I know there is a woman in your church who watches you like a mother hen. I know she gets her feathers ruffled every time she sees you talk to a child or openly admire someone’s baby or quietly tear up at a baptism. I know she corners you in the narthex before the service and coos and clucks about this chick-producing fertility treatment and that miracle doctor. I know she pecks at your nerves with stories of distant cousins who get pregnant at 43 and petty assurances that you will, too.

I also know she cares for you.

So, don’t be a chicken. Take a risk and be vulnerable. Say the hard words.

“I can tell that you care for me and that you want to help me. Do you know what would really help? Pray for me and help me be content with the person God has made me today. Even if that means I am barren.”

You never know. With a little, loving guidance, this mother hen might end up becoming your fiercest ally in the coop.