by Elizabeth Riley

I was standing by our info table handing out pamphlets, when a Hispanic woman in her forties started to sign our email list.

"I was sent over here by him,” referring to my team member, Sam. "He was telling me you call it a holocaust."  She was visibly upset.

"Yes,” I said, “We say that because one third of our generation has been killed by abortion.  If you're born after 1973, you're a survivor."

At this point, she started to cry.  "Sweetie, you don't know what that statistic means to me. I committed an abortion. I have two daughters  and I killed my third."  She continued, "I know that one day I'm going to see my baby again and I just hope God can forgive me.”

As we talked, I learned the circumstances surrounding her decision to abort.  She had just moved to the United States and had an abusive husband that she was afraid would abuse the baby.  Her abortion was the year I was born, 1994. Her daughter would have been my age.

The more we talked, the more I got the sense that she didn't think God would forgive her.  I also felt like our conversation was coming to an end.  I asked if I could pray with her.  She responded, yes, if I could give her a moment to stop crying.  

I pray aloud that she might remember that our God is just, but also merciful.  That Jesus died for our sins no matter how great or small, that all we need is to ask and we can be forgiven.  I also prayed for all women in a situation similar to Lucy's, that they would lean on Him.  Amen.

Before she walked away, I gave Lucy contact information for an abortion recovery ministry, Rachel's Vineyard, hoping that she can find healing.  Then she asked me how long I would be doing this.  I told her until the end of this semester and that I hope to continue in the future. She took our card, telling me she wants to be able to join us soon, and that she is grateful we were at her college today.