Where It All Began

by Lorana Hoopes

  “Please don’t kill your baby,” I said softly as she approached us.

  She looked up, fear in her eyes. Although she appeared completely put-together in all other ways, her eyes told the real story.

  “Please don’t kill your baby,” I repeated. “Can I tell you my story?”

  “Leave me alone. It’s my choice.” And she hurried past us into the clinic.

  I sighed, “I don’t think that went well.”

  Margaret squeezed my arm. “We won’t win them all, but when we can’t reach them with our words, we pray for them.” She closed her eyes and bowed her head, and I followed suit. “Lord, we don’t know the woman who just entered this center, but we saw the fear in her eyes. Please Lord, work on her heart and help her to see the error in her decision. Lord, protect the unborn child growing within her as only you can. Help us to have the right words to say to reach the women coming and going from this place. Amen.”

  We waited in silence. Soon another girl came walking up the pathway. Her blond hair covered her face as her head was down, focused on the ground. Her hands clenched and unclenched at her side.

  “You don’t have to do this,” I said to the girl. My voice was louder this time.

  Her head lifted to reveal a pale face with wild eyes, “I’m not doing anything.” She had to be young, seventeen or eighteen.

  “You’re planning to have an abortion,” I said, “and you don’t have to. In fact, I don’t think you even want to. You know it’s a baby, and that God has a plan for that baby’s life.” The girl’s eyes widened. I had no idea where the words had come from; they had just flowed out, but I could see that they affected this girl.

  “I . . . I’ve messed it all up,” the girl said, her eyes shimmering.

  “No, you haven’t. Not yet.”

  “You don’t understand. My father’s a pastor, and I slept with my boyfriend on prom night, and now I’m pregnant. This would ruin my father’s reputation.”

  Margaret spoke up then. “Let me ask you this. Would your father be angrier that you had sex or that you killed your baby?”

  The girl’s eyes darted to the left, to the right, to the ground. She clasped her hands together. “I don’t know.”

  “Well, I’m a pastor’s wife and while I don’t have children yet, I can tell you that while I hope my daughter won’t get pregnant out of marriage, I would never want her to have an abortion. People make mistakes, but God forgives, and our reputation is not worth a child’s life.”

  A spark of hope flickered in the young girl’s blue eyes. “Do you really think so?”

  “I know so,” Margaret said, “and if you’d like help talking to your parents, I’d be happy to be there with you.”

  The young girl sank to her knees on the sidewalk and put her hands on Margaret’s lap. “Thank you. I’ve been praying for a sign not to do this, and you were my answer. I’m so glad you were here. Will you go with me now before I lose my nerve again?”

  Margaret glanced over at me, and I nodded.

  “Of course,” Margaret said. “Let’s go talk to them now.”

  The two headed off, leaving me alone in the chair. I sent a prayer of thanks up to God, and also a prayer requesting clarity. It seemed like having someone talk to these girls and tell them there was hope was good, but actually telling their families with them might be needed as well. Was that what I should be doing? My prayer was interrupted by a shout.

  “Hey, you, you can’t harass patients here.”

  I opened my eyes, and my heart froze. The same woman who had been my nurse six years ago stood before me now. She appeared even more hardened than before, but it was her.

  “I’m not harassing anyone. I’m simply telling them what you won’t.” My hand shook on my lap, and I tucked it under my leg to conceal it.

  “What are you talking about? We give full disclosure here. We are strictly by the book.”

  I tilted my head and gazed evenly at her. “You don’t remember me, do you?”

  “No, why would I?” The woman flapped her arms in exasperation before crossing them across her chest.

  “Because six years ago, I had an abortion here, and you were my nurse.”

  “You had an abortion and now you’re trying to take the choice away from other women?”

  “This center never told me of the risks. My abortion caused scarring on my uterus that prevented me from having a child when I was ready.”

  “There are always risks to surgery. It was on the form you filled out when you came in.”

  She could have been right about that. I remembered filling the form out, but had no memory of what was on it. “I was young, and I was scared. The risks should have been told to me, so I truly had a choice. What you do here isn’t choice. It’s an assembly line butcher shop. I lost my ability to have children, and I may not reach them all, but I will sit here and talk to as many women as I can to try and save them from what happened to me. You can’t stop me from talking. I’m not blocking them from entering your building.”

  “I’m calling the police,” she said, whirling around back to the building.

  “Go ahead,” I called, “the law is on my side.” As the door closed behind her, I shook my head at the boldness that had come out of me. It had to be God, because inside I was shaking like a leaf. I took a deep breath to calm my racing heart, and the door opened again.

  The woman in the blue suit was exiting. It had been too fast; she couldn’t have had the procedure that quickly. Maybe I was being given a second chance. When she saw me, she dropped her eyes and walked a little faster.

  “I regret my abortion,” I said, “Please don’t make my mistake.”

  She stopped and slowly raised her face to look at me. “You had an abortion?” Her voice was barely a whisper.

