"i had an abortion"

We've stood on that street corner dozens of times together.  We met on that street corner, visited, made friends, and kept each other warm.  She's a do-er... a woman of action, finding needs to be met, and meeting them.  i think she must vigil every day, because every time i come - she's already there... pacing that sidewalk faithfully - praying for the families that come looking for solutions in that clinic across the street. 
i arrive and am frustrated with myself for not dressing warmer.  You'd think i'd have learned my lesson by now, but no... constantly i'm arriving and thinking to myself... 'man, it's colder than i thought...'  But an hour's not too long to stand in the cold, so i make do.  i'm still gathering my scattered thoughts - and she's talking to me... she's telling me how someone yelled at her, "Go find something useful to do!"
i laugh - knowing there aren't a lot of 73 year old women who do as much as this one does - bringing meals to those who need them, vigilling in the cold hour after hour, translating encouraging books and messages into her first language for those back home who have never learned english...
"Yes," i say, "There are a lot of people who don't see the value in standing here and praying for those tiny lives aren't there?"
"i had an abortion."
i hear the words, but i'm sure i must not have heard correctly. i wasn't looking at her... but i am now... and her brown eyes are searching my face, watching my reaction... seeing the surprise that's registering there.  i feel my face crumble as it mirrors hers, and i grab her and wrap my arms around her. 
She's talking quickly now... and tears flow down her still-beautiful face - wetting the front of her warm jacket.  She was only twenty.  She had to pay for it herself out of her meagre paycheque.  She describes feeling robbed, lost, without hope or options. 
i'm crying with her - as we stand a stone's throw from the abortion clinic where our tax dollars pay for the same heartache thousands of times over every year. 
"If i would have seen people praying... outside that hospital, i would have run.  i never could have done it.  If i could only go in there, i know what's happening in there... i know how that life gets taken... i could tell them... " She breaks off sobbing. 
She tells me how she ran from her shame - threw herself away from family and immersed herself in labour... working constantly to dull the pain. 
Her voice rises and breaks into a cry, "i was dead inside.  i hate myself i HATE myself."
& in that moment, i hate abortion.  i do.  i hate the agony that it brings, i hate that it brought death to a child who should now be a 53 year old grandmother, i hate the pain that i see on my friend's face as she relives her agony.  i hate that this "solution" leaves ugly gaping wounds - and steals, kills and destroys. 
"God now... He's healing me."
& i see that He is - Redeemer, Healer, Father. 
i want to croon, to hold her like a mama holds her baby... i ask her if i can pray for her... because this sadness is too overwhelming.  It's too consuming.  It's too big - this ancient grief over a half a century borne on her shoulders. 
i pray... stumbling, quaking words - trusting that my Father in Heaven will one day make it all right... i pray that she will have faith that one day, she will meet this tiny one who didn't get the chance to live. 
Her shout interrupts my prayer and she adds, "Yes!  I believe it, i believe that!"
& i believe it too... i believe that there is healing for every broken hearted mama in Calgary who needs forgiveness and tastes the bitter regret of an abortion.  i believe that the God of the universe will do right - & there will be no more tears when we live with Him. 
My friend has to leave - i thank her for sharing her story with me.  i ask her if i can share it with all of you - & she says, "Yes, yes!!  If i can help even one woman..."
She's gone, and my eyes are closed in prayer...
i look up, and i see a man escorting a woman from that clinic to a waiting car. 
She's in her pyjamas... and she's shaky on her feet. 
The horror of the reality of abortion and the picture of the sorrow that could be this woman's future is too fresh in my mind - i'm undone. 
i hold my sign a little higher as their car pulls out of the parking lot. 
i see her face white in the window of the car.  She's looking right at me. 
"You are loved..." my sign proclaims.
i'm crying that horrible ugly cry... and i know i look like a lunatic - so overcome in that moment by what i know has happened... just like it happened 53 years ago.  i grieve for that little life... and the little life lost all those decades ago. 
"Oh, Father," i pray, "show her that truth."
The light changes, and the car pulls out of the parking lot - and becomes lost in the flow of traffic.

the gentle rebuke

Twice in the past 8 months, i've experienced a gentle rebuke. 
The first was so tender - & so unexpected - that i immediately burst into tears of sorrow and repentance at the nudge that made a radical change in my understanding... i went from believing one thing, to another in a single moment - the rebuke was personal and specific, and i immediately felt gratitude. 
The second happened on Sunday morning. 
We were sitting in church & suddenly i felt that gentle, prodding voice...
"Why didn't you set your timer for my 15 minutes of prayer for family on Friday?"
"What?  Father... i prayed all day on Friday!!  You know that i fasted and i spent more time than any other Friday on my knees..."
Friday had brought heartbreak for a family we know.  i had prayed with my children, and with a friend who came to my house and sat on a bed with me as we clutched hands and brought this family to our Father God - who loves each individual in this painful, hurting situation... i had asked my little ones to pray with me as i ached throughout the day - and it felt funny now... to feel a rebuke for not having set my timer to pray for family...
But, as with the other rebuke - that had come like a breeze into a room with no window - i knew in that moment... that i was wrong. 
This 15 on Friday is something different.  It's something that He's asking me to do - diligently, obediently, consistently...  It's different than skipping a meal.  It's different than our prayer time in the morning... It's different than the other times that i pray during the day.  It's personal, specific... and it's for *me* to do.  & it's something that i didn't make the time for on Friday. 
And i didn't feel a crushing condemnation... i felt a gentle rebuke, like, "Hey - little daughter... this year is hard, it's full of darkness and tearing and breaking up.  i've provided the opportunity for you, in this time i'm asking you to set aside, to bring it all to me.  This is for your protection.  Come."
Literally... in church... i did that, 'palm to the face...'
"ohhhhh...." i groaned.... understanding flooding red into my cheeks. 
Is this why i can hear Him differently... more clearly... than i have before?  Is it because of the time set aside - that has challenged me to introduce an ounce of discipline to a spiritual relationship that has often depended on a whim? 
i don't know...
But i know that i'm grateful to hear His voice...
&Holy Father?... i'll obey. 

