During the summer of 1988 a 16yrold girl fell "in love"... as 16yrold girls sometimes do... He was all that and then some, especially since he was "an older man." Makes a girl... a youngest-of-five-always-being-referred-to-as-"The Baby"-sort-of-girl... feel quite grown up.
Sex will do that too. So will getting pregnant (oh the drama of it)... and then *dramatic sigh* ... an ABORTION (December 1988). Such a grown-up. So empowered. So independent.
So... DEAD. In fact, by the time of my second abortion (January 1990), I was with a boy I didn't even much like, and though I was quite aware that there was a real baby growing inside me, I just didn't care. "Inconvenient" is what I called "it"... and so, thank you pregnancy center for the free test (keep your literature, though), and thank you, abortion clinic, for letting me abort at 13 weeks, for a decent price. It was a long and painful procedure, but well worth it to preserve my freedom.
Yep. That was me. Honorable, yes?
"Honor your father and your mother, that your days may be prolonged in the land which the LORD your God gives you." Exodus 20:12
This commandment has special significance for me. Will you allow me to tell you why? There's a story (sure, there's always a story...) so please bear with me...
In 2006, I was slogging through post-abortion counseling and volunteering at a pregnancy center. I was studying the stages of fetal development, and I came to 13 weeks... bones developing, feet kicking... and then, I saw him... my second child... he had been fighting the abortion. He had been kicking, trying to get away... that's why the procedure took so long and caused so much pain and bleeding and the drops in blood pressure and the passing out and the smelling salts...
The poor, poor little dear... Writing about it now brings to mind the recent headlines about Dominick Calhoun and that horrific story of child abuse. What sort of monster...???
Just at that point of revelation, as I was staring into an abyss that I hadn't expected to find in my heart, God chose to part the clouds and shine a special light into my soul. As I sat there trembling, unable even to cry, in walked a woman... I don't remember her name, and I don't think anyone at the pregnancy center remembers her name either. I shared with her my revelation, and after we sat in silence for a moment, her face lit up and she said, "You know what!? Your children love you!"
And I knew it to be true. You know when you know something like that. It was as though she had just spoken with them on her cell phone and was passing their message on to me.
These children, safe in His bosom, were (and ARE) able to honor their mother with grace, covering her with their love which has been perfected under Christ's personal tutelage.
And of course they are quick learners. Smart ones, my children are...
From this story we may learn many things... for one, honoring our parents isn't about trying to convince ourselves that they were perfect. Instead, it's loving them in their imperfection, offering grace instead of judgment.
But.. what of that reward for honoring your parents? My children didn't get prolonged days in the land... unless... you consider the length of eternity, and the glory of the promised land yet to come... When we offer grace to our parents, and to anyone with the power to oppress... though it may "end" in martyrdom here in the shadowlands, we have yet to even glimpse our true country, where our days will indeed be long.
Thanks be to God!
