By Jean LeBlanc
We often find empty spaces and broken places in this journey called life. Sometimes someone, or a group of people, fills in those gaps for us. Our lives head in a new direction, and the ripples of our choices reach far and wide in blessing. Take, for example, Elizabeth’s story.*
Elizabeth trembled as she looked at the blue line in front of her. That meant positive. “Michael isn’t going to like this at all,” she muttered. Just last night he’d subjected her to another drunken tirade. He was hardly the loving daddy type. But what could she do?
Elizabeth leaned against the sink and closed her eyes. “What’s Mother going to say about this back in Colorado? What—” Her eyes shot open. “Wait a minute—I’ll just go home and have an abortion there!” She stood up and fixed her hair, her face a mask of resolve. “I’ll just give money to Lisa until I’m ready,” she sighed. “Problem solved.”
“Hi, Lisa.” Elizabeth smiled and pulled her coat more tightly around her. “I was wondering if I could have that money? I should be leaving pretty soon.” She glanced down at her abdomen.
“What money?” Lisa laughed, her voice cold and hard. “I spent it all.”
Elizabeth froze. “What?” she gasped. “But what am I going—”
Before she could finish, Lisa slammed the door in her face.
“Hello?” Pastor John held the phone against his ear as he moved some papers on his desk.
“Hello. Is this the Waxwood Baptist Church?” a young woman asked.
“Yes, ma’am. This is Pastor John speaking. May I help you in some way?” He paused his organizing. This caller needed his full attention.
“Well, uh, my name is Elizabeth, and I called because of your ad in the paper. The one that says, ‘Voice of the Pre-born.’”
“Nice to meet you, Elizabeth,” Pastor John returned warmly. “I take it you must be expecting.”
“Yes, but…well, my partner isn’t exactly…” Elizabeth paused and then let out a sigh. “It’s a long story, but would you be willing to help me get an abortion? I don’t have the money, and...”
Pastor John bowed his head, his lips moving in a short, silent petition before answering. “We can’t help you get an abortion, Elizabeth,” he gently informed her. “That would be going against God’s plan for our lives. But I’d be happy to offer you some counseling sessions if you would like. It might help you to talk about some of the things going on in your life.”
Silence filled the other end of the line for the next moment or two. “I suppose so,” Elizabeth relented.
“How about next Tuesday, around 3:30?”
“Sure, yeah, that could work. Where are you located?”
After giving the address and saying goodbye, Pastor John hung up and bowed his head once more. A mission as delicate as this should be bathed in prayer. “Oh, Lord, please help this center to be of service to this young lady, and may many more centers like this spring up in the future to help others.”
I’ve decided I want to keep my baby, whatever happens.”
“That’s wonderful, Elizabeth,” Pastor John said softly.
“So, after all we’ve discussed in our previous visits, I’m curious, Elizabeth. What are your thoughts? Do you think our talks have been beneficial to you? What would you like…” Pastor John’s last question drifted away as he noticed Elizabeth eyeing a stack of magazines on his desk. An issue of Life with a baby in utero on the cover rested on top. She picked it up and studied the cover before opening it.
Pastor John remained silent while Elizabeth meandered through the pages full of photographs of the unborn. Only when the tears began to flow did he break the silence. “Elizabeth, would you like a tissue?” He placed the box in front of her.
Elizabeth jumped slightly in her seat. “Oh—oh yes. I’m sorry. I just…” Leaving her thought unfinished, she took a tissue and blew her nose.
“It’s alright,” Pastor John reassured her. “It’s quite something, isn’t it?” He gestured towards the magazine in her lap.
Elizabeth shook her head. “I never realized the fetuses were actual humans, like you and me. In school, the professors said they were just a mass of proto–protoplasm, not something with little fingers…and toes…” Her voice caught as she struggled to control her emotions. She used another tissue before clearing her throat and continuing. “I’ve decided I want to keep my baby, whatever happens.”
