O LORD my God, I called to you for help and you healed me…. You brought me up from the grave; you spared me from going down into the pit. Sing to the LORD…praise his holy name. For his anger lasts only a moment, but his favor lasts for a lifetime; weeping may remain for a night, but rejoicing comes in the morning…. You turned my wailing into dancing; you removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy.
It was Maggie, of course. On the surface she looked bright and put together, but inside she was falling apart. Just like in the image she’d seen that first day, the image of a woman wearing a mask.
Pray, daughter. Maggie’s in trouble…
Laura blinked back tears. Weeks had passed since Maggie had been to church, and though Laura had called the Stovall home twice since their initial conversation, no one had ever answered and she’d been forced to leave a message.
Help her, God…whatever she’s going through. I can’t reach her, but You can, Father.
Coffee brewed in the kitchen nearby and, as the words of prayer came, Laura’s mind was filled with another picture. That of a little girl, alone and frightened.
What’s this, Lord? Who is this little one?
Pray for her…trust Me; trust My Word. Anything you ask in My name will be given to you…
The words filled her heart with peace and Laura continued to pray for Maggie and the little girl and whatever secret lay behind the mask. Throughout the morning she held fast to the promise in the psalm: Weeping may remain for the night, hut rejoicing comes in the morning.
She prayed the Scripture throughout her morning coffee and well past the folding of laundry and making of bread for dinner that night. By midday the urgency in Laura’s soul was replaced with a deep-seated, peace-filled assurance. Somehow Laura knew the words to the psalm belonged especially to Maggie Stovall for this time in her life. And whatever dark place she was in, however the little girl fit into the picture, one day very soon there would come something from God Himself.
Great, abundant, overwhelming joy.
Only five minutes remained before Maggie’s first group session, and she was trembling badly. Other patients filed in and took their places in the circle as Maggie gripped the edge of her chair and forced herself to stay put. She wanted desperately to flee the room, to sneak down the hospital corridor and climb back into bed.
Maggie wasn’t sure if it was the medicine she was taking or the fact that in talking to Dr. Camas she’d finally told the truth about her life, but for some reason sleep no longer eluded her. Instead it had become an escape, a way of numbing the pain that assaulted her when she stood in the glaring, harsh light of truthfulness.
The chairs were full except one, and Maggie remained motionless but for her eyes, which darted about the circle taking in something about each of the patients. There was a balding man whose polyester pants hung loosely on his skeletal frame. He leaned forward in his seat and studied the tops of his shoes rather than make eye contact with anyone. Across the circle a pretty girl of no more than twenty with fading bruises on her cheek bit her lower lip and rocked nervously.
Maggie wondered about the bruises as her gaze moved around the circle to a heavyset, middle-aged woman in an elegant cashmere sweater and wool pants. The woman’s soft, leather shoes bore testimony to the fact that she had money, but the circles under her eyes proved that wealth had done little to ease her pain.
As far as Maggie could tell, the others were inconspicuously doing the same as she: checking out the circle and trying to decide what paths in life had led them here, as patients in a psychiatric hospital.
Maggie took in the group as a whole and noticed only a few that whispered casually among themselves. For the most part those seated in the circle were quiet, each person lost in his or her own ocean of stormy darkness. In some strange way, there was comfort in a roomful of people who were suffering like she was. Dr. Camas had said the others in the group had been meeting daily for the past week and that all of them were suffering from various stages of depression.
“You’re not alone, Maggie,” he’d told her at the end of their last session. “Many people hurt the way you have, but most do not seek help until it’s too late. You’re here. That tells me that deep inside you believe God will use this time to help you get better.”
She would have loved nothing more than to walk away from the group and find Dr. Camas now. He could make sense of her racing heart and shaking hands.
Peace I leave you, My peace I give you…
Maggie started to argue with the Scripture as it flashed across her mind, but she stopped as the words played again and again.
My peace I give you…My peace I give you…
Not me, Lord, I don’t deserve peace. Not after what I did.
