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Forgiving Myself

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I’ve changed my name because I want to keep my privacy. And I didn’t post a picture of myself because I don’t want anyone to recognize me. You see, many years ago I made a choice that I’ll always regret. It has taken years, but God has forgiven that mistake and made my life into something beautiful. Beautiful like a rose that grows in my garden….

The Wrong Choice

The choice was made in August of 1977. Well, maybe I should say June of 1977. It was the end of my freshman year of college. I had been flirting a lot with an older graduate student who I thought was very cute. We never really officially dated. We did make one date though—we planned on spending one full day–and night–together before I went home for the summer. I signed out of the dorm saying that I was spending the night with my grandparents who lived in town. Then I told my grandparents that I was spending the night with a girlfriend who had come to town for the weekend. I hated lying to them, but I did.

My plans for waiting until I was married to have sex crumbled that night. We didn’t use any protection. Driving back to the dorm the next morning, I had no idea that my life was about to change. Forever.

At the beginning of summer I went alone on vacation to Colorado to visit my cousin. When I got sick while watching a movie with her, she asked if I’d missed my period. Later she took me to a clinic where they told me that I was pregnant. Shortly after I found out, my parents came through Colorado and picked me up on their way to Nebraska to visit my grandparents. Mom and I went shopping downtown by bus one day, and on the way back I got sick again. I realized I needed to tell her I was pregnant. I asked her to go on a walk with me. We walked for a while and then sat down on a bench to talk, and I broke the news. She didn’t say much, except that she thought I was just carsick.

I don’t remember exactly when I told the father of the baby that I was pregnant. He did call me, though, when I was in Nebraska. He informed me that he had spoken with a pro-choice clinic and that they told him there was no way that I could take care of a baby by myself. They told him an abortion was the only way. He made it very clear that he definitely did not want to get married. In fact, he informed me that he was headed oversees for a year to teach school–but he would pay for an abortion.

I did not want an abortion. I seriously thought about just taking the money he sent and heading to Texas to get lost in Dallas or San Antonio. I had vowed I would never have an abortion. I believed it was taking a life.

One day, about half way through our stay in Nebraska, my mom came to me and said that the next day she, my cousin, my aunts and I were going to Omaha to shop. Well it turned out that everyone else was going shopping. Mom was taking me to get an abortion. I wasn’t given the choice. Sure, I was 20 years old then, but I was raised to never question my parents. If they told me to do something, I did it.

And so my baby died. 

Mom was terrified of what my dad might do if he found out I’d been pregnant. In order to keep the secret from him while I recuperated, she told Dad that I was still not feeling well from a strep throat infection I had earlier that summer.

Grieving the Choice

Afterward I cried a lot. I was angry with my mom, and my cousin. I was angry for a long, long time. I often woke in the night crying. I would cry when I saw Pro-Life and Anti-Abortion billboards and ads. I hated myself for not having the strength to stand up to Mom and to do what I knew was right and not take my baby’s life. The guilt and shame was so overwhelming that I had thoughts of suicide. Since I’d already given up on the commitment to wait until marriage to have sex, I had sexual relationships with several boyfriends after that. I just didn’t care anymore.

I started drinking and smoking pot—anything to try to numb the pain I was feeling. I began enjoying the alcohol and pot way too much. Then one night I drank too much and smoked too much. I would wake up and there were people in my apartment…then pass out and wake up and no one was there…then they were there again. The next morning I needed a drink. It was then that I realized I would be an addict if I continued drinking and smoking, so I stopped. But I traded that addiction for a food addiction.

I finally married, making sure my future husband knew what had happened. But the guilt was still there. I didn’t feel worthy of being loved. “How can someone love me, when I took my baby’s life?” I thought to myself. I felt that God hated me. I hated me. I didn’t want anyone to know my secret or judge me for what had happened.

Another Choice: Forgiveness

About 10 years later, when I was married with two wonderful children I had given birth to, I went to a Christian Woman’s Retreat sponsored by our church. I had gone to college with the speaker and she gave wonderful talks that touched my heart. On Saturday night, I asked to speak with her privately, and told her my story. I had forgiven my mom and cousin, but the speaker helped me realize that I had not forgiven myself. This was a totally new concept to me. I didn’t know I needed to, or even could, forgive myself. And I finally did believe that God could forgive me because He knows my heart.

The speaker told me something else that has helped me so much. She believes that when I get to Heaven, my angel or Jesus will bring that baby and place him or her in my arms. And I will be given a second chance to raise my baby in a perfect world where there is no sin! I hang on to that. It has given me so much peace.

I thank God for His love and forgiveness. My heart still twinges every March on my baby’s due date. I think about how old he or she would be. And all these years later, there are still days when the devil brings back the feelings of worthlessness and inadequacy. On those days I struggle with ‘How can God love me?”  I know He has forgiven me, but I just have trouble accepting it some days. But when I do remember that God does love me and has forgiven me, I ask myself, “What makes me better than God, to not forgive myself?”

