I don’t get it. I don’t know exactly what you’re feeling. I haven’t been pregnant at 15, 16, 18, 21, whatever your age may be, left with a choice that feels like your life or your baby’s life. But as I sit here in my dorm room, my heart is heavy for you. I can imagine the loneliness. I get the fear. How do you raise a child at that age? What are people going to say? How are your parents going to act? How do you go on living a normal life with a baby?
I want you to know that I don’t judge you; I respect you and I hurt with you, I want to celebrate with you. As a nineteen year old college girl, I don’t really care about how it happened, I want you to know that I respect you and I stand with you in love. I want you to know that in a time where the argument of life and choice makes this decision even more difficult, your decision is important. Your desires and fears and dreams are important. You are important.
Stop and breathe. Look down at your stomach. See that? There’s life. Your life. Your baby’s life. You cannot separate yourself from your baby right now. How amazing is it that? There is life in you. He or she may be so small. They may not look like a baby. But they depend on you. Already, there is a bond growing between you and this beautiful baby.
You are amazing. You are doing something I’m terrified about doing even further down the road if I get to have the opportunity to be pregnant. You are courageous. I can imagine the fear. Breathe. You are not alone.
Let me tell you about a friend of mine. He calls me beloved even though he knows everything about me. He gives me hope when I’m hopeless. He mourns with me, celebrates me with. When I feel so alone, he holds me close. When I feel forgotten, he tells me he remembers me, he knows me, he has never forgotten me. His love is constant. His advice is trustworthy. His forgiveness is constant. There is nothing I can do that will disappoint him. Nothing in my past, my present, or my future, can scare him, anger him, or cause him to leave. He knows what I have done. He knows what I am thinking about doing. And even still, his look of pure joy and love because of me, because of you, does not even waver. He never tries to manipulate me. He never takes advantage of me. He never pushes me in a way that would hurt me. He is the perfect lover. He is the perfect father.
Perhaps you’ve heard of him: Jesus, God…I like to call him Daddy, Abba, Father. I can’t tell you what to do with the baby growing inside you. I can’t understand completely. I can’t love you perfectly. But he loves you unconditionally. He understands. He desires you. He wants to lavish you with love. He wants to give you perfect peace in every situation. He wants to replace your fear with joy, your loneliness with understanding. Will you let him?
This perfect lover, perfect father knocks and waits to be invited in. He will never demand anything. He will never push his way in. He knocks and he waits, he hopes, he so longs to give you the peace and the joy he created you to experience. This knock rarely is presented in a time of joy because that is what he is offering. His knock can seem like fear, sadness, loneliness.
As women, so often this knock is loneliness. I would argue that it’s not snakes or spiders that is our greatest fear. Above all, we fear being abandoned. Utterly forsaken, forgotten. What a terrible word. Abandoned. What are you willing to do to not be abandoned? This fear drives us to do things I don’t think we would ever consider in any other circumstance. I know it has driven me to do things that have brought such pain and such guilt. I just wanted everything to be normal again. I just wanted to not be alone, left behind, overlooked.
But, my beautiful women, there is one who never leaves, never forsakes, never abandons. He is knocking. Go look in the mirror. Do you see your eyes? Do you see what they are saying? Look at the fear. Look at the exhaustion. There is his knock. In your fear, in your loneliness, he is asking to give you joy and peace. Will you have the courage to invite him in?