Nancy Chadwell had a coffee date today with Rita Helgessen. She had rearranged her plans to make room for this appointment, curious and eager to find out what was on Rita’s mind. Michael had returned late last night from a two-day business trip, and Nancy quietly slipped out of their apartment at 8:30, leaving Michael sound asleep.
Getting behind the steering wheel with her protruding stomach was becoming more of a challenge each day, but Nancy still managed to arrive almost ten minutes early at the little bagel shop Rita had chosen. Within three minutes, Rita pulled up, hopping blithely out of the car. She spotted Nancy trying to extricate herself, and quickly walked over to her.
“I can smell the coffee out here!” Rita said, smiling. “You need a hand?”
“Not just yet, because I have to slowly feel my way out of this seat.” She shifted and turned her body until she was free, and then let Rita assist her up and out of the car.
“Did you have this problem with your pregnancies?” she asked Rita, shaking her head and grinning as they walked to the door of the coffee shop.
“The last three I did.” Rita held the door for Nancy.
“The last three?” Nancy repeated. “How many children do you have?”
“Three.”
“Well, what do you mean, then?”
“Let’s get our coffee. I’ve been looking forward to a blueberry bagel with blueberry cream cheese.” She raised her eyebrows and smiled, explaining, “I didn’t have breakfast.”
Nancy laughed good-naturedly. “I’m a little hungry, too, although I’m afraid it’s not obvious. I look like I’ve been overeating for seven months.”
There was only a short line, and Rita promptly placed her order, before addressing Nancy. “Well, you’ve been eating for two, as they say.”
“Yep!” Nancy’s smile was one of complete satisfaction, as she winked at the teenage girl ready to take her order. “I think I’ll have exactly what my friend just ordered.”
The morning was warm, and Rita said she wanted to eat outside. She headed for a table off by itself and seated herself with her back toward the other tables. They small-talked for a while as they ate their bagels, before Rita reopened the subject broached as they first entered the restaurant. “So, yes, Nancy, I have three children. But I’ve been pregnant five times.”
Nancy’s only response was a nonchalant “Yeah?”
“Aren’t you going to ask me about my other pregnancies?”
“Do you want me to ask you?”
“I want you to be extremely interested at least, because I’ve never confided this to anyone else in my life.”
“Well, you certainly have my attention.” A soft, sincere smile played on Nancy’s lips.
“All right. Well, let me start by saying that I’ve watched you from the first day you started working at Transton. I didn’t like you,” she said apologetically, her head tipped to one side. “You were too much Little Miss Sunshine for my taste. And then you turned out to be Little Miss Goody Two Shoes as well.” Rita’s lips curved up on one side as she continued. “And, as you know, I hated that bracelet you wore.”
“My wristband?” Nancy gently interjected.
“Yes. But everyone else in the office really liked you, despite all my carefully disguised efforts to throw you under the bus.”
Nancy smiled. “Go on,” she said, encouragingly, but with a puzzled expression on her face.
“You knew I didn’t like you. But you still liked me.” Rita squeezed her lips to thwart the emotion she felt. “In fact, I knew you would do anything for me. It was like you had a love emanating from you that I knew nothing I could ever do, no matter how bad, could ever quench.” Her eyes were suddenly brimming with tears, and Nancy reached across the table and took Rita’s left hand in both her own, squeezing it gently, as the older woman went on, her voice breaking in humility.
“Thank you for teaching me, a pastor’s wife, first hand, the love of Christ.”
Nancy, obviously touched, smiled, her eyes filled with compassion and understanding, and appreciation of these endorsing words. But before she could respond, Rita raised her right hand, not wanting to be interrupted. She swallowed, looking down while she regained composure, and then looked up at Nancy again and continued.
“Let me tell you about my first pregnancy. I had just turned twenty, towards the end of my sophomore year in college, when I got pregnant. I didn’t want to have an abortion, but I couldn’t imagine having to contend with all the stigma of having a baby with no one to share the… shame. I felt trapped. The father was long gone. He probably got several girls pregnant before he graduated—if he ever did.” Rita’s smile looked more like a grimace.