The phrase, “God is in control” has become my mantra. And when I can’t sleep, I sing the song “Amazing Grace” in my head. I especially like the new chorus that was added to Chris Tomlin’s version of the song:

“My chains are gone
I’ve been set free
My God, my Savior has ransomed me
And like a flood His mercy reigns
Unending love, Amazing grace”
I have experienced His grace. And yes, it is amazing!

The author’s name has been changed, and the author’s photo is a stock photo from Unsplash.

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Article excerpt posted on en.intercer.net from Answers for Me.

Sing a New Song

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If we wait until all of our problems are gone before we sing praises to God, we’ll never sing! We are constantly confronted with new challenges and heartaches. Yet each day provides us with opportunities to embrace joy, regardless of what we’re dealing with.

“He has given me a new song to sing, a hymn of praise to our God. Many will see what he has done and be amazed. They will put their trust in the Lord” (Psalm 40:3, NLT).

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Article excerpt posted on en.intercer.net from Answers for Me.

Sharing Joy

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He was beaming, and as I looked in the rear-view mirror I could see that he was enjoying himself…immensely. Our family recently purchased a “new to us” vehicle. After years of driving around in a variety of mini-vans, we were looking for something a little more “snappy,” preferably with four wheel drive because of our predictably harsh winters that often occur in our state.

My 16 year old son was very excited about our new acquisition. He passed his driving test with flying colors 6 months ago, and he is becoming a very careful and reliable driver. I could almost hear the thoughts that were swirling around in his head about the “coolness” of the new family SUV. I was excited about it too, but it was obvious that my boy was even more interested in moving into a sportier ride.

After making the purchase, getting the insurance lined up, and registering the vehicle, he and I made our way to the seller’s house where we would mount the license plates on our new Toyota and drive it away. En route to our destination he jokingly asked, “Well dad, do you want me to drive the new car home, or are you going to?” The look on his face told me that he already knew the answer, and had resigned himself to following me back in the older vehicle.

I had already thought about this particular trip that we were now taking, and my answer visibly shocked him. “I want you to drive the new car home,” I said with a smile. “Are you serious?” he excitedly asked. I smiled again and replied, “Yeah, I’m serious. I really want you to enjoy the experience of driving it home.” Because of my love for him, it wasn’t a sacrifice to throw him the keys.

I personally wanted to experience pulling into the driveway of our house, but the thought of my son’s enjoyment as he proudly commandeered our new “wheels” caused my desire to pale by comparison. I drove the older car and enjoyed every minute of watching him follow in my rear-view mirror. He was visibly smitten by the newness of it all, and when we finally arrived at home I was thrilled to hear him say, “Wow, that was awesome!”

“…it is more blessed to give than to receive.” (Acts 20:35, KJV).

I was reminded of this truism once again, that when we truly love people, giving of ourselves isn’t drudgery; it’s a natural extension of our relationship with them.

Michael Temple writes from North Dakota.

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Article excerpt posted on en.intercer.net from Answers for Me.

Beware the Vegan Nazis

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During a retreat time together, a group of my women friends started discussing nutrition. We had been dividing meal preparation for a few days and were aware of some of our group members’ food choices. One person was almost a vegetarian, one avoided sugar, one was a fan of a protein-rich diet, and I was somewhere in the “dabble in almond-meal recipes but still require dark chocolate and wild salmon” zone. Several people wandered into the sanctity of the “only calories count” discussion.

As the protein/paleo member recounted her research on saturated fat, she talked about problems in her progressive community. During the spring Earth Day activities, a nearby health fair became dominated by vegan advocates. The vegans wouldn’t allow representatives from any group that ate or used animal products. My grass-fed beef friend was disturbed that such people wielded so much power and still refused to listen to science data and hard facts. These were people who often considered tolerance in other areas of life. Will they publicly shun or ban commerce with anyone wearing leather, eating at steak restaurants or keeping chickens? Will they go so far as to soon demand that all domestic animals and pets be returned to the wild?

We all shared concerns about the anxiety and fear that seems to provide the basis for much of post-modern nutrition militia. I am aware that food is one area of personal control. Some people restrict food in an effort to exert the only control they seem to possess. Some people eat to fill emotional emptiness, boredom or soothe loss. People can channel their personal anxiety into vegetarianism or caveman diets with equal unbalance. When aspects of the internal or external world seems doomed to failure or threat, food can become a comforting addiction or a sustainable distraction. Perhaps even the symptom of a loss of faith.

