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  • Julie Woodley, MA

God's Extravagant Love and Mercy


She said good-bye.

I was never born.

Ten thousand days ago,

ten thousand days later.

My Mommy wanted to keep me. She was excited to see the bump of her tummy grow as I grew.


Daddy said I couldn’t be born—too much trouble. He had goals, dreams. He was studying to be a lawyer—I didn’t fit.

We get in the car. Daddy is quiet.

All he says is, “If you want to stay in this relationship, you must get rid of this problem.”

Mommy rides the ninety miles to Minneapolis crying. She can’t stop.

She is queasy from my growing—we stop, and she throws up.

“Maybe he will take me home, let me keep the baby,” she hopes, she prays, “Please turn around!”


The air is turning spring; it smells good, refreshing.

Mommy notices the flowers budding—a sign of hope, new life???

Maybe, maybe, someone will help, she pleads inside.

Mommy has no family—too many years of horror with her father. She ran away at 18—never to turn back.


Now—nowhere to turn, help her, be there with a new baby.

She stares at her new pink maternity top; it’s pretty.

She longs to grow a new baby and fill it up.


The car ride is quiet, eyes cast down as she cries and then she gives up and is quiet.

She trembles. She remembers her last abortion—only three years ago.

She tries to dismiss the thoughts, but they hit her hard today. She remembers the pain involved, the sucking noises, the smells, the regrets after.

They park; she is screaming inside (so am I!).

He pulls her in, reminding her of a better day tomorrow.

He pays the $250 cash. They give her a number.

A room full of quiet women—afraid.

The day is long, yet too quick for me as I say good-bye, as I leave into the arms of Jesus.


I plead with her—don’t cry, I’m with Jesus, full of joy and loving my Mommy.

Please Mommy dearest, don’t give up the fight—keep fighting for babies like me.

There are millions up here; yes, my sister too.

We know you miss us more than you can ever express—we long for you too, but we will be together soon.


Twenty-five years ago, Mommy is still sad, thinking of what I would have been, what I would have looked like.

She longs to hold me, to love life with me!

My name is Elizabeth.

Ten thousand days later, ten thousand days ago.


After an abortion, we lose our self, we lose our dignity, we lose our child, we lose our love for ourselves, sometimes we lose our faith, and sometimes we lose the man who said he would stay if we aborted our baby. The bottom often falls out of our life, and we don’t know how to put it back.


But God knows, God understands, God cares, and God cries with us—yes, for our babies but also for us. He holds our grief and our tears, and He longs to hold us through the pain so we can dance with Him again.


When we take the bold step of receiving the forgiveness of Christ, we also receive the gift of seeing our true identity in Him.

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