Tonight I went to a baby shower. I had carefully selected a gift of baby bath items, and I was excited to go. Typically, I don't like baby showers. It's very odd to sit in a room full of women chattering about their children and the pending birth and listen to them dispense advice, when I don't have a single thing to contribute.
But this was different. For one, I had never met the woman in my life. She is a young woman who recently immigrated to the states from Africa with her husband. She's expecting her first baby in a few weeks, and they have nothing. She has been attending our church as an investigator, and so a group of women got together and decided to throw her a shower.
This is why I love being LDS (aka Mormon). I love the fact that twenty women, most of whom did not know this sweet, shy sister, would open their homes, hearts and wallets to provide for someone who was so different from the rest of us. I love the camaraderie. I love knowing that I have an extended "family" of sorts, who would do the same thing for me, if needed.
The whole thing was incredibly overwhelming for the honoree. There is somewhat of a language barrier - she speaks only a little thickly accented English, and she hasn't been stateside long enough to learn, use or appreciate slang or casual English. Everyone was careful to include her in the pre-party conversations, stopping to explain things when she looked confused, and explaining traditions surrounding baby showers, which, not surprisingly, aren't common practice in Africa.
When she sat in the corner rocker to open her gifts, she was overwhelmed. For a brief moment she appeared to be a deer in the headlights, her warm, dark eyes searching for something that wasn't overwhelmingly foreign. In a room full of Caucasian women, she was the only one with dark skin. I dare say none of us had ever traveled to Ethiopia, and the only visible thing anyone had in common with her was another expectant mother.
She tentatively reached for a gift, and began the 45-minute process of unwrapping onesies, bath items, diapers, wipes, clothes and toys. The hostess sat next to her and carefully explained what some of the items were used for, as well as translated what the term "onesie" meant. After each gift, the honoree looked straight at the person from whom she had received the gift, eyes bright, and said a simple, "thank you."
At the end, one of the women brought in a gently used car seat her son had just outgrown. Another woman rolled in a brand-new stroller on which some other women had gone in together to purchase. It was presented with a gift card for the leftover funds.
I would have paid money to be a fly on the wall when she got home to the small apartment she shares with her husband. How did she relate the excited, eager women who dined on veggie trays, mini quiche, fruit and brownies and sought to understand more about her? How did she explain the mountain of gifts she received - all delivered by people truly yearning to make her transition to a new home, a new country and new motherhood a little easier? How did she explain how she felt?
I sat there, thoroughly enjoying myself, and my heart sang. I felt that warm, tingly sensation you get when your soul communes with heaven. I was heartened to feel so much goodness - the pending birth of a new baby, a group of women reaching out to help someone else, a new friend. I don't know what this young mother felt or if she understood the world of goodness she brought into our lives last night, but I hope so. I hope she knows that she has been embraced by one of the greatest group of women I've ever met. A group of noble women who immediately embraced me when I moved into the congregation last year, who have proven to be smart, sophisticated, funny, charitable and warm-hearted.
It's times like these when I truly realize just how much I enjoy the bond of sisters that is often forged among LDS women. It reminds me of the passage of scripture, "I was a stranger and ye took me in." I don't know how the young expectant mother felt, but I know that I am grateful for the little bit of heaven in which I was able to bask tonight.
