Written by Tabitha.

Names have been changed to protect privacy.  

We should obey His voice.

She looked at her feet as they dangled carelessly

Beyond the edge of the cold steel table.

The smooth worn cotton of the surgical gown tugged

Uncomfortably at her neck.

She shifts slightly to adjust the fabric, allowing

A more comfortable fit.

But her unease goes so much deeper

Than can be remedied by physical comforts.

It's her second time on the table

And although someone waits for her outside,

She sits on the table alone.

Fifteen years old the first time,

Her heart beating so fast and her thoughts

Imagining the disappointed looks on her parent's faces.

But she hadn't told her parents.

Her friends, and the father of what was growing inside her,

Had told her that it was her only option -

That it was the only thing to do.

How she had secretly yearned for the comfort of

Her mother's arms, for someone to tell,

For someone that would understand.

But the women at the clinic told her that it was best this way.

They told her that it was a lump of lifeless flesh,

Never showed her a picture of fingers or toes,

Arms, legs, mouth and eyes.

When she awoke, what had been inside was gone

And all that was left was pain and grief.

She had started spending innumerable hours alone -

Alone with her unease, her doubts, and her growing grief.

Those who had encouraged now told her to get over it.

Her boyfriend had moved on to someone new

But that little extinguished life tugged at her heart

Over the years and over the miles

And now, years later, in college now

It seems that her life had come full circle.

She feels like a little girl again

Alone and frightened and contemplating her "right"

And her "choice."

Life has been pretty good

And law school beckons like the red cloak of a matador

She sees it and cannot turn her head away.

But the stretching in her abdomen

Calls her mind away once more

She knows it is not the baby she is feeling,

But the strong drive of her body to nourish and prepare

A resting place, a hiding place, the perfect cradle.

One tear, then another, and so the familiar mantra begins

Fear battles compassion

The head battles the heart

And then, in the wee dark recesses of her mind,

There shines a light from her youth

Mrs. Thompson's Sunday School class

With the picture of Jesus warming the cold brick walls

Songs flood in unbeckoned - Jesus loves me, and

This little light of mine.

A smile flickers across her lips and she wipes away

A few stray tears with the back of her hand.

And for a moment,

A long beautiful moment

There is peace in her heart again.

Jesus Loves the Little Children echoing

In the recesses of her heart,

The words once whispered now an insistent reminder

That she was once in a warm protective womb

Trusting in the mother that had accidentally created her

Her life had been good,

And isn't that all this little being inside of her was striving for?

It's only chance? It's only shot at life.

She thinks of herself,

And how she would fight and kick and scream

If someone tried to take away her dreams

And she blushes deep as she realizes

That those with a voice may protest

While those with none must trust.

And now that trust is laid at the door of her heart.

And so it was, that with a deep breath

And the courage of a mother

That she walked back through the one-way door.

We should obey His voice.


(Mick & Tabitha thanked God for their Christian Adoption of twin boys!)

For more information please read Wherever We Go.

We encourage you to follow God's loving guidance.

Return to:  Surrender to Him Index


Go to:  Website Index


Return to:  Home Index




A Christian ministry helping birth parents & Christian couples for over 14 years!

1.800.277.7006     620.251.4405     adoption@christianadoption.com

Deborah S. Niles     P.O. Box 243     Coffeyville, KS     67337  

We are not an adoption agency, we are not registered, we are not licensed, and we are not professional counselors.

Click here to get an adoption or IVF loan!

© All rights reserved CHRISTIAN ADOPTION