0134

I sat in church today, distracted by the four digits repeating in my head. Zero. One. Three. Four. I check to make sure that is the right number...again. It is. Zero one three four. The music is playing, the words are on the screen, but I'm not reading them and I'm not singing along. Instead I watch a different screen blinking a four-digit number in red LEDs. 1036. That isn't my number, not even close. I check anyway just to be sure and wonder for a brief moment if it was typed in wrong.

The offering baskets pass, but offering is Jessica's job, so I pass it without breaking my stare at the tiny screen.

The pastor is back, it must be time for service. He thinks it would be good for everyone to read a few verses together. He thought wrong. Reading a verse means I have to avert my eyes from the screen, which means I might miss it. I have to be ready in case my number shows up. There is no predicting it so I must be vigilant.

He is a great speaker and amazing teacher of God's word and God's love, but his words are replaced in my head with zero, one, three, four. Rome was a big city. I knew that already. Are the screens working? Did anyone see 0134 pop up? I don't think so, but perhaps while I blinked? Are we sure this screen is working? His son is on a cross-country bike trip. Catholics serve lots of spaghetti. Zero one three four? Zero one. Three four. Zero. One three four. I check my wrist again. Yup, that is the number. I hope they didn't show it while I was looking down to triple check. The message today is about hospitality. Hospitality means 'Love of Strangers.' Got it. Zero one three four. Zero one three four. Zero one...A NUMBER FLASHES AGAIN. 2076. Ugh. I wonder to myself if I really want my number to come up. Part of me says no, but an equal and much louder part screams, YES.

The sermon ends, and we're out. I scan down the isles to see which way will get me out the fastest. Young people are good for that. We're out in a flash, not time for fellowship now, gotta go. I make a beeline towards the nursery. I assume Jess is somewhere behind me and hope she can keep up. I come to my daughters classroom and scan the floor and strangers' arms for her. There she is, near the back. The nice elderly lady holding her must recognize me. She smiles and twists Olivia to see me. Then she grabs Olivia's diaper bag and brings her to the half wall.

Before handing her over though, she needs to officially confirm she is mine. She pulls up her leg to match up the tag secured around her ankle with the one on my wrist. Hers and mine both read the same...0134.

Whew. Relief. My baby is back in my arms.