“I needed to fix things by myself, and abortion seemed the only plausible solution. I didn’t tell my parents about it. I got the money by telling them my girlfriends and I wanted to take a long weekend road trip. They gladly sent me the money.
“So I took it and had the abortion. It was the most painful day of my life, physically and emotionally. There was no one I could talk to, because, of course, I wanted to keep it an absolute secret.
“When the physical trauma was behind me, there was a new, nagging pain—in my soul. That’s when I started using drugs for several months. I still look back and wonder how I never got hooked.”
Nancy’s surprise was obvious as she looked at her friend, but she remained silent.
“Two years later, I met this really terrific young man headed for seminary after graduation. We fell in love, and I came up pregnant again. Well, you can imagine our dilemma, and together we justified an abortion.”
“Did he know about your first abortion?”
“No. I didn’t feel I should tell him. I’m not sure why. Maybe I thought he would take a second look at me, because from the moment he learned I was pregnant, he was so consoling, and I knew he just assumed it was a first experience for both of us—the pregnancy, I mean.”
“But he knows now?” Nancy asked, expecting a positive reply.
“No, he doesn’t. And I think that’s what’s eating away at me—as much as the abortions themselves.”
“Hmm.” Nancy’s face expressed profound empathy. “I’m sure that’s true. God made us to be one as husband and wife, and we’re uncomfortable when we’re out of sync with each other.”
Rita nodded her head.
“So…” Nancy ventured, hesitatingly. “I’m so appreciative that you would confide in me, Rita, but—why are you telling me this?”
“Well, I’m having to fight for my health right now, and I’m doing a lot of soul searching.” She took a deep breath. “I’ve read the Bible more since my diagnosis than in all the rest of my years since I’ve been in the church. That scripture, ‘Confess your sins one to another and pray for one another, that you may be healed,’ keeps playing in my mind. And I always think of you.” She smiled, but with a puzzled frown. “It’s like your face just pops up.”
“Maybe God just wanted you to confess to me that you didn’t like me at first, and no more than that—so you could move on.”
“I don’t think so. You see, this cancer has made me revisit my abortions—both of them. I’ve always been able to suppress those memories in the past, but it’s harder now. Remember when the girls came to our supper meeting that time, and we wrote down the arguments for each side? I was in auto gear, operating from my personal history of values—pulling up my justifying arguments from the past. I realized afterwards that my feelings weren’t so strong anymore in favor of abortion. And I was glad, Nancy.” She leaned forward as if to emphasize her sincerity. “I was glad for that.
“In fact, that next day was the first time I’d ever felt a glimmer of relief from that smothered feeling of denial. I still feel somewhat justified in what I did, but at the same time, I kind of know I’m headed for a melt-down.”
“A melt-down?” Nancy asked.
“Yes. I know as long as I justify my abortions, I’m saying, ‘I sinned, but...’”
“Ah… yes.” Nancy nodded in agreement. “Instead of, ‘I sinned. Period.’”
“Exactly!” Rita said, with passion in her voice.
The two sat in silence for a moment, before Rita went on.
“You know when David said, ‘Against Thee, and Thee only, have I sinned’ in the Psalm?”
“Mmhmm.”
Rita leaned forward to intensify her words. “He wanted to justify his actions, but God sent the prophet to tell him a little story in order to open up the eyes of his conscience. And Nancy,” Rita said, her eyes again welling with tears, “God did that because He loved him. He knew David couldn’t truly fellowship with Him with that secret sin.” Rita nodded her head as she added, “That’s what God is doing with me.” Her emotion crimped her face, and her voice became a whisper. “He’s opening my heart to recognize that I’ve killed two of my children—His children. And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Rita brushed away the tears, shaking her head, and Nancy wiped her own eyes but said nothing.
