I’ve invited my friend, Britt, to share her story, here, of abuse, abortion and redemption. Won’t you welcome her, in the comments?
She knew before she took the test. In the middle of snorting another line of cocaine, she knew she was pregnant. And worst of all, she knew hewas the father. Her abuser, her own father, now the father of this someday daughter that she instantly knew. Hopes and dreams collided with fear and panic. How could she keep her daughter safe when she couldn’t save herself? Tearful conversations with the life growing inside of her didn’t help, but several weeks later she walked into that clinic alone; shuffling out hating God and herself more.
It’s October 9th, she’s running late and races into the doors of the church just in time to pray with the other volunteers before the kids would start arriving before the evening worship service. In a rare event, no babies came that night and she volunteered to move to the five year old room. She walked in, and a pain hit her unlike anything else she had ever experienced. She felt a part of her being ripped out. Running down the stairs, collapsing in tears, she cried and prayed remembering it should have been her daughter’s fifth birthday.
She remembers being introduced to God’s grace but while using drugs and alcohol, she never allowed herself to think of her little girl. And now, God is putting it right in front of her. She tearfully prays for forgiveness when she wakes up from the nightmares of her would-be daughter. She prays for forgiveness when shame overwhelms her. She prays for forgiveness when she hears the church call women who have had abortions “murderers.” Tears of shame fall down her face, and she is afraid to admit that her little girl had a name. That she misses her little girl. That she feels a loss deeper than she can understand. And yet, she knows that in that moment, she did the only thing she knew how to do to keep herself and her daughter safe. And she wonders, could God understand or forgive her?
She flips through the radio as thoughts of her little girl race through her mind and she hears “You know what it’s like, yeah you know what it’s like, what it’s like to lose a child” and it hits her. Papa God knows. He knows the pain she feels, the agony of losing her child. And Papa’s son died so she and her daughter could live. So she takes a deep breath and speaks her daughter’s name, almost as a prayer of gratitude and grace: Addison Cale.