping for kid-chow must have a baby and would know how to take care of another one.”
    “You didn’t.”
    “It seems funny because now I’m worried about my kids leaving me . You’re normal, Allie. You’re stressed, but it’s a normal thing.”
    “I still feel like an awful mother.”
    “You should talk to my ex-mother-in-law. She’d tell you about my failures. You’d feel better in a jiffy.”
    “But you never wished you weren’t pregnant.”
    “I use a different, more sinister technique. I wish my kids’ lives away. When they were born, I wished they were older so they’d sleep through the night. Then I wanted them a few months older so they’d be potty trained. If they were just a few years older, they could dress themselves. Then I add