My peace I give you…
It wasn’t a promise Maggie felt worthy of claiming, but for reasons she couldn’t understand, her heart rate slowed, and she was able to draw a slow, deep breath. Before she could analyze her feelings further, a woman with a radiant complexion and twinkling eyes took her place in a nearby chair. On her pale blue sweater she wore a simple name badge, and once she was seated, she introduced herself as Dr. Lynn Baker.
“Welcome, everyone.” Dr. Baker crossed her legs and smiled at the group. A glow of sincerity in her eyes put Maggie at ease, and she felt the muscles in her neck relax. “We have someone new with us today.” She motioned to Maggie. “Why don’t you introduce yourself to the group.”
Instantly her muscles seized. What was she doing here, about to bare her soul to a group of perfect strangers? And what if they found out about her column? I’ll have no credibility at all once I’m finished here. She cleared her throat hesitantly. “I’m Maggie.”
Dr. Baker waited as though Maggie might want to expound on her introduction. When Maggie remained silent, the doctor continued. “Let’s start with revelation.” She looked at Maggie. “Revelation is a time early in group session when each of you has the opportunity to share something about your past, something about the reason you’re here. It’s an optional time.”
The doctor looked around the room slowly, and there was an uncomfortable silence. The young girl in her twenties began twisting her hands together and shifting restlessly in her chair. There were no sounds coming from her, but tears fell onto her jeans. Maggie guessed she was fighting some type of inner war, wanting to share with the group and terrified at the same time. Maggie could relate. She had no intentions of talking in front of these people. Not now or ever.
The group had focused its complete attention on the girl, and Dr. Baker took the initiative. “Sarah, do you have something to share?”
Sarah looked at Dr. Baker, and there was a well of deep desperation in her eyes. The girl opened her mouth and ran a hand self-consciously over her bruised cheek. “Y-y-yes. I think it’s t-t-time.” She glanced down at her hands again and Maggie saw that her fingernails were bitten down past the point of pain. The picture of Sarah sitting there, searching for a way to begin the journey into her darkest place, was so pitiful, Maggie forgot about her own fear.
Help her, God. Give her the words to speak her heart…
“C-c-can you tell them m-m-my name and stuff, you know, why I’m here?”
Dr. Baker smiled kindly and drew an easy breath. “Okay everyone, this is Sarah. She’s here by choice because she suffered a breakdown. Her parents have recently become part of her life again and are very supportive of the therapy she’s receiving at Orchards.” Dr. Baker looked at Sarah and waited until the girl nodded, apparently giving the doctor permission to continue. “Sarah’s struggles come from having had three abortions.” Dr. Baker paused. “Sarah, you want to tell them what you’re feeling?”
Everyone in the group seemed to settle back in their chairs, and Maggie wondered if it was out of interest or because they were relieved to have the spotlight on Sarah.
Sarah ran the bony fingers of her right hand over her left forearm and kept her eyes trained on the floor. Seconds passed and her shoul
ders began to tremble as tears spilled onto her dime-store canvas tennis shoes.
“If you’re not quite ready to share, well move—”
“No.” Sarah looked up and wiped her shaking hand across her wet cheek. “It’s time. If I don’t talk about it now, I never will.”
Maggie took in everything about Sarah and felt the unfamiliar stirrings of compassion in her heart. Have I been so caught up in myself that I’ve forgotten how to feel for someone else? Maggie didn’t want to think about the answer. Not now, with Sarah about to bare her very soul.
“I never meant to get pregnant.” Sarah exhaled loudly and tilted her head up so that her eyes fell on a Victorian print of a woman and child that hung on the wall. Fresh tears filled her eyes, but when she continued speaking, her voice was steadier than before. “I never meant to sleep with the guys I dated.”
“Are you saying you wish you hadn’t been sexually active with them?” Dr. Baker’s question was soft, gentle.
