by Darrel Bird
And Nothing but the Truth
As the next week passed, Lori’s popular girlfriends twittered on about their conquest for future husbands. Jimmy McGowan avoided her altogether, and she hardly saw him. Her family ignored her, her siblings making secret glances out of the corner of their eyes. On Friday, she shoved her books in her locker and walked the few blocks home with just her Bible in her hand.
She walked out of her room on Sabbath morning, her dress immaculate and her shoes polished and spotless. She looked forward to going to church this morning as they rode the short mile and a half to the church house that sat in a hidden copse of trees by the side of the road.
The family took their customary seat, three rows behind the McGowans and across the aisle. Jimmy McGowan turned and glared at Lori with hatred. She pretended she didn’t see, but it struck her to the quick as she realized he had no feeling for her whatsoever. He had used her to get what he wanted.
As the minister came to the podium to preach the Sabbath message, Lori began to look around at the people. The noise of the whispering and the gurgling water bottles kept up a constant low rise and fall as the pastor preached about the beginning of the church and the necessity of keeping the Sabbath. When he started preaching about the investigative judgment, Lori realized with horror that the whole thing was a sham. These were just people going through the motions of a Sabbath service, and she saw it for what it was and knew for sure that the Lord had opened her eyes that day.
When the dismissal prayer was said, her father didn’t move to go, but sat in his seat. The McGowans paraded past and Dr. McGowan looked at the family, elevated his chin and walked on. Jimmy McGowan never glanced their way, and Mrs. McGowan walked with her chin in the air as if no one else in the world existed.
Lori’s father looked at her with distaste and got up to go, the family following out to the car. They were all silent on the way home, her Mom looking worried, and her Dad looking sternly at the road. Her siblings usually had to be quieted down because they picked at one another in the car; but today, they too looked worried. When they arrived home, Lori announced she wasn’t hungry, and went straight to her room.
A little later Frank knocked softly on her door. Lori was surprised when her father opened the door. “Can we talk?”
“I guess.”
“Dr. McGowan has agreed to furnish an abortion if you will have it,” he said softly, but the hardness of his eyes belied the soft tone. Lori was shocked yet again at the evil she saw there. It was like her eyes had opened up on another world; she saw not only with her eyes, but with her spirit, the deepest part of her.
“No Dad, I told you, I will not kill my child.” She could read the disappointment in his eyes, and then his eyes went crafty, set.
“Just as you will. However, we cannot support you in that decision.” And he turned to go.
About four o’clock Lori walked out of the house to take a walk, and she saw Mrs. McGruder on her knees, busily picking bits of grass out of her flower beds as she tended her large red, pink, and yellow roses. She walked across her yard to where she knelt. “Mrs. Mcgruder, may I talk to you?”
“Why certainly, child,” she said as she looked up. She had tiny beads of sweat on her cheeks and above her lip; her kind and gentle eyes seemed to look into the depths of Lori’s soul.
“I don’t mean here, I mean inside.”
“Well…it’s about time for some refreshment for this old gal anyhow. Why don’t we go inside for some lemonade?” she said, rubbing her knees as she got to her feet. “I’ll tell you child, these old bones are getting mighty creaky,” she declared with a grimace.
After leading Lori through the side door and into the small, old fashioned, but spotless kitchen, Mrs. McGruder pulled back the old fashioned chrome chair, reminiscent of the late fifty’s, and bade Lori sit. She got out the glasses and the lemonade from the refrigerator and poured each of them a tall glass. Lori thanked her and swallowed twice before setting the glass down, the delicious lemonade coursing through her system, refreshing her. Mrs. McGruder pulled back her chair and sat down with a sigh of relief. Lori looked at the woman with shame because she knew so little about her lifelong neighbor.
“Now child, what’s on your mind?” she inquired.
Lori looked at her eyes, wondering if she could trust her, then decided she could, as she saw the kindness in those sparkling gray eyes. “Mrs. McGruder, I am pregnant, and I want to have this child. I am afraid my parents will force me into an abortion; I can’t have that and I don’t know what to do.” She told her all, including the experience she had had last Sabbath, and including all that she was beginning to realize about her family religion. She also told her about the whippings. Mrs. McGruder sipped her lemonade and said nothing as Lori poured her heart out to this kind woman.
Finally, she spoke, “My lands child, you have a load on your plate. I do know someone who can possibly help you, but child, you will have to stand strong and be resolute in order for them to help you. Are you sure you are up to this? It won’t be easy, you know.”
“Yes, I know that; tell me.”
Mrs. McGruder looked at this woman-child with wonder in her eyes, and it reminded her of her own adolescence. For a moment, her mind was lost in reverie, but she forced it back to the problem at hand.
“My daughter works with unwed mothers. Her group furnishes them a home, and they may be able to help you. Would you like me to call her?”
