One rainy October evening, the evening service was coming to an end. There weren’t many people left in the church. By the time the rain had turned to sleet, most of the congregation had decided not to brave the weather.
The church slowly emptied as people shuffled out, the doors swinging open now and then, sending drafts that made the candle flames flicker and dance, trailing thin wisps of smoke. Finally, the sound of shoes shuffling across the tiled floor faded, and only Natalie remained.
She stepped out from behind the counter of the little church shop and walked through the empty space, snuffing out candles and brushing wax droplets off the holders with a small brush. Then she extinguished the oil lamps by the icons. The dim glow from the streetlamps barely pierced the narrow, frosted windows. Only one bulb above the candle counter still burned, its light catching the gilded frames of the nearest icons.
From the side chapel stepped Father Victor, his cassock hidden under a black coat.
“Has the caretaker arrived yet?” he asked as he reached Natalie.
“Not yet. Need me to pass on a message?”
“No. See you tomorrow.” He nodded goodbye and headed for the door.
Natalie fetched a bucket of water and a mop, starting to wash the floor. She loved coming into a clean church in the morning. Just then, another draft swept through, and the heavy door closed softly behind her. She turned—the caretaker was there, crossing himself as he stepped inside, nodding at Natalie before vanishing into his little room. She’d never once heard him speak, though Father Victor insisted he wasn’t mute.
When she finished, Natalie put away the bucket, got her coat, and took one last look around—checking every icon, murmuring, “Saint Nicholas, pray for us,” “Holy Mother, help us,” “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God…”
“I’m heading out!” she called to the caretaker.
Her voice echoed under the vaulted ceiling.
She flicked off the light and pushed open the heavy door. Standing on the steps, she listened—no footsteps, just the clank of the latch as the caretaker locked up. Then she heard a small squeak nearby.
She looked down, expecting to see a puppy or kitten sheltering from the rain under the awning—but instead, there was a pale bundle, faintly visible in the dark, and the sound was coming from inside it.
“A baby? Who on earth left you here?” She bent down and lifted the tiny bundle, peeling back the blanket to see a scrunched-up little face.
“Good Lord, what kind of mother would abandon you in weather like this? And how did no one even notice?”
*What do I do? Knock on the church door? Call the police, an ambulance?* That would’ve been the right thing—but on impulse, Natalie decided to take the baby home first, then call Father Victor for advice.
She hadn’t taken two steps when a woman rushed at her from the dark.
“Give her back!” she shrieked, snatching the bundle from Natalie.
From her voice, the “heartless mother” was barely more than a girl.
“Is she yours? Abandoning a child is a sin—she could’ve fallen ill!” Natalie scolded.
“I didn’t abandon her, I just stepped away for a moment!” the young woman choked out between sobs.
“Why not take her inside the church then?” Natalie softened slightly.
The girl didn’t answer, turning to leave with her baby.
“Have you got anywhere to go?” Natalie called after her.
The woman slowed, glancing back.
“Didn’t think so,” Natalie muttered. “Wait!” She hurried after her. “You’ve nowhere to go, have you? Look, come with me. I live nearby. The baby’s fussing—probably wet or hungry. And you’re soaked through. It’s no weather to be out with a child. Warm up, and we’ll figure out what to do next. Don’t be afraid,” she added, sensing the girl tense.
Reluctantly, she followed. No other choice, clearly. The whole way, Natalie chattered—telling her about her late husband, how she’d never had children of her own, how a guest was no trouble at all. No belongings? That was fine—her neighbour’s daughter had a baby a few months back; she’d borrow some nappies and clothes. She talked and talked, steering the girl’s thoughts away from despair.
“Here we are. Come in.” Natalie unlocked the building door, letting the girl and baby go first. “Sixth floor.”
In the lift, she noticed the young mother’s clothes were drenched, her lips blue with cold. *Oh, good grief.* Inside the flat, Natalie flicked on the light.
