Several months following my United Methodist-approved call to “preach the good news,” I sat in a sparse room with a woman who had been assaulted. It was just the two of us. I do not recall her words. I do not recall my responses. I do not recall what I prayed.
The silence I remember.
The knowing that I knew nothing, I remember.
Gazing through the decades, I am fairly confident we never talked about abortions. And yet abortion may have been one of the grim topics she would be forced to consider. How could she heal physically, emotionally, and spiritually? How often would the police question her and make her relive the terror? Among her family and friends, who should she tell or not tell about the horror? The questions—the what ifs, the why mes, the now whats—must have been awful for her.
Does any abortion ever occur in a good circumstance? Continue reading →