Sarah nodded. “I was raised in a Christian home but, well, I didn’t think it was what I wanted. All my friends were going to parties and drinking, sleeping with their boyfriends. I didn’t want to be different. You know, Miss Goody Two-shoes.” Sarah hung her head. “I stopped going to church and talking to my mom. She asked me stuff like always, but I wouldn’t answer her. Just told her I was fine and to leave me alone. I deserved a life of my own.”
Sarah stopped talking and wiped at her cheeks. Maggie’s heart ached for the girl. How many others like Sarah were out there, suffering from a similar rebellion, with no one to talk to, to help them? No wonder there were so many hurting women in the church. Women like Sarah.
And like me, Maggie realized with a start. She’d been the same, hiding, in rebellion, not talking about her baby until…
“After that I ran with a wilder crowd. It was like I could do whatever I wanted for the first time. I broke curfew and snuck out my bedroom window in the middle of the night. The first time I got pregnant I was only fifteen.”
Dr. Baker shifted her position. “Could you tell us how you felt when you found out?”
Sarah crossed her ankles and clenched her hands as the weight of tormenting regret filled her face. “At first I was a little excited. My aunt had a new baby at that time and I used to love to—”
She gave way to two quick sobs. The middle-aged woman beside her put an arm over Sarah’s shoulders and hugged her close.
“Whenever you’re ready Sarah.” Dr. Baker’s voice was barely audible, more a verbal embrace than an urging to continue.
Sarah steadied herself, drew a deep breath, and leaned into the middle-aged woman’s arm. “I love babies. I always have. So at first I dreamed about having it and what it would look like and what names I would choose. But after a few weeks my boyfriend broke up with me and all of a sudden I was terrified. He paid for the abortion and a year later I was pregnant again—this time by another guy.”
“Sarah, help us understand something. Why did you choose to sleep with your next boyfriend after all the pain it caused you the first time around?”
Sarah’s forehead creased. “That wasn’t something I thought about much.” Her eyes met Dr. Baker’s. “I guess I figured I wasn’t worth anything anymore. And that was the only way I could please the guy I was with. But since I’ve been here I’ve thought about it a lot and I think maybe…well, maybe I wasn’t willing to be honest with myself.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, like I bought the lie.”
“The lie about abortion.”
Sarah nodded. “Right. I told myself everything the people at the clinic said was true. It wasn’t really a baby, it was my choice. It was legal. There was nothing wrong with what I did. Those kinds of things.”
“And you kept telling yourself those things after your second abortion?”
“Even after my third. The dreams didn’t start ‘till last year.”
Dr. Baker nodded as if she was familiar with Sarah’s dreams. “Are you comfortable talking about that?”
Sarah nodded and her face grew pale as she bit her lip. I’ve been there, Sarah, Maggie thought. “About a year ago, I started dreaming about my babies. All three of them. And there, in my hours of sleep, I began to really know them. There were two girls and a boy.”
Silence echoed through the room for a moment, and Maggie felt a unified concern for this girl who had so clearly suffered for her choices. This time Sarah clenched her hands so tightly her knuckles turned white. “Of course I don’t know if my babies really would have been two girls and a boy. But in my dreams they’re the same each time. Three babies, each in a crib, and me in the middle. One by one I would take them in my arms and love them, snuggle them the way I never…never got to—” Sarah hung her head and wept.
Several group members went to her then, each placing a hand of support on Sarah’s knees or shoulders.
Maggie wanted to join them, but she remained frozen in place.
“Do you want to stop, Sarah?”
The girl sniffed loudly and shook her head. “No, I’ve come this far. I want to finish if that’s okay.”
“Of course. Go ahead, whenever you’re ready.”
Sarah sat up straighter, and those who had surrounded her eased back to give her space. “The dream always changes then. After loving each of my babies, the room gets dark and a strong wind begins to blow. Then one at a time I’d take my little babies and walk them to the edge of a cliff. And…and throw them over the edge. I would look over and w-w-watch them until they disappeared. And I would know I was the most awful person in the world.”
