Just Remember

I read the book "Tilly" (a beautiful story about a mother who regrets having an abortion and dreams of Heaven where she meets her daughter and finds healing in the love and forgiveness of both Jesus and her daughter) this afternoon in the warm sunshine and watched the movie a couple days ago, something I've decided I'd like to do each year around this time, in remembrance of Luke Shiloh.

I have been feeling so down this past week, wondering about all that might have been had I chosen a different path. Then, Saturday night, I attended a special church service in Raleigh where the pastor was specifically addressing the sanctity of unborn human life, but at the same time sharing about the mercy of Jesus for those who have been involved in abortion. It was encouraging to see a pastor speaking out boldly about such a tough topic.

I kept thinking how strange it was that this service was held on the exact date that I had an abortion 6 years ago. And I never could have imagined then how I'd be sitting in a service on the same date, that many years later, full of regret and painful memories, but also full of hope. I am so comforted in knowing God was not surprised by my choices and had a plan and purpose in it all. And my child's life still matters and is still making an impact on this world.

So as this weekend comes to a close, as do the memories of that weekend 6 years ago, I feel fresh peace that passes all understanding and the gentle assurance that one day, I will know Luke in a way I never will on Earth and there will be no more sorrow. For now, I will speak his name and share his legacy and rejoice over redemption made possible through Christ's shed blood. I deeply desire to share with others the transforming love and mercy that Christ has shown me. But I do so hope that by sharing my story, others won't have to know this lifelong regret. I fully believe Luke loves me and knows I love him.

On the last page of "Tilly" there are words written that bring my eyes to tears and cause my heart to nod along in understanding, "And she would weep quietly, with this and with every new April, for all the children who had no names and no parents, who still lived though never born. Most of all, she would weep for the little daughter she never knew, and give whispered words to what she had always known: "Tilly, I love you." But now her heart was at peace, and that peace was hers to keep. She only wanted to remember. Just remember."

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