http://www.numberofabortions.com
It has an abortion counter that functions much like the national debt clock we’ve seen on the news and talk shows during these difficult financial times. I was astounded to see the numbers increase every second, as I sat and gazed at the counter. Literally every second, a baby somewhere in the world was losing his or her life to abortion. Meanwhile, as a woman who has experienced her own struggle with infertility, I knew that as many or more women were simultaneously discovering that they had once again failed to conceive the child they so desperately wanted. It pierced my heart and brought tears to my eyes.
I can still remember the struggle my husband and I experienced as we found ourselves wrestling with infertility. The tests and eventually my surgery and fertility drugs were a journey that gave us such an appreciation for the miracles of conception and birth. Of all the earthly events in our lives, I can say with confidence that becoming parents ranked highest. Our children are the joy of the past, our friends in the present, and the bright hope of the future.
Though many of you may already know this, I also learned that Norma McCorvey – aka. Jane Roe of Roe V. Wade — never did have the abortion that was so vigorously pursued in that landmark court case. She subsequently became a pro-life advocate, expressing grave regrets for the legal precedence her case established. Recently, she participated in a film production called Bloodmoney to expose the financial greed of the abortion industry, and the deceit this industry has perpetrated upon women for the sake of the almighty dollar.
Culture has programmed us over the past 40 years to see abortion as a legitimate reproductive right for women. Having never been confronted with an unwanted pregnancy, I can only begin to imagine the fear and desperation many teens and adult women have experienced who have walked through this difficult and very personal decision. Michelle’s story in Through the Tears is not meant to cast dispersion on any of the women who have wrestled with this experience.
Rather, it is to illuminate the other side of this issue – the many women whose hearts are breaking because they cannot conceive, and who would welcome into their lives and homes the babies that other women feel unable to raise themselves. I also wanted to present an option that many young mothers do not even realize they have – the option of safe surrender, which most states offer to those who have chosen to have their babies and then end up overwhelmed and desperate to get out from under the monumental responsibilities that go along with parenting. Perhaps the knowledge of this option will encourage more women who are wrestling with their decision to give parenting a chance.
A second topic for the story arose as Michelle returned to college, where I knew she would be likely to encounter professors who would challenge and attempt to destroy her new Christian faith. As a teacher myself, I am deeply disturbed by this trend in higher education. Many of the colleges which were formed for the express purpose of educating men and women to serve in the ministry of Jesus Christ (including most ivy league schools) have recently taken the contrary role of dissuading students from the most precious of all possessions – a faith that gives their lives meaning, not only today but for all of eternity. This trend is a shameful indictment on “higher learning.” It exposes intolerance toward the Christian faith by many pseudo-intellectuals who are in positions of influence.
I hope Michelle’s journey in Through the Tears will spark discussion and possibly even action on the part of some readers. If you have a burden for unwanted, unborn children, I urge you to consider reaching out to volunteer at a crisis pregnancy center where women are presented with the developmental facts of their unborn baby and the pro-life options of adoption and safe surrender.
If you are currently a student at a college or university or are an alumnus of such an institution, don’t be afraid to let your voice be heard regarding professors like Dr. Chambers. Write letters to the school’s publications as well as to the dean or president of the school, blog about your experiences, become active in organizations like Campus Crusade for Christ, and ask God to show you how you can personally share your testimony. Other Christian students, who may not have the confidence to speak out, will be blessed by your courage.
I’ll be eager to hear your stories and experiences as you step out in faith! Don’t miss the third book in the Sandy Cove series, Into Magnolia, about Michelle’s ministry as she begins her teaching career at Magnolia Middle School. A preview of Into Magnolia follows this note.
May God strengthen and equip you for every good work.
With love,
Rosemary Hines
P.S. I would love to hear from you.
Please feel free to email me at [email protected].
You can also visit me on the web at www.RosemaryHines.com.
Keep up with my blog posts and news on my Facebook author page: https://www.facebook.com/RosemaryHinesAuthorPage
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To travel back in time and begin reading the prequel to Through the Tears, click here.
To begin reading the sequel to Through the Tears, click here.
Out of a Dream
Sandy Cove Series Book 1
CHAPTER ONE
March
Sandy Cove, Oregon
Michelle Baron’s heart raced, pounding in her ears. She panted, gasping for every breath. Her eyes searched for an escape. The passageway was dark and narrow. A faint beam of light flickered at the end. She fought the damp, suffocating air. Footsteps from behind made louder and louder slaps on the pavement. How much farther could her legs carry her?
She felt a hand reach out and grab her shoulder. Spinning, she found herself staring into the face of a middle-aged man. His gray hair was tousled and his wrinkled face looked intense. The seriousness of his expression frightened her. “I’m Marty, Michelle. I can help you.”
She shook her head in fear, turned, and ran.
“Michelle...wait...Michelle....”
If only she could get to the light….
"Michelle! Hey, wake up! Are you okay?"
A hand was on her shoulder again. She awoke in a sweat, her eyes darting like a hunted animal. The sound of the wind howling outside added to her disorientation as the rain beat in a steady pattern, like the footsteps which had pursued her.