“Oh, yes I would, Mrs. McGruder, I would be forever grateful, but how would I be able to pay? My father would never pay.”
“You don’t worry about that child; it will be taken care of.”
“By whom, Mrs. McGruder?”
“Well… let’s just say you have a friend in the business.” She smiled.
“Did you know my daughter was born out of wedlock?”
“You, Mrs. McGruder?”
“The one and the same, I was about your age, and I gave in to a boy just like you did and out of that came my beautiful daughter. I know you will like her.”
“Now you better run on home, and I will make the call.”
As Lori got up to go, she reached out to shake Mrs. McGruder’s hand, and Mrs. McGruder enfolded her in her arms and they both cried a little. Lori's heart swelled with love for this kind woman. They had made a spiritual connection that Lori had never had with anyone, was unfamiliar with, and amazed at.
As the week passed, she endured the silence from her parents. Her siblings had begun to sneer at her openly, and her heart ached as never before. On Friday Mrs. McGruder waved her over as she returned from school. “I have someone I want you to meet, Lori; could you come inside?”
Lori walked with Mrs. McGruder into the small kitchen and there sat a woman in her late fifties. The woman arose as they entered. “This is my daughter, Anne; Anne, this is Lori.” Anne reached out to shake her hand. She had kind eyes like her mother’s, and she had her features.
“My mother has told me about you, and I am here to help you, if you want or need help with your pregnancy.”
“Yes, I do,” Lori said and sat down at the table. Mrs. McGruder busied herself making tea for the three of them as Anne began to explain what she did. “We have a large house on the other side of town; we furnish a room and medical care for unwed mothers who want to have their babies in a secluded and safe place.
“I want to explain to you that these women are from all walks of life; some have been beaten, some have been prostitutes, and some are like yourself. However, all want to have their babies, and for various reasons, do not believe in abortion. You would share a room with another girl about your age. That is the only opening we have right now. Would you like to go and try it?”
“What is the girl like?” Lori asked.
“She had been beaten terribly by a pimp, and left to die in an alley down in greater Los Angeles. The police found her and brought her to us.”
“Yes, I’d like to try.” Lori res
ponded.
“Good. If your parents give you a hard time, we can get a court order; the judge knows us and works with us. Go home and gather your clothing and your toiletries, and my mother will drive you to our place. I have to go and see someone else today, so I will see you then.” And she got up to go.
So Help Me God
Anne McGruder started her car, drove down the street a short distance, then pulled over and shut off the ignition. She leaned her forehead against the top of the steering wheel as the tears of burden came. So much to do and so little time to do it in.
During the past year, it seemed to her that her work load had increased to double the work load she had had the year before. She had to turn down all except the most desperate of them who sought her help or were recommended to her by the police department. This young woman did not seem to fit into that category, and she also knew that the next one she was to interview probably would, yet she knew her mother had good reason to call her and ask for help for the girl.
“Oh Father, how am I going to do all this? Please help me to have faith,” she prayed. She was met by silence as she wiped her eyes resolutely. She started the car that was almost new, but already had one hundred thousand miles on the odometer. She remembered how she had come to have this car. A car dealer had called her, telling her that they had a new car waiting for her that spring. She had told the man, “I do not have the money for a new car.” “Oh, it’s been paid for!” the man on the phone had said. “All you need to do is come down and sign the title and registration papers.”
She never did find out who paid for that car. She smiled as she pulled out into the street, God will provide, came the words through her head that she had heard so many times before. It seemed as if just as she thought she could not last another day, or make another mile, then something would happen and the need would be filled.
She could not see herself doing any other work, since the day, fifteen years ago, she had found the young girl beaten and sobbing her heart out by the side of the road. She had taken the girl in and taken care of her, and since that day God had brought her a solid line of girls from every walk of life.
A couple of times she had wanted to quit. She had prayed, “Oh God, I just can’t do this any more.” Immediately the Holy Spirit had spoken to her and said, “Through my strength you can do all things.” From that day on, she sought to walk and work in Gods own strength. Times of exhaustion came, but after a few days of rest, the Lord would strengthen her. She knew that this was coming from outside her.
In her fifth year of taking money from wherever she could get it, including her husbands’ wages, he had divorced her and left her for some chick half his age. But even with a breaking, sick heart, she still saw the terrible need of these girls who were sometimes just twelve or thirteen years old. Most came off the streets of LA, and she was known to every police precinct and court judge in the Los Angeles basin.
“Well old new car, just get me down the road, or I’ll sell you to the junk yard so the dogs can have a nice place to sleep.” She laughed as joy came out of nowhere and flooded her soul. She sang songs of praise as she drove the fifteen miles to her next appointment.
Lori was terrified, but she walked the few yards back to her house resolutely. She entered in through the Jesus door and there stood her father, mother and siblings, waiting for her. Her father glared at her and spoke, “Dr. McGowan will