A few blogs ago I wrote about one of my friends and how she was in a battle to keep her baby or not. My sweet friend had already tried to abort the baby 4 different times and she was never successful, so her next solution was to just had the baby over to me.
I would go over to her house every Sunday afternoon and just love on her and just speak life over her when all she ever heard was death. She would always keep her head down in shame and would never look me in the eyes, unless we were talking about "the man in white" who would come to her at night in her dreams. In those small little moments I would watch her come alive, I saw her shoulders lay back in safety, and watch the walls around her heart fall. Our glory moments we had together. There was no music, no fluff, no lights or signs and wonders, it was just her telling ME about the "the man in white". That night as I left her house it was different. The way she hugged me was different, the way she asked me one more time to raise her baby was different. It was just different.
We had a plan, my pastor and I. We had a plan for if ... well when she came to my door step with this baby. We were prepared to hand the baby off to the police station, and from there they would place our sweet baby in an orphanage.... I was given the honor to name the baby, and I was trying so hard to guard my heart and prepare my self to hand the baby over. The orphanage would be better than I. I am in no position to take this baby, nor has God asked me to.... We had a plan, it was a plan we have all prayed over, cried over, and I know even to this day that was the right plan and it was going to take place in just a few short days.
Sunday rolled around, and I hadn't heard from my friend in a few days. She hadn't had the baby yet so I made my normal trek over to her house. As I walked in, the door was wide open and the room was empty. All that was left of the room was dirt. She was gone. I tried calling her phone over and over and over again,but her phone was off. I just stood in the door and cried out to God. I opened my eyes to find one of the village momma's holding my hand. With tears in her eyes, she started to tell me where my friend was. The night before she had tried just one more time to abort the baby and she was successful. It was a little girl, Baby Isabella. ( Isabella means God's promise)
Ah. The plan. We had a plan.
The momma then goes on to tell me the next morning she packed up all her stuff and the kids and just left. As she was leaving, she kept saying "I am so shamed, I am so shamed", "Bre Bre, will be so shamed"...
My heart hurts.I miss my friend. My heart hurts for her. I will never know what it feels like to have death knocking on the door for the baby inside me. I will never know what it feels like to not choose life for a baby whom I fear with live in the same poverty and hell my other kids live in. I will never know.
Abortion is not the answer. It never was the answer. My friend didn't want to have Baby Isabella out of fear, and hurt. She was walking in a life of darkness and couldn't bare to drag one more child in the dirt with her. I do know that I love her even more now. My heart longs to just hold her, and pray away the shame. I do know that "the man in white" never left her side. I do know that even in all the sorrow, the joy is that Baby Isabella is getting rocked in the fathers love. Baby Isabella, my sweet girl who will be waiting for me at the pearly gates
Pray with me for my friend, and for her life. Pray protection and love to just fill the pain and shame. Pray that she will say YES to Jesus' love and that she will stop and let him love her. Pray for my heart, and the hearts of all the women all over the world, dealing with shame and death knocking at their babies door.
Romans 12:12 Rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer.
Romans 8:6 For to set the mind on the flesh is death, but to set the mind on the Spirit is life and peace.
