I had just returned home from the clinic. I had made my choice. . . I'd had an abortion.
Tired, weary and hurting I tried to sleep. It wasn't a physical hurt, but a hurt that came from deep within me, a pain that branched out to every part of my being. I had never hurt like this before. Why was I feeling like this now? Why didn't somebody tell me it would be like this? At the time before the abortion I was convinced it wasn't even a baby. I remembered what a friend had said, "It's not even a baby yet, it's only a mass of tissue. So don't worry about it. Once it's done it's over with!" But it's not over! This is the worst kind of hurt. Will it ever go away? What in the world have I done? God, please forgive me!
I lie there, silent, my thoughts screaming through my head.
After a long restless struggle I began to feel myself drifting off. Somewhere between wakefulness and sleep I had this sensation, it was as if I were rising upward, floating, weightlessly towering far above the world below.
Suddenly, I found myself in a place far beyond my imagination. I first recall the overwhelming fragrance of what seemed to be a vast field of flowers, an awesome scent. Was I dreaming? As I opened my eyes, breathlessly I took it all in. Somehow, I had been transformed to another world. Without being told I knew my eyes beheld: the Celestial City. This unearthly splendor I was experiencing could not be matched by any earthly pleasure. The feeling of utter bliss stirred my senses.
As I stood enchanted by the magnificence surrounding me, I began to hear a faint cry somewhere in the distance. Wondering where it was coming from, instantly, there I was: the Pearly Gates, even more magnificent than my grandmother had described to me growing up.
There, at the foot of the gate, where the heartbroken sobs rang out, was a small child. The child's cries penetrated my soul as if it were my own pain, until my face too was streaked with tears.
"Sweetheart," I said: "Why are you crying?"
The child replied, "The Gate Keeper said he has no name recorded for me in his Great Book, because; I have no name. But it's not my fault! I had no choice; I was aborted."
It wasn't until that moment I realized that this child was my own. I held my child as we cried until we saw it, a light; a light so brilliant, so radiant a glow, that it warmed our hearts and dried our tears. Out of that light we heard a voice, like divine music pronounce; "Suffer the little children, and forbid them not to come unto me: for such is the kingdom of Heaven. Your name is, My Child."
The name "My Child" had no more been spoken than it appeared in the Lamb's Book of Life.
At that instant, the Gate Keeper opened the gate and we heard as the trumpet blew an angelic choir singing, and it was then that we saw Him. It was Jesus, in all His glory. We knew it was Jesus, as He held out His arms, we could see His nail scarred hands. Without hesitation My Child ran to Him and was tenderly lifted up into His warm embrace. He looked to me saying, "Behold, children are a gift of the Lord; The fruit of the womb is a reward. In all things set an example by doing what is good. Now go and sin no more!"
Suddenly, I was swept back to the world I thought I had left behind. Once again I lie there, silent, regretful, pondering over the wrong I had done. Yet, anticipating the days ahead and longing to make known to others the love and forgiveness I now knew I was destined to share . . . . . . Jesus!
Still, that choice would have to be theirs.
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