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A mother's testimony: How she revealed her abortion to her children.
It has actually been four days since I told Amanda and Christian. I have been watching them closely for signs of any fallout or upset. Actually I have been watching for signs that they would start to mistrust me, or even loathe me for my confession.
Their mom did what I know in their Pro-Life minds has become the unthinkable – aborting a child, my child and their sibling.
The night that set the stage for the confession had all of the earmarks of a regular Wednesday. I had no intention, at least consciously of tackling this thing. A typical hurried dinner was being prepared, a snippet of family time would happen, and hopefully a race to the church for youth group would allow John and I to have some rare quiet time. The kids had been begging all day to stay home from Youth Group, but I had declared it mandatory. The kids even listed reasons why they didn’t want to go, but I discounted all of them, hoping so much for a quiet hour with my husband.
Dinner though, took longer and tasted better than I had planned. It was .07 minutes to the start of Youth Group, and we weren’t even finished eating. A trip to church was simply not materializing. Suddenly and amazingly, it seemed quite appropriate to capitalize on the moment and do “Devotions and Family Worship…” something my Grandfather always did, something lost on our generation, and something John and I muse about instituting on regular basis, but do rarely.
One child thought of lighting the table candles, casting a sweet warm glow on all of our faces. The other ran around our house collecting everyone’s bible and journals…even a bible trivia book. These excited preparations took seconds it seemed, and before we knew it we had unanimously decided to read about St. Paul, and landed on Philippians as our text. They were clearly thrilled with the prospect of staying home, but even happier to be spending family time together in the Word. My children LOVE Paul. They consider him brave, faithful and true. They have laughed about seeing Jesus first in heaven, Grandma Jane next elbowing Jesus out of the way, and then meeting St.Paul!
It was at that moment, admiring Paul again for his words in Scripture, that I asked Amanda and Christian, “Tell me what you know about Paul before he converted to Christianity. What kind of a guy was he?” They remembered him primarily as a persecutor of Christians. They knew he was present at the stoning of Stephen. And they knew that Stephen had interceded for his murderers with a prayer similar to Jesus at his crucifixion, “Forgive them for they don’t know what they are doing.” We continued reading in Philippians, staying awhile on the verse 1:9 that says “And this is my prayer, that your love may abound more and more in the knowledge and the depth of insight, so that you may be able to discern what is pure and blameless until the day of Christ.” It was then that I asked them, with my heart pounding, “Do you think that God really forgave Paul? How could He? I mean he murdered innocent Christians!” They emphatically nodded yes, and by now my dear husband knew where I was going (or being led!). Amanda said with absolutely certainty “As far as the East is from the West!” I then asked, “Is there any sin that God doesn’t forgive?” Again, they emphatically nodded together. “No way!”
I let a silent hush settle in. Silence is not my habit, and I am not comfortable in it, always feeling compelled to “Fill air time.” It was quiet for a few long seconds, and I asked, “Do you guys know why I do what I do in my ministry” They were still quiet, John, sensing the need to clarify this question asked them, “Do you know what mom’s ministry is?” They nodded. I repeated, “Do you know why I do what I do?”
They looked startled for a fraction of a second, and Christian answered, “Maybe it’s because you have some first hand experience in it….”. He trailed off and looked down. Amanda, ever sweet and affirming interrupted, “Because you love the Lord and want to serve Him?”
Here it comes, I thought. Strangely, my heart had stopped pounding. I was well into this thing I had prayed about, longed for yet avoided with everything in me. There was no turning back and there is a strange comfort sometimes in not having a choice. I nodded slowly, and then said, “You are both right. I myself had an abortion, and I have been forgiven like Paul, for so much, I want to do all I can to help other women like me.”
A few breaths, and then the first question was Christian’s. “WHEN?” I answered calmly, “ It happened many years ago. Many. And I have regretted it every day of my life since then.” Silence. Amanda said quietly, “I love you mommy.” Tears. The kind that burn hot on your cheek, the kind that spring directly from the soul, move through the broken heart, soothing places that are parched and sore and raw. Both children got up from their chairs and covered me with their arms and cried for a few minutes. They were smiling though. They did not seem sad. They seemed honored. They were affirmed. They understood. I could see that. But I could also see clearly for the first time that it was not I – the Post-Abortive mom working with wild abandon to near exhaustion to pour into them this faith that saved me, but it truly was our loving Savior very present in their huge hearts.
My husband is so cool. He went along this “wild ride” (one of many) without fair warning, yet the Holy Spirit in him led him to say and do the exact right things. He affirmed scripture, he affirmed me, and he sat there loving all of us while we pressed into something that has truly framed our family and will for years to come.
Dinner was over. I told the kids that they could ask any questions they might have in the days or years to come. I told them that abortion was NEVER an option. They still listened with shining eyes and quiet smiles. I reminded them that upon arriving in heaven, they would meet Jesus, Grandma Jane and their sibling as well. They clearly loved this thought, and a return to a normal Wednesday night happened in an instant. Clanging dishes, discussion of homework and television news shows.
That night taught me the real meaning of “Step In Faith.” I felt an immense burden lift off of my heart. I had carried it FOR SO LONG that I didn’t recognize it anymore. The lightness in our home and my heart has been palpable and I am forever grateful.
They have not asked one question. I know they are processing somewhere deep in their young hearts. I am ready for the questions though, because I know Mercy and I know Forgiveness, and because of that, I know all there really is needed to know. Amen.
