Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: Click (04/18/13)
- TITLE: The letter
By Leola Ogle
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She stared out the window at the bleak drizzle of rain that had been coming down all morning. The grayness of the day matched her mood. “God, help me,” she whispered in an agonized plea. She rubbed her temples again and asked herself what she should say to him. What would he want to know? Did she love him? Had she ever loved him? Did she miss him? Did she ever think about him? If he walked into the room right now, she was sure he would want to know those things. And why -- she was sure he would ask why.
She would be honest. He deserved that. She was so young, and she didn’t really know what love was. It was easy to walk away from him, to let him go. To the question of why, she would say it was because she was selfish, and scared. Scared of commitment. And ignorant – she didn’t know, didn’t have a clue.
Did she love him? That was a tough one. She would have to say no. At least not then. But now? Yes, she loved him. Deeply, sorrowfully loved him. Did she ever think of him? No, not at first, not for years. When a memory of him would push its way into her thoughts, squeeze at her heart, she would ignore it, cast it aside. Now she thought of him all the time, a haunting that flooded her eyes with tears, and pulled at her heart with strings of regret and longing.
Fresh tears flooded her eyes as she turned from the window. Sharon would be here in a couple of hours. After that her children, Alex and Megan, would be coming home from school. Then her husband, Daniel, would come home from work and they would eat supper like any happy, well-adjusted family.
God had been good to her over the years, blessing her with a good husband and beautiful children. Daniel hadn’t known about him for a number of years. It wasn’t until they gave their hearts to the Lord, became Christians, that the memory of him surfaced. She had told Daniel then. He had held her and let her cry, comforting her with murmurs of compassion.
It was Sharon who had suggested she needed closure. “Write him a letter. Say all the things you wish you could say to him. Ask him for forgiveness and then forgive yourself. God has already forgiven you, Sally. Once you’re able to put all your thoughts onto paper, we will hold that paper and have a memorial service for him.”
Today was the day. She was ready to move on, to accept God’s grace, and forgive herself. She turned on her laptop, clicked on Microsoft Office Word, and let her fingers click across the keyboard as the words flowed from her heart.
I have named you David. In Hebrew David means beloved. I was sixteen years old when I found out I was pregnant.....
Tears flowed freely down her cheeks as Sally poured out her heart to the child she had aborted. Maybe she shouldn’t have known it was a boy. The harsh, crabby nurse seemed to delight in spitting the information at her as her brain cleared during recovery. Or maybe the memory wasn’t real, and she only imagined it. Whatever the case, she had always known in her heart it was a boy, this baby, her son.
She told David who his father was, “he never knew about you,” she said. She told him about his brother and sister, Alex and Megan, and about her husband, Daniel. She told him how much she loved him, how sorry she was that she didn’t give him life. “Forgive me, David, please forgive me!”
As her fingers clicked across the keys, a cleansing, healing, soothing warmth spread throughout her innermost being. She felt released from the heavy burden of guilt and shame that had plagued her like an insidious cancer. When she finished, she clicked on Print. A joy bubbled inside her causing her to laugh with abandonment. She closed her eyes, and pictured Jesus carrying her letter to David and saying with a smile, “Something from your mother.”
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