If you have ever walked into an abortion clinic... then you know.

Today I got a text.

She's going to have an abortion tomorrow.

Pro Life?
Don't get all condemning here.
Pro Choice?
Don't get all defensive.

It really shouldn't matter what we think. 
It doesn't matter what your philosophy is or your conviction is. This is a big deal.
Anyone that says abortion is a benign thing ... you're lying to yourself.
Any woman that doesn't see this is a massive decision? A life-altering decision?
...
Huge.

She's pregnant. She's scared. 
She's young. She's been living on her own since high school.
She's barely out of high school.
This isn't in her plan. And she has some really good life plans. 
She's been dealt some hard stuff since she was little. In fact, she survived abortion herself. Her mom changed her mind in the clinic, years and years ago. Her mom said yes to her life. Here she stands ... very independent. Very hard working. 
A good friend to so many, a good daughter with a dad who loves her. A great sister. A good student and this is in front of her.

Some of us, we can get all pious in our knowing. Or maybe you don't feel pious, but strong, passionate convictions .... the gentle heart beat of a little one in utero. It can create a visceral response, whatever the response is.

I have embraced motherhood. I knew I would be a mom, somehow.
It didn't scare me. That positive pregnancy test. It only brought joy.... and a little bit of fear.
But I embraced it.

My sweet friend. Not so much.
She's terrified.

The only part of this, right now, where I sit, the one thing that pisses me off is the lie she's been given her whole life. Maybe not directly to her. But a society that has taken on a god-complex. 
We've given our selves license to decide life or death stuff. 
We've given ourselves license to judge others, only by what we see.

Of course abortion is her option. For her. Where she stands. What she's been told. 

Tonight, maybe tomorrow before she goes in, maybe she'll say yes to sitting down again with me. Maybe she'll continue to be open to our friendship and know that I care for her. I care for her enough to tell her the risks. To tell her the realities of what abortion is and does. Medically. Physically. To give her options. Beautiful, beautiful redeeming options.

Maybe she'll hear me when I tell her about the emotional repercussions this will have. 
It will have on her.

Asking God to give me the words. Asking God to speak the words to her heart. To a heart that I've seen has been softened towards Him. A heart that is curious about learning about a God who loves, unconditionally.

And... if you've ever walked into a clinic. 
If you've already made this choice ... if this is part of your story

You know. 
This is no trip to the dentist.
This is definitely not a benign operation.

If you are reading this and you understand abortion, intimately
If you have personally experienced it.
If you have personally participated in it.
If you find yourself living in others-inflicted shame

Please hear me... you are loved.

If you feel ridiculed and judged,
If you have felt the weight of condemnation by a bunch of sometimes-well-meaning-sometimes-not pro-life people,
If you have been afraid to tell your story, talk about your past, been devastated by pointing fingers and accusatory words,

I am sorry!

I am so sorry for not speaking up for you - the wounded, scared, abandoned - you know who you are and I for one, want you to know,
You are loved!

I'm not speaking this out of direct experience, I'm not pretending to relate to your sometimes agonizing choices, your anger or your sorrow.
I've never had an abortion.

Yet, I'm afraid to say,
if I had become pregnant at 15 or 16, I'm not sure, then, what I would have chosen. Being pregnant, a teenager who wasn't married. That was just not allowed. 

Pregnant girls were often sent away.
Having a pregnant daughter who wasn't married was one of the scariest, shame-filled things for a "good Christian family."

That is why this happened, I'm afraid.

Before I knew it I found myself driving my sweet friend to the clinic. I didn’t know what it meant. Astonishing, but I really didn’t. I had said no to God long enough before that I couldn’t even hear His voice anymore. Telling me to stop. Turn around. Save this little life. She was my friend and she was pregnant. She asked for a ride. She wasn’t pregnant anymore. And that was that ... 

I played a part. 
Call it ignorance. Call it convenience or immaturity or fear.
In rejecting the voice of the One who never rejected me, I let my friend down. I will forever regret that. Forever mourn the loss, on so many levels.

I'm not writing this to berate a system or condemn well-meaning people. I'm not calling the Church or Christians to task (or maybe I am). 
I do know that God is so patient. Astoundingly patient in my life.

And deep in my soul I do believe in the sanctity of each precious life.
I believe with my whole being that each life is purposed, planned (by God).

He's a God of the fatherless and motherless and rejected.

But I do believe we are playing with fire when we play God. 

Oh I love my darling, scared friend... so much.
And I've never met a baby I don't love.

I'm holding my breath ...