“Here, let me hold her while you get out of those wet things. Slippers are by the door. Lay her on the sofa.” She handed the bundle back and started peeling off her own coat.
When she returned, the girl had unwrapped her daughter—tiny wrinkled fists waving, little mouth opening. Natalie’s heart swelled.
“She’s hungry. Cover her up—I’ll pop next door for nappies.”
“Lynn, lend me a few nappies and some baby clothes? Just till tomorrow,” she asked her neighbour.
“You’ve got a child now?” Lynn raised her eyebrows.
“Family visiting—distant cousin. Had her bag stolen at the station,” Natalie lied.
“Come in—I’ll grab some things.” Lynn returned with a full bag.
“This is too much!”
“Nappies and outgrown baby clothes. Take it—better than tossing it.”
Back home, she found the girl nursing.
“You’ve got milk? Thank goodness. Formula’s so pricey. I’ve got nappies and clothes—we’ll change her after. I’ll put the kettle on.” In the kitchen, Natalie mused—this wasn’t just chance. The Lord had brought this girl to her for a reason.
Once fed and changed, the baby slept soundly on the sofa.
“Come eat. Fresh chicken soup, made this morning. Tea with milk—better for your own milk supply. What’s your name?”
“Lydia.”
“I’m Natalie. We’ll manage, Lydia. And your daughter?”
“Veronica.”
“Beautiful name.” Natalie sighed. “Eat first. Then you can tell me what happened. I won’t judge—we’ve all sinned. I came to church to atone for mine.”
Warmed by the soup and tea, Lydia confessed—how she’d left the hospital…
“I didn’t want to abandon her. I shouldn’t have taken her at all. The dorm only let me stay till the birth. Where could I go? I walked to the bridge. Thought I’d jump with her, just… end it.” She sobbed. “But near the church, my feet wouldn’t move. I couldn’t leave her—so I put her by the door, hoping someone would find her quickly, then… I was going to the river.”
“Not from around here? Parents?”
“They divorced years ago. Mum remarried recently. I’ve a younger sister. And now me with a baby…”
“Does the father know?”
“He knew I was pregnant. Gave me money for an abortion. I couldn’t do it. Got scared. Went back to the dorm. I was a student—third year…” *Was.* “Later, I wished I’d gone through with it. No money, nowhere to live…” Tears filled her eyes. “No one wants us.”
“Hush, you’ll wake her. Stay with me. I’m alone—always wanted children. God sent you both. Won’t take a penny. Sort out your studies—take a leave. Good thing you came to the church. He never abandons His own.”
“I thought he loved me… but he never called, never asked if I’d… done it.” Lydia broke down.
“It’ll be alright now. Tomorrow, I’ll speak with Father Victor—wise man, he’ll advise us.”
“Thank you,” Lydia whispered. “But… I don’t believe in God.”
“Many don’t—until they’re desperate. Who saved you tonight? He sent me to you—and you to me—to teach us love, forgiveness, help. You didn’t end her life—that was His will. Now live—both of you—for each other.”
Days passed. Veronica grew. Lydia helped around the house, sometimes bringing her to church, learning faith’s basics. By the next autumn, Veronica was walking, calling Natalie “Gran.” Lydia re-enrolled.
Fifteen years later…
“Mum, does this need taking in at the waist?” Veronica twirled in her prom dress.
“Don’t be silly—it’s perfect. Shame Gran isn’t here.” Lydia hugged her.
Natalie had passed the year before, dying quietly during evening service. Lydia mourned her like a mother. Now she volunteered at the church shop, just as Natalie had.
Veronica aced her exams, then enrolled in medical school like her mum. She thrived—until suddenly growing distant.
“Got a crush?” Lydia teased.
“Mum! He’s *old*.”Veronica hesitated, then whispered, “It’s just… he looks at me the way you said Dad once looked at you.” and the weight of years hung silently between them.
