These past couple of weeks there has been a lot in the news about abortion, following Planned Parenthood's selling of baby parts. Of course this angers those of us who know that life is life whether in the womb or out of the womb. For me, these past few weeks have brought much sadness as I reflect on the personal side of abortion. It touches me and my son deeply. I almost aborted him. I was at the clinic, on time for my appointment. I had saved my paycheck from work to pay for it. Due to unforeseen circumstances that I know to be God's grace I had to leave the clinic that day (I Corinthians 10:13). Outside the clinic were voices of those urging me to choose life. They will never know how much their words echoed in my mind as I walked away that day and made the choice to never go back. That was thirty-one years ago.
I listen to all the reasons people give in favor of abortion. I did not have to look far into my own circumstances to reason that an abortion would solve many problems. ...or so it seemed. I do not pretend that alternatives to abortion are easy. At the time of my pregnancy I was a confused and frightened 18-year-old, living away from home for various reasons, looking for someone to fill the deep voids that no person can fill. Much of the first year of my son's life was spent living with different relatives, relying on the mercy of others to provide diapers and shelter, staying in motel rooms where I could not let my baby crawl because of the filth on the floor. ...all while facing the heartbreak of broken dreams of the life I would share with his biological father.
When I looked into my son's eyes for the first time, and many times since, I thought: "This is WHO I would have destroyed." I will never forget the reaction the first time I told him those things. He grabbed his chest and said, "That takes my breath away!" I have had the opportunity to watch a young man live the life I almost destroyed. No matter whether his parts would have been sold or trashed, just the thought of what I almost did causes me to shudder, and I am thankful that it does.
I always hesitate to tell my story because I know there are many who did not walk out of the clinic, and deeply regret it. I have seen their tears and my heart breaks for them. At the same time I am thankful that they can cry. "Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted." (Matthew 5:4) In Charles Spurgeon's devotional that I read this morning I was reminded of the sinfulness of our own hearts and not just the sinfulness of our nation.
I find it difficult to live in a society that cannot cry for the child in the womb; therefore I pray a prayer of thanks for those who have tirelessly sat outside clinics, wondering if they make a difference. Know that you do. I pray a prayer of thanks for the many Pregnancy Centers that help men and women make a life- giving choice for their babies. I pray a prayer of thanks for those who are on the front lines, fighting to change this nation's laws. I pray a prayer of hope for sinners like me who know the guilt, shame and regret of not just actions, but a heart that leans toward sin. I pray a prayer of repentance for those who cannot mourn.
Sherry Neis
Sherry's story can be downloaded on Face Book.
THE ONLY STORY THAT CAN HEAL OUR BROKENNESS
Tell me the old, old story of Jesus and His love
Of Jesus and His glory; of Jesus and His love.
Tell me the story simply, as to a little child.
For I am weak and weary, and helpless and defiled.
Tell me the story slowly, that I may take it in
That wonderful redemption, God's remedy for sin.
Tell me the story often, for I forget so soon;
The early dew of morning has passed away at noon.
Tell me the same old story when I have cause to fear
That this world's empty glory is costing me too dear.
Yes, and when that world's glory is dawning on my soul,
Tell me the old, old story: "Christ Jesus makes us whole."
TELL ME THE OLD, OLD STORY;
TELL ME THE OLD, OLD STORY;
TELL ME THE OLD, OLD STORY OF JESUS AND HIS LOVE.
Love, Jo