We had been been swept up in an overwhelming love story. My baby and I had stood in a place to testify to that truth and it had washed over us. My heart longed to hold in my hands the hope I had held in my heart, to lay eyes on the gift the Lord had knit together in love for our family. Yet, I knew the most painfully beautiful challenge was ahead for us both. Giving birth for me. Being born for him.
God must love all these folks a lot more than I was capable of. I thought Jonah was a jerk, but when I searched inside myself I found that if it were up to me alone I would have abandoned ship long ago. I was tempted to pray, “Please Lord, just let the pregnant lady of the hook now.”
If am stepping to the track please find me. If I am conducting the train, don’t forget me. If I am strapping her down, don’t cast me aside. If I am trying to hide my eyes, show me. If I am throwing stones, stay my arm with true love. If I’m tucked inside a womb scheduled to die, show up for me. If I am shouting that deadly lie, gently refute.
The week before Christmas at the clinic was especially hard. I don’t know why I held this hope that there would be less abortion, but I did. Here this day, it was likely that twenty five babies had been ushered into the arms of The Christmas Baby.
Although I stood to fight for LIFE with the pro-life officer who valued all human lives equally, clinic workers and the unborn, I was battling fear when I thought of returning to my prayer post by the driveway the coming Tuesday. I hoped the clinic workers knew that I was there praying for God to bless them, not strike them dead.
Is it a shame? Is it really a shame that someone dares stand where someone dares look for a sign that would spare their unborn child from the lies of abortion. I should say not! We will not be ashamed.
We were all once small as a spark, weak and brand new. Through no choice of our own we came into existence in a womb. We were all carried by our mothers. At that time, I wondered many things about my baby. Was this the brother Isaac had prayed for? Or another daughter? And if this were a son, could he possibly be that young man I saw in an unforgettable dream?