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Author: Testimony,
Lord God, make me an instrument of your love in defending the unborn and their mothers. I believe you want me to write this letter. Lead me — and the hearts of those who read it — to your infinite love. Whenever I discuss abortion with someone, I always say: “You may not kill! Even if the child is conceived as the result of rape. Even if the mother’s life is threatened.” Apart from showing my tears and relating my story, there is nothing more I can say. I will begin at the end. A few days ago I had a dream. I was holding a newborn child in my arms. I had no clothes for it, so I wrapped it in a napkin and took it with me to the store. But they had nothing there for it either. The people serving me seemed strangely spiritless. I wondered how it was that I had not prepared myself for the birth of the child and had nothing ready for it. The sight of the little one calmed me. It did not seem to be cold and I felt good having it close to me. The child had a lovely boy’s face, dark blond hair and — teeth. Yes, a whole mouth of shiny white teeth! On waking up, I thought about the dream. I asked God to tell me what it meant, if indeed it had a meaning; and, if it did not, to help me to forget it. The next day, while I was looking through a new issue of Love One Another Magazine, the following words sprang to my eyes: “Ask Jesus to tell you the sex of your child. Give it a name and ask it to forgive you for the abortion.” The following day, while reciting the Litany for the Faithful Departed, I began involuntarily to wonder about the child’s name. I knew the child of my dream was a boy. I tried to think up suitable names for him — names that I liked or associated with people I loved. Suddenly the name Joseph went straight to my heart, and I stopped looking for others. It was Joseph — my little Saint Joseph! While praying that evening, I wept and talked with Jesus and my child. With all my heart I asked for my son’s pardon. I told him how much I loved him and how I had worried about him for so many years, not knowing the fate of his soul after I had had his body ripped to pieces. How I regretted what I had done! How I wanted to reverse the deed! How I would give anything — indeed, my very life — to see it undone! If someone had the nerve now to tell me to my face that he or she was in favor of abortion, I would have nothing to reply with but my tears. I still have not related the most important thing. My experience was by no means unique. An unexpected pregnancy upsets one’s plans. The new situation can be terrifying to a mother. At that time I had no one to give me an encouraging word — not a single word. Finding a doctor was so easy. My husband forked out the money. I suppose I switched off my conscience. The reality of what I had done hit me that very night. I had a dream. I remember it distinctly. I was pushing my unborn child into the toilet and trying to flush it down. I went to confession and wept bitterly. Though I received absolution, I was unable to believe God could love me after what I had done. Several years would elapse before I would hear the words: “She loves much to whom much is forgiven.” Only then did I raise my head in hope. Now I know that God loves me. I experience His love and care every day. More than that — and some may take offence at this — I feel I am “God’s pet” (as Fr. Twardowski was fond of saying.) As of yesterday, I know my little St. Joseph loves me and, strange as it may sound, feels at ease with me. I feel this deeply. To all hurting mothers like me, I say: “Let’s get down to work! To love! To prayer! To expressing gratitude! To trusting! The one, to whom much is forgiven, is capable of greater love and has constant cause to be thankful.” A mother The above article was published with permission from "Love One Another!" in June 2016. Read more Christian articles (English)
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