Sarah’s body convulsed from the silent sobs that assaulted her. Maggie imagined living through such a dream, over and over and over again, and tears filled her own eyes. How had the girl survived such torment?
“Sarah, you know you don’t have anything to fear anymore, right?” Dr. Baker leaned over her knees bringing her that much closer to Sarah.
“I know. The dreams stopped as soon as I confessed everything to Christ. He forgives me, and in my head I know I can go on without the guilt. But…” She swallowed thickly. “I can still hear their cries as they fall into the canyon. And somewhere in heaven there are three little babies that should be—” a single sob escaped—“five, four, and two years old.”
Maggie felt her own tears turning into deep, desperate sobs. She wasn’t alone. There were other mothers who had turned their backs on their babies to make their own lives easier. But there was one difference. She had actually held her baby and then tossed her over a canyon’s edge. Or she might as well have done so. She had wanted to keep her little girl, but had instead given her away for the love of Ben Stovall. The wave of tears continued to wash over her.
The group uttered its support to Sarah, looking furtively at Maggie and the avalanche of pain that had been released. Dr. Baker took control. “Sarah, why don’t you and the others take a ten-minute break, and then we’ll meet back here. I think we’ve shared enough for this session, and I’d still like to spend some time looking at Scripture and talking about honesty.”
Maggie remained in her seat, her head down, tears still flowing, as the others quietly filed out of the room. Dr. Baker moved to the chair next to Maggie’s and placed a hand on her knee. “Touched a nerve?”
Maggie’s head was spinning and she tried to remember what Dr. Camas had said. Would Dr. Baker know her entire history? Had he shared it with her before assigning Maggie to the woman doctor’s group session? Maggie was, after all, a well-known personality. Dr. Baker would certainly know that much. The woman behind the “Maggie’s Mind” column shouldn’t be falling apart like this, in public, in group therapy, while a patient at a psychiatric hospital.
Let no deceit come from your lips…
No deceit? Maggie feared the thought. No deceit meant being transparent with people she’d never met. Her heart raced and a thin layer of perspiration broke out on her forehead. She couldn’t tell the truth, could she?
>
“Maggie…do you want to talk before the others come back?” Dr. Baker’s voice was patient, and suddenly Maggie knew the murmurs about avoiding deceit could only have come from a holy God. For the first time in longer than she could remember, Maggie chose to heed the counsel God had given her.
“Yes.”
Dr. Baker crossed one leg over the other and Maggie silently thanked her for not seeming in a rush. She wasn’t even sure she knew what to say. “How did it make you feel?”
Maggie thought about that for a moment. How did it make her feel? Guilty, of course. And like an awful wretch. “I…I guess I did the same thing she did. Only mine wasn’t in a dream.”
“I’m not sure I understand.”
Maggie wiped her tears and tried to compose herself, but still the sobbing continued. “No. I…I gave my baby girl up for adoption and then lived as if I’d never…never had her. Like she’d never existed.”
“Oh, Maggie.” Dr. Baker stroked Maggie’s back the way her mother had done when she was a child, before Maggie grew too old to warrant her attention. “Maggie, giving your baby up for adoption isn’t the same as tossing her into a canyon. Many times it’s the very kindest choice of all.”
Maggie’s tears came harder. How could this stranger understand? Help me, God…the darkness is closing in quickly. “I can’t talk about it now.” The others were returning without a word, careful not to interrupt her discussion with Dr. Baker.
“Very well. We can talk about it later. Perhaps you could come to group twenty minutes early tomorrow?”
Maggie nodded and sat up straighter in her chair. She controlled her tears for the remaining hour of group time and barely registered the things Dr. Baker was saying about honesty and God’s love. Something about a fictitious town named Grace where everyone lived in the sunshine and transparency of truth. A place completely motivated by the love of God.
Many of the others shared their thoughts on such a place, but Maggie kept silent. Every now and then a tear would slither down her cheek. Even later when she was in her room she couldn’t shake the mantle of desperation that had settled over her.
When Joy Came to Stay Page 19