Unfortunately for me, Delores only stayed at our school for one year. We remained friends even after she left, but I always had the feeling that she was constantly trying to identify who she was in our world. Her brother had been declared MIA during the Korean war and that seemed to be one of many pieces of her history that seemed to weigh heavily on her mind and kept her from staying in one place for very long.
As with any good book, movie, or life, several “story lines” were developing during this time of my life. Along with my teaching and deciding to make education my career, Michael and I were continuing to try to have children and were actually looking into foreign adoption. And then there was Fannie White. Fannie came to our school to take Delores’ position. She was a big black woman with the gentlest approach to life. Fannie was older than Delores and had true “mammy” appeal. She seemed to have missed the Civil Rights Movement and held herself in constant submission. Her sole purpose in life seemed to be to serve others (especially our students who she referred to as ‘God’s precious angels.’)
Fannie and I became fast friends. She and Pat worked with Joan and I everyday, interconnecting our programs and our students. We experimented with teaching larger groups together, smaller groups, ability groups, gender groups, and whole groups. Everyday seemed to be filled with new ideas and my job became a college campus—a place for me to learn through experimentation. The administration basically let us do what we wanted as long as we: a) didn’t require extra funds and b) didn’t bother them.
As I said, Michael and I were still trying to have children and had lived through much of the “infertility” testing. I had suffered at least two miscarriages and the doctor thought there had possibly been four or five. We had started the foreign adoption process in January of my second year of teaching, but I had been confirmed pregnant the next month, so we had to stop the process. Then I miscarried in March so we started the process all over in May. In the four years we had been trying to have children, I went through the gamut of “God, GIVE ME CHILDREN, PLEASE!” to “God, help me to accept NOT having children.” I was astounded that I couldn’t seem to get pregnant. Of course, we had also tolerated the amazing amount of advice received when people found out we were struggling with infertility. And yes, I have to admit we tried a lot of the advice—boxers, not briefs (let the sperm breathe), hold your legs in the air for 20 min. after sex, and a lot of other “interesting” remedies.
My favorite remedy was when a girl about my age brought a bluegreen jacket to church and told me to wear it. “My mom wore it right before she got pregnant the first time and she had four kids, I wore it when I wanted to have kids and I have three—I really think it might work for you, Lori.” I graciously said “thank you” and tossed the jacket on my bed. When I came home from church, my cat was laying on the jacket sleeping. I angrily tossed her off the jacket fearing the possibility of having kittens to deal with and then I stuffed the jacket in the garbage. So, when Fannie found out we were trying to have children, I was naturally apprehensive when she showed up one day at school and wanted to talk with me privately.
Our classes were combined in Pat’s classroom, so Fannie and I went next door.
“Miss Lori,” she said, “I know you and yore sweet husban’ wan to have kids, so I brought sumpin to help. Let me see your belly.”
I lifted my shirt, barely exposing my belly not daring to disrespect this wonderful woman by expressing any doubt in her beliefs. She took a small vial of oil and put some on a Kleenex and laid the tissue on my belly.
“Oh sweet Lord,” she prayed, “You knows Miss Lori and her husban’ wan to have babies and we pray, Oh sweet Lord, you would look upon them and give em’ sum babies to love. Amen, Amen, and Amen.”
Goosebumps ran down my arms as I opened my eyes and saw sincere tears streaming down Miss Fannie’s face.
“Thank you, Miss Fannie.” I said, hugging her tightly.
“Thas okay, Miss Lori. Our sweet Lord, he work in mysterious ways.”
We went back to our students and I said a short breathe prayer of thanks for this wonderful, gentle woman and her small vial of oil.
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