Changing Perspectives Chance Meeting on

¶ … Changing perspectives [...] chance meeting on the street that leaves two very distinct impressions. People react differently to situations because they have different perspectives, outlooks, and beliefs. To one person, a young, clearly unwed mother would be a cause for admiration, because she was attempting to raise a child alone, against the odds. To another, she might be a sinner who had a child out of wedlock. Still another might see her as a pitiful person who needed help. It all depends on the person's background, perspective, upbringing, beliefs, and culture.

To some people, this young woman would be a whore, while to others she could be a hero. It all depends on the perspective and the person's compassion and beliefs. I saw her from the Starbuck's window, where I sat drinking my latte and making notes on my computer. She was tiny, petite, a real waif of a blonde with long hair, a baggy top, jeans, and a baby stroller. She didn't look old enough to have a baby, so at first, I thought it might be her baby sister.

She pushed the stroller toward the door, and a guy waiting in line actually pushed it open for her as she entered the warm coffee house. She seemed to attract that kind of attention, some how. She was beautiful, but in a gentle, very childlike and innocent way. She settled into a table with the baby, taking him out of the stroller and playing with him as she waited for her order.

As she and the baby interacted, it was clear she was the baby's mother - the way she held him, protected him, and fished a bottle out of the oversized bag she carried made it clear this baby was hers and no other. What was her story?, I wondered to myself. She was so young, I wondered how she managed to take care of the baby, she didn't look like she was even out of high school.

Dark circles under her eyes indicated she didn't sleep much with a small baby, and the empty ring finger of her left hand seemed to indicate the father wasn't around. Sad, I thought, as I turned back to my note taking. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her claim her coffee, and then resettle in at the table with a steaming cup and a magazine. The baby dozed in the stroller, and everything seemed fine.

I admired her somehow, for making a life for the baby and herself, and bucking the odds when single motherhood was difficult and demanding. I assumed, just from her actions and appearance, she was a single mother, and it did not bother me at all. I saw though, that I might be in the minority when three high-school age girls entered the shop. Loud, laughing, and demanding, they commanded the attention of the shop from the moment they entered.

The girl glanced up when they entered, then quickly turned her back to the group. Too late, one of the girls had spotted her. Ohhh, just LOOK who's here!" she seemed to shout loud enough for the entire coffee house to hear. "It's Amanda, and LOOK what she's got!" She sauntered over to the table, and peered closely into the stroller. "My God, just look at that! it's a baby! Gee, Amanda is that why you quit school so suddenly. We only could have guessed.

One day you were on the squad, and the next day you were gone. We had to replace you with an alternate, you know. Oh, and we won State without you." The girl didn't wait for a reply, she just flounced back to her friends, who were laughing and giggling as they placed their coffee orders. Amanda" acted like she hadn't heard any of the conversation, but as I watched; a tear slid slowly down her cheek and plopped onto the magazine she was reading.

Silence seemed to fall over the entire coffee house as the girls took their coffees and left. It seemed like every eye was on the young girl with the stroller, watching for her reaction. I noticed an older couple in the corner eyeing her with anger or disgust. Dressed conservatively, they seemed to be angry with her for some reason. The woman leaned across the table, whispering something to the man, and they both picked up their newspapers and left.

As they walked by the young girl's table, the woman made a point to look away and say just loud enough to be heard. "Shouldn't be seen in public." The girl winced, but didn't move. I knew their type. They walked outside, got into a new Lexus, and drove away. I noticed a bumper sticker on the car, "Community Baptist Church," 'See you this Sunday!'" as they stopped at a traffic light down the street.

I shook my head, and wondered why people had to be so judgmental and officious. I saw another young woman glance at the girl several times. She seemed to make a decision in her mind, and then she stood, dug in her purse for something, and walked to the girl's table. She leaned over and said something. The girl nodded ever so slightly, and the woman sat down. She leaned toward the girl, talked earnestly for a few moments, and then handed her something.

The girl never said a word, just looked at the woman with dark eyes, and watched as she stood and walked away. The girl opened her.