These days, I see God's love in the smallest things. One morning, while watching a praise and worship tape, I marveled as my two year old daughter worshipped the Lord. She blew on her toy clarinet, moving with the music, caught up in the wind of His power. It was simply beautiful. The Lord immersed me in the flood of His love with my baby. Looking at this scene, it was hard to believe that it was not so long ago that the thought of even having a child made me cringe.
As the first born girl of seven, the last thing I wanted was a child. My main job was to help my mother with my siblings. I changed and washed diapers, potty trained, cooked, cleaned, helped with homework, and combed hair. As young adulthood overtook me, all I wanted was complete freedom. I wanted freedom to do what I wanted, when I wanted, and how I wanted.
Then suddenly my freedom collided with the brick wall of my actions’ consequences. At age twenty-two, I was unmarried and pregnant. The last thing I wanted was a baby. Just the thought of night cries, bottle runs, and tiny helplessness made me nauseous. I decided to terminate the pregnancy. I wanted that parasite out of my body.
Yes, I called the life growing within me a parasite. I did not know the Lord. He was just that white man on the picture with the white lambs under his arms to me. I hated myself and everyone else, so how could I feel anything for this child? I entered the abortion clinic, wanting a quick and easy solution to my collision. The counselor was all too happy to explain that this was not a human life, but merely a glob of tissue that they could easily clean out of my body. This would be a simple procedure, she said. She took my money and covered my fear with smiles and undressed me with deceit. I submitted myself and "this glob" to the abortionist's hand. Afterwards, they served me tea and crackers. I ate, not realizing the high price I would later pay for that snack.
I felt great relief as I exited the clinic, vowing never to go through its doors again. In a few months, I moved away from the Washington, D.C. area, hoping to start a new life, not realizing the devastating blow I dealt to my body and spirit.
Shortly after arriving in North Carolina, I discovered I was pregnant again. This time, things were different. I moved back home with my parents to attend school. The pressure of moving back home after being on my own for four years was great. The atmosphere was such that I could not expose my condition without risking my sanity. This backward move stripped me of any dignity I had. Pain and humiliation were my main menu items during those times. I could barely survive so how could I even think of bringing a baby into that environment.
Again, I went to the abortionist. This time, something went wrong. I remember hearing a strange smacking sound during the procedure. When the doctor asked the nurse to assist him, I tried to sit up to see what was happening. The nurse slammed me back down on the table. I felt sick. The results of this visit were a suicide attempt and a deep self loathing I would be unable to shake for many years. This was payment for the second helping of tea and crackers.
Years later, after receiving the Lord, I discovered that I was grieving for those lost children. I was only having one or two menstrual cycles each year. I discovered, at that time that I had a physically closed womb. My doctor told me that she believed that my body protected itself and a membrane now covered my cervix. She wanted to surgically remove the membrane. By this time in my life, I was a Believer. Since my doctor wanted the surgery, I had to tell my husband about the abortions. After hearing the details, he said that no man would cut me. If God closed my womb, then He would open it. I rejoiced, although, I knew in my heart, that he wanted to be a father. However, I still did not want children, so his answer pleased me.
Many years later, just after my fortieth birthday, I had a change of heart. I turned to the Lord and He did something miraculous for me. My husband really wanted children. So I put my selfish desires aside, fell on my face before the Lord and asked Him to open my womb.
After 11 years of being barren, within two months of that prayer, I discovered I was pregnant. At age 41, my precious Father allowed me to give birth to a strong, handsome son. At age 43, He again rained down His grace and gave my husband and me a daughter of the King. He restored my lost children to me. Tears of unspeakable joy fill my eyes when tiny arms encircle my neck. With each hug, fragments of yesterday’s torment vanish. With each kiss, healing balm fills my once broken heart.
This is the depth of His love. He restored everything taken by the darkness of my past. He shined His light on the hidden treasures buried in my soul and gave me a future and a hope. He enveloped me in the sea of His love and washed me in the wave of His awesome forgiveness. My cup overflows with promises for my future. He anointed me with oil, draped me in royal robes, and placed a crown upon my head. I am His daughter, a daughter of the King.
His word says He removes our sin far from us. Because of His mercy, I stand unashamed of my past. Because of His loving-kindness, I pray for those caught in abortion’s deadly trap. I pray that like me, they will one day stand in the mighty flow of God’s love and not consume another snack of tea and crackers. Today, I stand waiting to wipe fear’s crumbs from hurting mouths and dry lips, dripping with guilt’s tea. I stand waiting to love someone into the Kingdom!