***********
Have you ever heard that gentle reproach that changed your thinking in an instant? 

dawn

He's a morning person. 
i wake to the gentle, 'slap, slap' - of his baby palm against my cheek, and i turn my head away from him.  i hear him grunt and i feel his weight as he climbs mercilessly over my head to find my face again, tugging my hair and kneeing my cheekbone. He pokes his sharp little fingers at my eyes whispering, "boo?"
i snuggle him under the blankets & slowly the sleep fades. Eyes finally cracking open, i glance down at his - they're a startling blue, gazing hopeful at mama.  As our eyes meet, his crinkle into a smile, as if to say, 'hi mama!  Awake at last?'
"Hey, baby..." i whisper - and he immediately unlatches and corrects me.  
"No.  i not baby."
"Please?" i softly pretend to beg... or maybe i really do beg - maybe there's no pretending as i'm holding his tender little body against mine as the morning creeps steadier on...
"No." he states.  Firm.
"ok." i sigh, resigned... but then he cocks his head - and seems to soften to his crooning mama. 
"i be yo' baby." he croaks, "mama - waaa, waaaa..." His careful taunting mockery of a baby's cry to his mama makes me laugh, and he laughs with me.  He's such a smart baby boy. 
i hate that lump in my throat.  i hate that the sweetness of this moment makes my throat ache and my eyes sting in some sort of piercing nostalgia for a time that's not yet passed. 
His white hair is a wild cloud around his face, i smooth it, and kiss the fluff that refuses to lay flat.  The seconds tick, my boy grows restless, hungry, ready, awake...
And so we rise to face this new day.

**********************************

Less than a week left in our spring vigil.  Thank you to all who have been following along and sharing... You can check out our recent posts HERE. 

attention, Ken Hamilton

You don't know me... but i hear your name at least once a day.  You see, someone thinks that our number is the number that should be used to reach you... and they refuse to be thwarted by the fact that the wrong pesky people keep picking up.  Conversations go something like this;
ring ring...
"Hello?"
"Hello, Ken."
"Um, this isn't Ken," (says my 15 year old daughter), "i think you have the wrong number."
"Are you sure this isn't Ken?  Ken... Hamilton?"
"Pretty sure."
"Oh.  Alright then..."
(next day)
ring ring...
"Hello?"
"Hello, is this Ken?  Ken... Hamilton?"
"No.  Sorry.  i think you have the wrong number."
"Oh, i will call back later then."
"Um, but it's the wrong number..."
click. 
(next day)
ring ring...
"Hello.  Looking for Ken?"
"Why yes.  Is he available?"
"This isn't Ken's house.  He'll never be available here because he doesn't live here.  Phoning back to the same wrong number and expecting a different outcome is the very definition of insanity."
"I'll call back later then.  Thank you."

Ok... so i made that last one up... but seriously - it has been months of Ken Hamilton's bff trying to get ahold of him here.  Ken, if you're reading - give your buddy a call. 

I DECLARE... I DECLINE!!

So... i'm sure there are a lot of other Albertans out there who are concerned about our government's attempt to marry the Alberta Human Rights Act to our Education Act (to better understand this click HERE).  So, Neil & i were discussing our options for the election that is going to get called any day now...
i told him that in researching my options, i had read an article that outlined voting for, 'none of the above'.  Apparently in Alberta, Ontario & Manitoba - dissatisfied voters have the option of, 'declining to vote'.  This made Neil curious, so he asked how you do that... i told him you go through the whole rigamarole of getting your ballot & then you tell them that you would like to officially decline your ballot.
He said, "Um... how do you do that... Loudly?"
& we burst out laughing imagining standing in our little public square of a polling station loudly declining our ballots.  (He was probably just picturing me doing that all by myself... i more generously pictured us doing it together.)
Anyway - later that night, we were watching tv & there was an ad for The Office - & just the tiniest clip of Michael Scott standing in the middle of the room where he states loudly, "I delcare BANKRUPTSYYYYYYY!!!"
Well, we looked at each other & absolutely lost it.  We couldn't breathe we were laughing so hard. 
"That's you... that's YOOOOOOOUUUUU...!!"
So, in all honestly... i don't know what to do about voting.  It's hard.  But i'm going to study, learn and weigh my options.  i'm going to listen to my conscience that tells me that it's time to be a one issue voter, (i vote prolife). 
But for now... i declare nothing...