  I nodded, “It was the worst mistake of my life. I had it here, and they botched the procedure and scarred my uterus. I’ll never be able to have kids. When I told my husband, we ended up in an accident, and that’s how I ended up in this chair. I’d do anything to take mine back. Please don’t make the same choice.”

  The woman sat down on the bench beside me. “I’m not ready for children though. I just started my career, and my husband just started at his firm. He’s working long hours, and we can’t afford a baby right now.”

  “What’s your name?” I asked her.

  “Melanie.”

  “Melanie, people always say they can’t afford a baby, but God provides. He has given you a precious gift. I know it seems impossible right now, but if you ask him, God will show you how you can make it through a difficult time. Have you told your husband?”

  Melanie shook her head.

  “Well, I think he deserves to know. Maybe he’ll surprise you and tell you he is ready for a child. Even if he doesn’t, if there’s even a chance that you could end up like me, are you really willing to take it?”

  “I don’t know,” Melanie wrung her hands. “I don’t know God; so why would he help me?”

  “Because he loves you, and he loves that child growing inside of you right now. This is not what he wants for you. If you need help, there are churches and agencies who will help you throughout your pregnancy. I’d love to introduce you to my church if you want. Please, at least take a few days and think about it.”

  Melanie nodded slowly. “Okay, I will. Thank you.”

  As the woman walked away, I sent up another prayer for her.

  We stayed the whole day until the clinic closed. We didn’t reach everyone, but the fact that we saved even one baby had us excited on our way home.

  “The parents were so understanding,” Margaret said. “They were disappointed, naturally, but they told her that they still loved her and that they would love the baby whether she decided to keep the baby or put him/her up for adoption. I wish more kids knew their parents would be supportive.”

  “Maybe we can start a class at church, a communication class. We can teach parents how to communicate with their teens an
d teach teens that their parents will listen. Do you think people would come?” I asked.

  She smiled at me. “I think that would be amazing, and yes I think people would come. There are so many issues that I think parents miss today. Opening communication between parents and their teens would be huge.”

  That night after the devotional with Tony and Margaret, I lay in bed looking over the prayer journal. I had written down the name or description of every woman who had come into the clinic that day. As I ran my finger down the list, I prayed for them all again. Though it had been hard to be there again and even harder to know we didn’t save all the babies, just knowing that we had saved one gave me a new purpose for life.

  “I’m glad to see you smiling,” Henry said next to me.

  I closed the journal and set it on the table beside me. “I’m glad to be smiling,” I answered.

  He set down his own book and took me in his arms.

  The next day Margaret and I spent the morning at the center and the afternoon at church talking to Tony and the other pastors about our idea for a communications class. Though most of the men, besides Tony, were all older, they agreed that there was definitely a need for a class.

  “I also wanted to ask if we had or could set up an outreach program of sorts?” I spoke up. “There were a lot of women who seemed to want help telling their spouses or parents and others who needed help knowing how they would get through the nine months. Do we have something like that?”

  The men exchanged glances and then returned their gaze at me. “We don’t,” Pastor Dan, the head pastor, said, “but how would you feel about starting one?”

  My heart thudded. I didn’t know the first thing about starting one, but if they believed I could, I would do it. “I don’t know how, but I’d be honored to.”

  “In fact,” Dan continued, “Tony’s been telling us a lot about you, and we’d like to interview you as our ministry outreach person. It doesn’t pay a whole lot, but it would be enough to supplement your income.”

  My head dropped forward, and my eyes widened, “You want me?”

  “You have a gift for talking to these women, and you’ve already discovered ways to help them. We think you’d be a natural. We’d even like you to continue your ministry at the clinic, so the position would be in the afternoons here so you could meet with women or hold classes, and in the morning you’d be out at the clinic.”

  “I’d like to pray about it,” I said trying to control the smile bursting on my face. Though I had no idea what it would entail, this sounded like a dream job for me.

  “We wouldn’t have it any other way,” he agreed, “and of course we need to do a formal interview.”

  Margaret squeezed my arm, and after shaking all the pastor’s hands, she and I left. “Oh, Sandra, that’s wonderful,” she said when we were in the hall.

  Emotion overwhelmed me, and I stared at her through watery eyes. “It’s amazing, and it never would have happened without you and your husband. I can never thank you enough.”

  Henry and my parents were equally excited when I told them the news that evening. Together, we all prayed for guidance and wisdom in this new chapter of my life. Peace descended on me, and I had no doubts whatsoever that this was what God was calling me to do. I couldn’t wait to tell Raquel the next morning when I saw her.

  When I pulled into the parking lot, the fear fell on me again. While I knew what I was doing was right, it didn’t stop the fear and disgust I felt for this place. I wondered if it would ever get easier.

  The sun was shining today, and it seemed odd. Here was this black, soulless place in the middle of the warm sunshine. I shivered and brushed the thought away. A few minutes later, Raquel came walking up. She shivered too and wrapped her arms around herself.

