Thirty-five years ago, I lost my only child to abortion. Yet, to this day I am amazed at the unsearchable love of our God Who, in His great mercy, healed my heart and freed my soul from guilt and shame. (Romans 8:1)
I am eternally grateful for His forgiveness and grace. Still, I will always regret my choice. It was the wrong choice.I will always regret the abortion, but because of God's great love, I no longer live in guilt in shame. (Rom 8:1) #endabortion #prolife Click To Tweet
Perhaps you heard of the recent law passed in NY (my hometown) expanding abortion “rights.” In the midst of my grief, I am comforted in knowing that this law is serving to ignite a holy outrage among God’s people. This is good! We need to face the truth. Just imagine the outrage of our Father in Heaven who created every precious child in His own image. The very fact that He is still holding back His wrath from the earth is evidence of His immense mercy. He desires that not one of those who belong to Christ would be lost (2 Peter 3:9).
Yet, when I read of the increase -and even the celebration- of abortion, I am so grieved that I simply have no words. But then I remember a time when God did give me words, soul-searching words of grief for the child I lost so many years ago. Today seemed a fitting day to share these words with you.
Below is a psalm-styled chiastic poem I wrote while I was in seminary. It is called “A Mother’s Lament” and serves as the introduction to my Bible study, Worthy of Love: A Journey of Hope and Healing After Abortion. Next week, I will share it’s counterpart, a poem called, “A Mother’s Hope,” where I bring the shadow of my grief into the light of the Cross. There is hope after abortion.
A Mother’s Lament by Shadia Hrichi
I placed her into the hands of wicked men,
behind closed doors, they give birth to death—
for a few coins, her name was stricken;
for an ounce of silver, they blot out her name.
Deceitful women pour out words like honey;
like a serpent, her mouth drips with poison—
both rich and poor drink from her cup,
she shows no favoritism.
Monsters! Daughters are led by the hand as a blind sacrifice,
to a heinous god, they are laid out as an offering;
in the cover of darkness, their children are taken,
before the dawn, their light is remembered no more.
My friends demand laughter,
my mother asks for a smile,
can they not hear?
can they not see?
Within my heart, deathly silence pounds,
behind the teeth is caged a scream,
it is ready to burst like the wails of a woman in labor—
like a mother whose child is stillborn.
“Weeds!” the wicked cry out as the sickle slashes the lilies;
tender violets are trampled and the garden destroyed,
so that no fruit blossoms,
no flower takes root.
I spend my days in masked despair,
in plain sight, I veil empty arms;
shielding my ears from the haunting silence
as vacant cries kick and fret within me.
As frightened deer scatter, my youth quickly fades;
As the morning delivers the moon, my days give birth to years—
until I can no longer discern:
are these my cries, Lord, or yours?
Who will kneel alongside me in the garden,
or climb upon my shoulders and fill my basket?
Who will lead me by the hand when I am gray,
or lay flowers at my grave?
A thousand tithes cannot repay my debt,
ten thousand offerings cannot restore a single breath;
don’t turn your eye from my presence, Oh Lord,
don’t close your ear to my cry.
The godless promise shelter to the abandoned,
they set a snare for those seeking refuge—
the frightened who have no one to take their hand
and lead them to your courts.
Oh Righteous Judge, give the wicked wrath to drink,
may blood blanket the graves of the unrighteous!
May those who say,“There is no God” shudder at the
thunder of your voice,
and tremble at the words of your mouth.
Your decrees are just and your law is perfect.
Cleanse me, Oh Lord, from my sin—
do not blot my name from your book,
do not strike my name with your pen.
You, Oh Lord, are my deliverer;
You, Oh God, are my strength.
With lifted hands, I will praise you to the congregation.
I will speak of your mercy, my God, my Savior.
(Next week, check your inbox for my followup poem, A Mother’s Hope, or subscribe below.)
If you or someone you love has endured the heartache of abortion, Worthy of Love is a 8-lesson story-driven bible study for post abortion healing that has helped countless of women. Visit the Worthy of Love page to download a free sample, find an online group, watch the promo video, or find resources (including Leader’s Guide) to start a group. We all know someone who needs hope.