“That’s wonderful, Elizabeth,” Pastor John said softly. “If you need assistance with anything, anything at all, please let me or one of the elders or deacons know, and we will see what we can do.”
Pastor John proved true to his word, and his church later provided Elizabeth with a baby shower and helped her find employment along with other essentials. He also became the spark for the development of many other crisis pregnancy centers.
Barbara stood over the sink and ran the razor up her arm until her skin broke. At the sight of the reddened skin and the droplets of blood, she exhaled in relief. She glanced at the toilet, the porcelain depository of her many bouts with bulimia.
She stared at her gaunt face in the mirror. Tears pooled at the corners of her eyes and her expression crumpled, the soothing effect of the blade forgotten in the flood of misery. “Ohh, Jesus,” she wept quietly, hoping not to be heard, “I—hate—myself.” She wiped her face with her sleeve after a moment, but the sight of her husband’s favorite shampoo and her oldest child’s rubber ducky brought a fresh round of tears. Any other wife might see them as symbols of domestic delight, but not Barbara. She and her husband fought more than anything else these days, and her children suffered through it.
“Jack, Robert, Alice…” she whispered their names through her choked sobs. What was she doing to them, living like this?
“I don’t deserve to be their mother. I never will. Not after I aborted my children. I don’t deserve to be a mother at all…” Barbara took a ragged breath and turned the faucet on, attacking the dried blood with soap and water. She slammed the faucet off, breathing heavily. “God, please help me find peace…”
In 2011, among the crowds at a church youth conference, a young woman at a booth caught Barbara’s attention. She hesitated. This woman’s booth presented pro-life material. She certainly hadn’t been pro-life. What would this woman think of her? Taking a deep breath, she stepped forward and smiled.
“Hello,” the young woman greeted her, rising from her seat with hand extended. “I’m Camille Robertson.”
“I’m Barbara—Barbara Smith.” She glanced down at the materials on the table and then back at smiling, dark-haired Camille. Barbara returned the smile more easily. “Can you tell me more about what you have here?”
“Absolutely!”
As Barbara listened to Camille share about her ministry and about her mother, Elizabeth, who had almost had an abortion, Barbara realized her first child would have been the same age as Camille if she hadn’t gone through with her abortion all those years ago. As Barbara looked through the photos and books, she saw that the unborn aren’t fuzzballs, but beautiful babies with tiny hands and feet. She even saw what her own child would have looked like at 12 weeks—at the time she had her abortion. Barbara ventured to share her own story with Camille, and waited.
“Barbara,” Camille replied, “God wants to extend His healing to you, today. You are valuable, you are precious in His sight; and He can use your story, no matter how messy and broken, to His glory.”
Whether you've had an abortion or an unplanned pregnancy,
God can use your story for His glory!
Camille typed the last word of the update on the ministry’s website. Intercessor. She had chosen it because her ministry was dedicated to interceding for the sanctity of life at every step, from before the cradle to the grave. And now, she had an intercessory partner in Barbara, the woman from the youth conference two years earlier. Camille turned to the right as she shut her laptop, her eyes landing on a photograph of her mother and herself.
Her eyes grew misty as she stared at it. “Thank You, God,” she breathed, “for sending someone to stand in the gap all those years ago.”
If this story spoke to you, know that healing and hope aren’t just a wishful ending—they are promises found in the truth of God’s Word. If you’re hurting after an abortion, if you have questions, or if you’re struggling over a crisis pregnancy, you’re not alone. Mafgia Ministries believes every human life holds immeasurable value, from the moment of conception to the final breath, and that includes your life. Connect with them today: info@mafgia.com/www.mafgia.com.
*Names in this story have been changed and some details modified for anonymity. Conversations have been imagined for creative effect.
Image credit: © Shutterstock.com
Jean LeBlanc is a proofreader for Last Generation magazine and writes from Dover-Foxcroft, Maine.