A few years back, I had to have minor surgery. I didn't have general anesthesia, just some very powerful pain medication coupled with Propofol, the drug that gained notoriety after its role in Michael Jackson's death. I had just been wheeled into the recovery room when I became aware of a patient sobbing in the cubby next to me. The curtain was drawn but I could clearly hear her seemingly inconsolable sobs and the words of comfort that a nurse anesthetist was offering her.
I surmised from the conversation, which it was impossible not to hear, that the woman had just undergone an abortion. And I surmised from her uncontrollable crying that she realized the enormity of what she'd done.
The anesthesia provided tried to reassure her. She didn't tell her she did the right thing, nor did she tell her she did the wrong thing. She simply told her that aside from herself and the doctor, no one else knew what had just transpired in the OR.
Even under the effects of the waning drugs, I thought to myself how wrong that was: God knew what she did, because He knows all things. But the conversation was none of my business, even though it was impossible not to overhear. In some small way, I think I was meant to hear it so that I could pray for the young woman.
She went on to explain that she had three kids and no means of support for them and that she felt that she did what was best for all of them. But you could tell she didn't believe her own words. I felt heartbroken for her and when I recall hearing her pain, I am still heartbroken.
So today, as we pray for the scourge of abortion to end, I ask you to keep this young woman in your prayers. Pray that she appropriately sought God's forgiveness and by now, knows that His Mercy is infinite for those who seek it.
On a happier note, I was coming down the hall today and heard a familiar sound, that of a newborn baby wailing. The baby sounded like she was not more than a few days old. I have to say that if I was a few years younger, the sound may have induced let-down, a phenomenon that some of the women who read this blog will surely understand.
I just had to catch up to the grandmother who was carrying the little screamer as her daughter pushed the empty carriage so I could get a peek.
"It's been a long time since I've heard that sound," I said as I stopped to admire the baby.
"Me too," she said, beaming. The mother looked like she was still in her teens. They didn't look like they came from means, but here they were with this priceless little bundle, just four-days-old. What a wonderful sight and sound on a day like today.