A young girl places a hand on her slightly protruding mid-section evidence of a mistake. The abortion clinic across town waits. Her steps land heavy as she walks toward the scheduled appointment. The fate of a baby hangs precariously between the two worlds.
Ashen faces ponder colorless tiles as the clinic door opens. A white clad receptionist with a matronly smile presses release forms into her waiting hands. Papers rustle on clipboards as pens scratch background information on typewritten lines. She lays down the pen her life now etched on paper that will be alphabetically hidden in a metal file drawer.
Outside cars roll by with radios singing as women go in and out. Behind double doors machines hiss methodically. Heels tap on hard floors. Instruments clink on silver plated trays. Pills resting in white paper cups are administered to frightened women while efficient staff utter robotic words meant to reassure.
The machine stops, the muffled screams cease and the girl places a trembling hand on her flat stomach evidence of a mistake.
Tears roll down pale faces. Eyes gaze upward in horror, some look on with grotesque curiosity, others with disdain. The girl buries her face.
They watch as the man pushes upward in an effort to fill his lungs. Blood rolls down his brow and onto his cheek. His eyes scan the crowd searching each face with recognition. Pain surges through his hands and his feet.
The girl presses on her belly in an attempt to stop the burning pain. Her soul is battered and desperately alone. She searches the room for a face of compassion. She finds none.
Jesus looks upward, seeking, longing for the face of His Father. The Father turns His head.
Luke 22:33-34 When they came to the place called the skull, there they crucified him along with criminals – one on his right, the other on his left. Jesus said, “Father, forgive them for they do not know what they are doing.” And they divided up his clothes by casting lots.
The girl slips into her clothes in silence. Tears roll down her pale face.
Romans 8:5 But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us. NIV
Back home the girl collapses in a heap on her bed. She weeps bitterly. Jesus lifts her head gently, purposefully. She searches his face and in his eyes finds compassion. Tears course down her cheeks and with his nail scarred hand he brushes them away.
“Savior”, she whispers.
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