It’s a natural desire to share a food plan or diet that has resulted in exhilarating weight loss or improved health. Others may welcome our knowledge and experience as enriching and healing. Or they may find their own answers for their bodies and families. We often want to find more of “our people,” that enjoy a similar worldview. However, when our choices result in a critical self-righteous attitude presented with great fervor–we lose friends and credibility. The underlying message seems to be that dietary noncompliance means you are “less than” or ignorant. Most of us over the age of 50 have lived long enough to remember the debunking of many diets, products, and medications during our lifetimes. Something may help you function at age 25 but not at age 60.

When nutrition and food is combined with religion or spirituality, the outcome for relationships seem to extend into eternity. So we get concerned or preachy. Those of us who believe that our bodies are a gift and not a mistake, get serious about stewardship. We also appreciate that the body and spirit are a holistic unit. Yet a good helping of humility seems wise in a time of burgeoning science regarding individual metabolism, genetics and culture. The Creator has blessed us with a great capacity for uniqueness and ways to respond to him.

Being “right” may be unsustainable–ultimately leading to a table for one.

Karen Spruill writes from Orlando, Florida.

Questions for personal journaling or group discussion:

1. Find the video of “Babette’s Feast” (1987), and watch with a friend or group for discussion.

2. Read Deuteronomy 14:1-21. What do you see as the principles of good health behind God’s nutrition instructions to the Israelites? How might culture have impacted God’s words to them?

Written by Karen Spruill

The post Beware the Vegan Nazis appeared first on Answers for Me.

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Article excerpt posted on en.intercer.net from Answers for Me.

Expensive Gardens

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I believe that gardening was inserted into human DNA from the beginning.

It all started long ago in a beautiful garden that God created (Genesis1-3). The place was so amazing that God made people to enjoy being with him in the garden. Unfortunately, when the people stopped trusting God, the result was thorns and thistles and hard work to grow food. God wanted to restore his people to a land flowing with great abundance (Exodus 3:8), but they kept messing up and giving their allegiance to worthless gods. When Jesus appeared to show them God’s love in human skin, he often went into his favorite garden to connect with God in Heaven (Luke 21:37; 22:39). When those who love God are again dwelling with God in a new heaven and earth, a healing tree with 12 crops of fruit will stand in the midst of that city (Revevation 21:2). Sounds like we will be in the garden again.

Fast forward or reverse to my parents who always grew a garden, and I was involved. Each spring Dad plowed up a space of land, and we planted, then hoed and weeded, picked produce and froze or canned the extras. That was busy work for six months out of the year–before the raking leaves and shoveling snow set in. Yet I knew where most of our food originated, and I knew what it should taste like and how vulnerable we all were to weather and pests.

This year I have returned to gardening and I can’t believe how much money I am spending for the privilege. I ordered some raised corrugated metal planting beds. Then I needed help to create the new garden. So I hired someone to take out hedges to make more room in the backyard. Then I invited my brother, the experienced gardener, to fly down to put the metal beds together and create an irrigation system. We bought many bags of dirt to fill and packed my car full on several trips from the store. Later I purchased some plants, flowers, and seeds. I sprinkled soap chips around the beds to discourage rodents (Irish Spring was suggested). I have been watering in between our lawn irrigation days, thinning some of the veggies, and plucking nasty looking leaves.

Last week I bought some vegetable fertilizer since the peas, radishes and carrots look wimpy and pale. I need to continue spraying copper on the squash, pepper and tomatoes for mildew or some other crud. And I have some Seven or Tea Tree oil to sprinkle or spray on veggies if it appears that bugs are chewing. Why am I banging my head against the botanical wall?

I have grandchildren and I want them to know the gardening heritage along with recognizing food fresh from the earth. The oldest boy helped me pick strawberries and blueberries last year, and he enjoys plucking low fruit from the lemon tree. He got to taste a few grape tomatoes from one plant last spring and he wanted more.

So I thought I would expand what the backyard can offer. Important life lessons might even appear. Actually weather, bugs, diseases and squirrels are on my mind. It certainly is easier to go to the grocery store or farmer’s market. Yet watching plants peek up from the dirt, unfurl, blossom and turn into food is the magic I desire. And nothing tastes as good. Which leads me to think of Jesus–Creator and the original gardener. He is also the sustaining vine and we are the branches. “No branch can bear fruit by itself; it must remain in the vine,” (John 15:4, NIV).

Gardeners know the care and concern that goes into helping plants grow or mature. It’s a time-consuming, expensive and vulnerable occupation. Waiting for results and savoring the outcome are divine rewards.

Questions for personal journaling or group discussion:

1. What seed has God planted in you that is slowly maturing?

2. To what vine are you currently attached? Who or what is nurturing you?

Written by Karen Spruill

The post Expensive Gardens appeared first on Answers for Me.

Read more at the source: Expensive Gardens

Article excerpt posted on en.intercer.net from Answers for Me.

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