“I wish I… I want to make up for it somehow,” Rita went on. “I can never give back to my children the life I took from them, but I’d like to do something to thank God for opening my heart. Again, I thought about you—and Carla.” She sighed, and a nervous laugh escaped as her voice broke. “Maybe I’ll start wearing a wristband.”
Nancy’s face was compassion as she handed Rita a tissue, but she remained silent.
Finally Rita spoke again. “I thought you might have some suggestions, Nancy.”
Nancy raised her eyebrows and rested her arms on her stomach. After a moment, she spoke.
“Two years ago, my mother told me she had had an abortion.” Nancy paused. “I had always thought I was an only child, and when she told me, we just wept—together. We didn’t hold back or try to stifle our crying. I think we both figured my brother’s or sister’s death warranted every single tear.” She picked up her napkin and refolded it. “Then my mother told me that she would never have had the abortion had there been even one person outside that building to tell her not to. In fact, she still struggles with bitterness toward God for not having someone be there. Otherwise, she says she’d be out there herself. I know God’s helping her work through that bitterness. But in the meantime, she’s glad I’m out there. And I am, too.
“For me, it’s a memorial for my brother or sister, doing what I can to spare another baby’s life. It’s also doing what I can to warn the parents of the sadness they’ll take home in exchange for the baby they left—a sadness they’ll carry wherever they go for the rest of their lives.”
“I know personally that you can suppress it and deny it,” Rita said, “but it keeps resurfacing. Do you think there’s ever complete healing?”
“Yes… I do. I think my mother is healed from the tragedy of her abortion. I mean… at least she has a peace in the sadness instead of despair. I honestly think it helped a lot for her to talk about it and to grieve openly. Maybe you and Jim will be able to do that.”
“Maybe.” Rita rose and reached out her hand to help Nancy get up from her chair. “I’m glad you and Carla invited me to join your supper club. And I’m glad for the evening with the young mothers. They have a lot more courage than I did, and God will take good care of them and their babies, too, I’m sure.”
“They are spirited little gals, aren’t they?”
“Yes,” Rita smiled, getting up from the table. “So are you, Nancy.”
As they walked out to their cars, Nancy put her arm around Rita’s waist. “Thank you for sharing all these difficult memories with me, Rita. In one of the Psalms—I think it’s 54 or maybe 56—it says that God keeps our tears stored up in a bottle. Nothing in our lives goes to waste, when we commit ourselves to Him.”
“I know that. I’m just wondering how he’s going to work good from my abortions.”
“I know He will, Rita.” Nancy turned to her friend, hugging her tightly despite her own distended stomach.
Tears filled the eyes of the pastor’s wife again. “Yes… Yes,” she nodded. “I believe that too.”
Nancy drove home thanking God. Rita headed for Waverly Church where she was to meet Jim. Another scripture popped into the mind of the pastor’s wife. It was one her husband had preached on a couple Sundays before. It had struck a chord inside her at the time, but she hadn’t thought about it again until this very moment. She couldn’t remember the exact words, but it seemed to confirm the discussion she’d just had with her young coworker. She turned down the volume of the radio and repeated the paraphrased words over and over again all the way to the church. “It’s the goodness of God that brings me to repentance. It’s the goodness of God that brings me to repentance. It’s the goodness of God that brings me to repentance. It’s the goodness of God that brings me to repentance.”
As she walked slowly from her car towards the church office door, she felt a peculiar jubilancy rising in her spirit. She had a new love for God, and a singular hope for her future with Him. She even felt loosed from the grip of fear that had accompanied the cancer. She shook her head, hardly able to believe what was happening in her spirit. “Ah,” she whispered reverently. “This must be that peace that passes understanding that people talk about.” She bit down on her lower lip in an effort to squelch what would surely be a torrent of tears—tears of joy. On her face was a smile of victory that triumphed over the tears. She couldn’t wait to see Jim—just to hug him as an overflow of the amazing love that flooded her heart. Her step quickened and she hurried to the door.