It’s amazing how ‘3 years ago’ can still seem like yesterday. I can still put myself back on that couch watching The Sixth Man while waiting for the baby to pass. I can still feel the fear of my boyfriend’s wrath as he yelled at me about what had happened. And from this newfound mountaintop, I can look down and still see a little girl rocking back and forth beside her bed scared to death that the cosmic battle between God and Satan was coming to an end and having no idea who was going to be victorious.
It amazes me that I can be so free, yet so deeply scarred.
What is maybe even more amazing is that in a culture that says perfection is beauty, I have learned to love the scars that keep me from appearing perfect. Before my abortion, I could cover my scars with makeup because they were shallow wounds with inconspicuous marks. But the abortion scar is pretty hideous, very large, and takes a whole lot of heavy duty cosmetics to cover over. And I have found that it’s not worth my time and effort.
People need to know the truth- about abortion and about God’s redemption.
There are so many times I want to share my journey with others, but what I’ve found is that the deepest parts of it- the parts that every hurting woman longs to know- are indescribable. As I sit here trying to come up with an analogy to help you understand, I realize that words cannot sufficiently explain the desperation I felt in my moments of deepest misery. I would say that it felt like someone was plucking shards of glass out of the pieces of my heart that were just found in the trash can, but that wouldn’t really do it justice. I could say it felt like I was drowning in an ocean while people, including Jesus, looked at me the way tourists look at sharks through a tank at sea world- as if they want to know the mysteries of the deep but to risk the ocean would be too dangerous. But then again, I might also say it felt like absolutely nothing at all…
But it was those desperate, lonely moments that taught me that God is wholly good.
Those are the moments that no one else will ever understand. They were terrifying, but they were necessary. Those are the moments that “God was whispering His promises even though I could not hear.” Oh, how beautiful it is to remember them! And sister, if you are at the base of that daunting mountain looking up with tear-stained eyes, believe me when I say that you will not make the trek to the other side alone. There will be times you will feel abandoned, left to die in the mountain’s wilderness. There will be other times when your soul hopes for more, but it won’t feel like hope. It will feel more like the most barren winter you’ve ever experienced with the knowledge that spring has to come at some point; you just don’t know when. Most, if not all of the time, you will hate the journey. And I think that’s ok because someday you will look back with great thankfulness because you will have finally realized that the journey was the whole point. I wish you could understand that now. But take heart, sister, if you stay in the game, you will be victorious. It’s too soon to give up.
Let Jesus be who He is- your Savior. He IS able to save, even you. And He is coming. Hold on.