  “Ugh,” she said as she sat on the bench beside me, “it’s like this place steals the heat away.

  My eyes widened at her, “You feel it too? I thought it was just me because this was where I killed Isaac.”

  She shook her head, “No, it’s not just you. I didn’t have my procedure here, but it feels dark. I don’t remember feeling like that when I went to the clinic for the procedure, do you think we feel it now because we know how wrong it is?”

  “Maybe,” A glance around revealed no ominous shadows lurking.

  “So, what do we do now?” she asked changing the subject.

  “First, we pray,” I said and led us in a prayer for strength, wisdom, and the ability to reach the women who were undoubtedly coming. Then I filled her in on my interview later that day.

  “Sandra, that’s wonderful, and what a great idea. I’ll ask at the hospital if there’s anything we can do to help. Do you think we would like your church?”

  “I thought you guys were happy at the old church?”

  She smiled, “We are, but now that it appears I’ve got my friend back, I’d like to go to church with her, especially since I don’t see her at work anymore.”

  A warmth flooded over me, and I returned her smile. “I’d love that.”

  At that moment, a dark haired woman came up the sidewalk. “Please don’t kill your baby,” I said to her.

  She whipped around to glare at us. “It’s my choice,” she said, “I can do what I want, and it’s none of your business.”

  “I thought it was my choice too, but it took my ability to ever have kids,” I called to her, but she had hurried ahead, and my words bounced off her back.

  “Are they always like that?” Raquel asked as I pulled out my journal to write down the woman’s description.

  “No, sometimes they’re worse, and sometimes they’re better.”

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “This is my prayer journal, and I write down every woman who comes by so I can pray for her.”

  “What if they have the procedure though? Not much to pray for then.”

  I tilted my head at her, “Do you think you and I don’t need prayer?” Her face scrunched in confusion and then she brought her hand to her mouth, and I knew she understood.

  The morning was slow, which gave Raquel and I time to talk and catch up. Only five women came in while we were there, and while we didn’t save the first one’s baby, we saved one for sure and left the other three thinking. Raquel hugged me goodbye and wished me luck on the interview, promising to come to church on Sunday.

  I should have been nervous on the drive to church, but God had granted me peace today. I knew this was where he wanted me right now, and I knew that unless I made some giant mistake that the job was mine.

  The interview room was small and windowless. The two men and two women took turns asking me questions and writing down my responses. The words flowed out of me without much thought. At the end, the four smiled and the pastor in the middle offered me the job on the spot. I accepted, and one of the women showed me to what would be my office.

  It wasn’t much, a small room with a desk, two chairs, a bookshelf, and a window, but as I rolled behind the desk, I knew it was where I belonged.

  A New Outlook on Life

  A year later, the phone rang on my desk. Somehow, I knew this was the call I had been waiting for.

  With my life on track, my parents had finally moved out of our house, though they had decided to move to Mesquite to be closer to us in case we needed anything. They now lived a few doors down, but I welcomed the proximity. Henry’s parents too had become more of a feature in our lives, coming to visit during the summer for a few weeks.

  My job had taken off, and I felt fulfilled with the help I was providing women and their families, both through the church and the sidewalk ministry. I had decided to delay going back to school because the job allowed me to do everything I wanted, but the biggest change had been our decision about children.

  After several long discussions and lots of time spent in prayer, Henry and I had decided to become foster parents. We had attended the informational meeting and gone through the thirty-five hours of pre-service training
. The case worker had conducted the home study and approved our application. The last few months we had been waiting, waiting for the phone to ring with the news that a child was coming into our lives.

  My hand was shaking as I reached for the phone. “This is Sandra. How may I help you?”

  “Sandra? It’s Claire. I have a child if you and Henry are ready. A boy, about seven years old.”

  My heart froze in my chest. Isaac would have been seven if he had lived. I hadn’t thought that we might get a child that would be Isaac’s age, though we had agreed to foster any age.

  “Sandra, are you there?”

  “Yes, I’m sorry,” I said, recovering my voice. “We would love to foster him.”

  “Great, his name is James. He was being raised by his mother, but she was just arrested for drug use again. Unless she gets time off for good behavior, I suspect you’ll have him for at least a year. I’ll bring him by this evening. Will that give you enough time to get whatever supplies you need?”

  “Of course.” I was already making a list in my head. We had made one room ready for an older child with a bed, a dresser, and some toys, and the other room ready for a younger child with a crib. There was also the original master bedroom that we had converted into two more rooms, but we hadn’t decorated them yet. I figured we would need to get some clothes for the boy and maybe a few older toys. After getting his size from Claire, I hung up with her and then called Henry to tell him the good news.

  Later that evening, after the shopping was all finished, Henry and I sat in front of the front door waiting for Claire and James. His hand was on my shoulder, and I could feel his nerves flowing through his touch. My stomach was also a bundle of nerves.

  At seven pm, the doorbell rang, and Henry and I looked at each other. A mixture of love and fear passed in that glance.