“It’s okay, Michelle.” Her husband pulled her toward himself.
She reached for Steve and his embrace enveloped her. Clinging to him in the predawn darkness of their bedroom, she felt like a helpless child rather than a twenty-one-year-old newlywed.
"It was the same, Steve. Just like last week.” Michelle shivered. “Where are these dreams coming from?" She clutched him like a life raft, searching his face for answers.
Holding her around the shoulder with one arm, Steve reached over and flipped on the bedside lamp, gently pushing her long, dark hair off her face. "I don’t know, babe. I don’t know.”
As he held her close, her breathing slowed. She began to relax as he cupped her face in his hands. “Maybe you should talk to someone about this. You know, someone professional."
"Like a therapist? Do you think there’s something wrong with me, Steve?"
"No, Michelle,” he replied with a loving but somewhat patronizing tone. “I just think that maybe a counselor could help you figure this out. I hate to see you going through this night after night."
He arose from the bed and walked into the bathroom, adding under his breath, “Besides, I’ve got to get more sleep before these big briefings.”
When he returned a moment later, he asked, “Did you have these dreams before we got married?”
Michelle shook her head. “Not like this.”
“Maybe it has something to do with me or being married.”
“It’s not you, Steve.” She stared off into space, her brow furrowed as she automatically began twisting a small patch of hair at the nape of her neck.
He sat down again beside her, reaching for her hand and gently guiding i
t away from the small clump of hidden, frayed hair. “I don’t remember you having any nightmares on our honeymoon,” he said softly.
“Me neither.” Michelle looked up into his eyes and smiled slightly. “Like I said, it’s not you, Steve. It’s not the marriage.”
“Well, what do you think it is?”
“I don’t know. Maybe it’s the move. Maybe I just need to get used to living up here,” she replied, fighting off images of her family and friends down in Southern California.
“I thought you were fine with this,” he said, lifting her chin with his finger so they were looking eye to eye. “You knew I’d be taking this job before we got married.”
“Yeah. It sounded like an adventure at the time…”
“So now you wish we hadn’t moved up here?” He looked concerned.
“No.” She glanced away, tears beginning to pool in her eyes. “You just don’t get it,” she said softly.
“You’re right, Michelle. But I’m trying.” He stood up and walked over to the closet.
Their half-grown kitten, Max, jumped up on the bed beside Michelle. She took him into her arms and stroked his soft, multicolored hair.
Steve started to walk back into the bathroom and then turned. “Hey, do you think these dreams might have something to do with that yoga class you’ve been taking?”
Michelle bristled, her defenses rising. “No, Steve. Yoga helps you relax and get more centered.”
“Just asking. You said there were some hypnosis things they were doing in that class.”
“What? The guided imagery?”
“Whatever you want to call it. Didn’t you say the teacher had you guys imagining some scene and going toward a light?”
“What’s with you and my yoga class?” Michelle asked defensively, her early morning fear turning into aggravation.
“Hey,” he replied, “I’m not the enemy here, okay? I’m just trying to help you figure out these dreams.”
Steve’s pragmatic side frustrated her. Couldn’t he understand how lonely she was since they’d moved so far away from her family and friends? He was busy at work all day pursuing a career he loved. She was left at home alone.
“You were the one who suggested I take the spring semester off so that we could get settled. What am I supposed to do while you’re at work all day? My yoga class is the only thing I really have to look forward to during the week.”
Sighing, Steve walked over to her and placed his hands on her shoulders. “You’re right, honey.”
His soft reply caught her off guard. Michelle’s anger began to melt as she looked into his pale blue eyes. Ever since she met him at the university library, she was attracted to his gentle smile and his weathered and boyishly handsome face. At twenty-six years of age, he seemed so much older and more mature than Michelle and her classmates. But it was his eyes that captured her heart. They were able to gaze into her very soul.
“Let’s do something special tonight,” he suggested, wrapping his arms around her waist. “I’ll try to get off early.”
Michelle smiled tentatively and nodded. Giving him a kiss, she turned to grab her robe off the rocking chair and head downstairs to make the coffee.
The cozy cottage decor of their kitchen had a mood-lifting effect on her, and the aroma of freshly brewing coffee soon filled the room. Before she could pour herself a cup, Max cornered her against the counter, rubbing across her legs and purring.
She reached down and ruffled his fur. "What is it, Max? Are you hungry?" she asked, her voice still a bit shaky.
Max mewed in response, his green eyes looking up plaintively into hers. She walked over to the cupboard and pulled out a can of cat food, and he immediately began prancing in circles, as if chiding her to hurry.
After getting him settled with his breakfast, she peeked out the window over the sink to get a first glimpse of the new day. Heavy rain clouds blanketed their neighborhood, overshadowing a thin sliver of light on the horizon.
When they first moved to Sandy Cove in January, Michelle had enjoyed the stormy Oregon weather. California was undergoing a warm winter drought, and she savored the opportunity to keep a fire going in the fireplace and snuggle beside it with Steve when he finally got home from work at night.
