I know a woman whose mother died when she was 15. She was thrown into being the “mom” of the household with brothers and a sister to cook, clean and care for. Her father depended on her, loved her and quite frankly, couldn’t have managed without her.
This went on for several years, she and her siblings grew up. They went off to begin their own lives, but she stayed in the home. She still cooked and cleaned for her father while she got her own job that contributed to her sense of well-being and to the family coffers.
While at work this girl met a man….a boy, really. He made her laugh. They shared tales about their co-workers, their boss, their job. Although they were miles apart in culture, in ethnicity, in religion and in age there was something that attracted them to one another. There was a spark that ignited more than camaraderie; it sparked a new vision of what life should be all about. An inexplicable tie developed between them. A new and wonderful connection that made them whole only when they were with each other. It made no sense. It could never work out. But, when they were in one another’s arms they were surrounded by something they felt no where else. A haven of acceptance, of joy, of peace, and yes, of love.
Of course, the inevitable happened. A baby was coming. The woman was paradoxically both devastated and happy. She knew marriage was not in the picture and she knew the fate of an unmarried woman. Her father’s heart broke only as a parent’s can. Her family chastised, ignored and punished her in the ways of a family.
When her father died just weeks before the birth, her family said she had killed him with her wanton and shameful behavior.
This woman made a choice. She made a choice for life. The inconvenience, the hardship and heartache did not dissuade her from giving her child life. She looked her problems in the eye and set the course of her actions. She chose her baby. In spite of the pitfalls, the pain, and the loneliness, she chose her baby. In spite of rejection, humiliation, and degradation, she chose her baby.
I am that baby. That woman was my mother. I am thankful with every breath I take that my mother chose her baby over her own grief, embarrassment, comfort or convenience.
She chose life. She chose me.
Please take three minutes and listen to this beautiful rendition of “Unplanned” by Matthew West