|By: Kristin England; ©2001|
|In a deeply moving article, Kristin England describes her memorial tribute to her aborted son and the steps she had to take before she could make that tribute. This is part fourteen of a series dealing with the after-effects of abortion.|
Last night we had a watch night service at church. We played games and ate finger foods. Then we watched the movie “Left Behind.” The movie depicts the rapture of the church showing all children and some adults gone, leaving their clothes where they had once been. The fact that all the children were gone reminded me of my own son. Gone…leaving me behind.
The same way the mothers in the movie wept for their children so had I wept for my child. I wept for many years, yet all my tears couldn’t bring my son back. As David says in 2 Samuel 12:23: “But now that he is dead, why should I fast? Can I bring him back again? I will go to him, but he will not return to me.” I knew that my son had gone to Heaven and would never return to me. Ecclesiastes 12:7: tells us “the spirit returns to God who gave it.”
Jesus said, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. I tell you the truth, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it” (Mark 10:14-15).
At the end of the Post Abortion Bible Study we named our babies and had a memorial service for them. I had no trouble naming mine. Since I had seen my baby I knew he was a boy. Others in my class prayed asking God to reveal to them the sex of their aborted children. We all prayed about what name to give our children. I had always loved the name Danny so I chose Daniel. I am glad that no wrong is recorded in the Bible about Daniel. I chose James after my father, James Robert. I named my son James Daniel.
We then dedicated our children to the Lord’s care and as thanksgiving to God we were to write a letter to our child, write a poem, sing, dance, paint a picture or any way we chose to show our love. I wanted to play “Danny Boy” on the piano. I practiced and practiced but just didn’t seem to have it to perfection. Nothing I could think of was good enough for my son. Nothing was good enough to show how very much I loved him. Nothing was good enough to show how very sorry I was for killing him. I finally decided to share some of my thoughts about Danny.
Our memorial service was held at my church with our pastor, Gary Jared. Each lady in my group went to the front of the sanctuary and each one had the most beautiful dedication. They all had given such worth to their children. It was now my turn but I wasn’t ready to do this. My few words I had written on 3×5 cards seemed so very lacking. I could not even speak the words now. I choked up and the tears started to flow. I was so overcome that all I could say was a thank you to God that I would one day see my son in Heaven. I knew the truths in my mind that I had learned in the Bible Study but my healing was far from complete.
Others put their plaques on the Memorial Wall but as much as I struggled for the right verse or words, none would come. I didn’t know what last name to give my son. Should I put my maiden name, my stepfather’s name or my husband’s name on the plaque? I felt that my husband, Bobby, should be the one to give my son his name and not me since Danny wasn’t his child. It wasn’t till three years later that Bobby told me to put his name on my son’s memorial plaque. It took me these years to be finally healed. I had to know God’s words in my heart as well as in my mind.
It seems things take a little longer to absorb into my thick skull. Or maybe it’s my thick heart that just couldn’t accept truth for so long. Could it have been that because of the long years of suffering and self-condemnation that I needed more time to heal? I had built such a wall of protection around my heart that had to be torn down block by block. My healing was finally completed with the placing of my own plaque on the wall at the National Memorial For The Unborn.
My son had a name and I had the words to say what I wanted others to hear of truth and healing:
I’ll Be Home…Love, Mom
To know that my son was in Heaven with Jesus and to know that because I had accepted Jesus as my Lord and Savoir I would one day see him again gave me joy. I am “always confident and know that as long as we are at home in the body we are away from the Lord. We live by faith, not by sight. We are confident, I say, we would prefer to be away from the body and at home with the Lord”… and with our children who have gone to Heaven before us (2 Corinthians 5:6-8).
Reading Revelation 21:4 brings a smile to my lips: “He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.” God has already wiped away many of my tears. I now can talk about most things with a thankful heart. Thankful to be forgiven… totally forgiven! I have no secret sins left. No more bonds with Satan. He no longer has any power over me. I’m free to serve my risen Savior!
“O LORD, you are my God; I will exalt you and praise your name, for in perfect faithfulness you have done marvelous things, things planned long ago” (Isaiah 25:1)… and “will swallow up death forever. The Sovereign LORD will wipe away the tears from all faces; he will remove the disgrace of his people from all the earth. The LORD has spoken. In that day they will say, ‘Surely this is our God; we trusted in him, and he saved us. This is the LORD, we trusted in him, let us rejoice and be glad in his salvation.’”(Isaiah 25:8-9) “You will keep in perfect peace him whose mind is steadfast, because he trusts in you. Trust in the LORD forever, for the LORD, the LORD, is the Rock eternal” (Isaiah 26:3-40).
As the song says, “This world is not my home, I’m just a-passin’ through.” Or you might sing, “Home is where the heart is” and my heart is certainly in Heaven where I long to be.