Depend on the Lord
I was fifteen when I found it. Listed as parent was Elizabeth Mosley. Parent number two was “unknown.” The baby’s name was mine – Emily Mosley. As soon as my parents arrived home, I confronted them.
“Who is Elizabeth Mosley?”
Their shocked looks said so much.
“June, it’s time Emily knows the truth.”
“Yes, I suppose so.” My mom turned to me. “Emily, we adopted you when you were just a few hours old. We always meant to tell you, but the time didn’t seem right.”
“Where is my birth mother?”
Dad had tears in his eyes. “She died shortly after giving you birth. There was nothing the doctors could do.”
“How did she die?” I could hardly comprehend this.
Again that look passed between them. The seconds ticked away while I looked at them in silence.
“Peter, she deserves to know.”
Again dad spoke: “Almost sixteen years ago, our only child became pregnant. She refused to tell anyone who the father was. We supported her and loved her during the pregnancy. All went well until the eight month. Then something horrible happened.”
My dad seemed to drift into the past as he began to speak.
Peter and June were awakened by an earth-shattering scream. Rushing into Elizabeth’s bedroom, they were shocked to see a man beating her with a baseball bat.
“Call 911,” Peter yelled as he lunged at the intruder.
June called, then ran to her daughter’s side. Elizabeth was bleeding profusely and was barely conscious. “Mom,” she gasped, “my baby. Will she be all right? Will you and Dad take care of her and raise her, please?”
June murmured, “You’ll be fine, just hold on.”
Elizabeth only shook her head, “Mom, I’m going home to Jesus. You must take care of the baby for me.”
June agreed, tears in her eyes. Peter was able to subdue the man as the police and ambulance arrived.
An hour later, a tiny girl was born, weighing only five pounds. Elizabeth looked at her baby. “Thank you, Lord, for letting me see my baby. I know she’ll have a good home.”
Dr. Martin said sadly: “I’m sorry, there is nothing we can do for Elizabeth. Her injuries were too extensive. It’s a miracle she lived this long.”
Peter came back to the present with a sigh. “It’s so difficult remembering that day.”
“Wow, I’m that baby? My mom was killed? You’re my grandparents? Do we have any other relatives? And what about my father?”
My mom smiled, a bit sadly. “Neither of us had siblings or living relatives, so we were able to move from Arizona and settle here in Maine. We needed to get away from the memories. The boy – your father - is serving a life sentence for premeditated murder.”
I was stunned. “I need some time to myself.” I went to my room and got on my knees. “Oh, God, help me understand. My parents always taught me about You, but they lied about my parents. How can I reconcile this? Is my real mother with you?” I prayed for a long while and finally fell into an exhausted sleep. I awoke around midnight and looked outside to a beautiful display of stars. I thought I was dreaming as I heard a voice singing, “You are the star of my life, the light of the Lord. He will help you overcome all strife, depend on the Lord.”
In the morning, I said, “I think I was dreaming last night about a song.” As I repeated the words, my mom began to cry.
“Elizabeth sang that song to you every single day. I haven’t thought about it in years.”
Peace came over us as we all realized that God is in control, and, like a parent protects us, we need not fear when strife enters our life. Someday, I would meet my mom. For now, there is comfort knowing she is safe in heaven.
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