By February the constantly dripping sky became monotonous. Now March looked to be much the same.
She flipped on the television and listened as the weatherman predicted a full day of rain with moderate wind. “Oh brother,” she said in a low whisper, all joy drained from her voice.
Though Sandy Cove was a quaint, likeable seaside community when warmed in the glow of a sunny day, for much of the year its atmosphere was one of persistent clouds and temperamental storms. Gazing outside, Michelle sighed. The weather matched her mood these days—restless, depressed, uneasy. She punched off the power button, silencing the news.
Opening the bag of wheat bread, she walked over to the toaster and dropped two pieces inside. She checked the setting. Light. Pushing down the lever, she turned to the refrigerator for the butter and jam. Better hurry or Steve will leave without eating again.
Michelle set the spreads beside the toaster, poured two cups of coffee, and carried them over to the table. Sitting down, she glanced at the unpaid bills standing in the napkin holder. Going from college coed to married homemaker was not all she’d hoped it would be.
As she listened to the sounds of Steve upstairs and sipped her coffee, she indulged in a moment of reminiscing.
The past ten months were somewhat of a blur. Steve’s initial constant attention and affections had quickly won her heart. The thought of marrying a law school graduate and moving to a new town in another state seemed so romantic and exciting as they discussed it at the Italian restaurant the night he proposed.
Their breathtakingly beautiful Christmas wedding was the finishing touch on a fairy-tale romance. Michelle almost felt like she was floating above the congregation as she promised her life to Steve.
“I should be happy,” she remarked with a sigh.
After all, how many law graduates were offered a junior partnership right out of school? Steve’s uncle had been great. Retiring from his law practice in Sandy Cove to pursue his dream of writing legal intrigue novels, he had convinced his partner to bring Steve into the firm as his replacement. Knowing that the move would displace these Southern California natives, he’d also generously loaned them the money for a down payment on their house.
So why wasn’t Michelle happy? Somehow she needed to shake the gloom she wore like a tattered shawl. If she could just get to the bottom of her dreams….
“What are you thinking about?” Steve asked as he entered the kitchen.
As if on cue, the toast popped up at the same moment, and Michelle walked over to butter it. “Just stuff.”
“Any stuff I need to know?” Steve approached her from behind and wrapped his arms around her waist as he kissed the back of her head.
Wanting to avoid rehashing their earlier conversation, she replied, “Just thinking about the night you proposed to me.” She turned and handed him the plate with the buttered toast.
“Ahh, yes. Great lasagna,” he replied with a grin.
“Leave it to a guy to remember the food.” Michelle’s eyes rolled as she gave him a faint smile.
“Well, I’d love to sit here and stroll down memory lane with you, but—”
“—but you’ve got to get to work,” Michelle interrupted, hoping her voice didn’t sound resentful.
“You got it, babe!” Steve grabbed a piece of paper towel for his toast. “I’ll eat on the way. Could you pour my coffee into this?” He handed her his travel mug that had been sitting on the counter.
She quickly transferred the coffee from the cup on the table into his thermal mug and sealed the lid. “Here you go, sir.”
“I’ll see you tonight,” Steve replied, leaning over and giving her a good-bye kiss.
As Michelle got ready to take her shower, she glanced at the u
nmade bed and shivered as she remembered her early morning episode. She knew that she needed to talk to someone about these dreams. But who?
A warm shower washed away some of her anxiety, and she felt lighter as she slipped into her workout pants. The soft, gray fabric fit comfortably and flattered her tall, slim figure. A pale yellow sweatshirt contrasted with her long, wavy black hair that fell in cascades down the center of her back.
Bending at the waist, Michelle brushed through the waves upside down. When she swung herself upright again, her hair fell perfectly in place creating a thick, shiny frame around her delicate face. Her hazel eyes carefully guided her as she applied lipstick and eyeliner. The final result was stunning.
Many people had told her she should be a model. But walking down a runway or posing for a photo shoot scared her. Her shy nature preferred to hide comfortably in the background. While beauty was one of her God-given strengths, confidence was not. Besides, Michelle had a different career path in mind. She would be a teacher. Someday.
Glancing at her watch, she realized it was about time to leave for yoga. “Monica should be here any minute,” she commented to Max, who was rubbing up against her leg.
A moment later the doorbell rang. “Gotta go!” she added, turning and heading downstairs with Max at her heels.
Out of habit, she peeked through the peephole before turning the bolt. There was Monica Nabors, her only friend in Sandy Cove.
Opening the door, she thought about how much Monica reminded her of a friend from elementary school. Her rather plain face possessed a wide smile that rested between two dimples. It was her smile, Michelle decided, that gave her a certain air of familiarity.
“How’s it going, girl?” Monica asked.
For just a moment, Michelle flashed back to their initial meeting. It had been at their first yoga class. Plunking herself down on a mat next to her, Monica had thrust out her hand offering her name and a smile.
Through the Tears (Sandy Cove Series Book 2) Page 29