God's Grace

She was so small. She couldn't have been 5 feet tall, even if she stood up straight, and the physical and emotional burdens she carried were written in her features and in her posture. Her father had died months earlier, leaving her and her mother vulnerable in a country that rarely values women and where rape and abuse are rampant. Their home had been broken into many times following her father's death and I assume that it was during one of these break-ins that she was taken.

I cannot imagine.

Grace, the small, vulnerable 14 year-old whose life was turned upside down when she was kidnapped and raped. She was held for two days before she escaped, only to find out later that she carried a constant reminder of her terror and shame. Her mother brought her to the ward when she went into labor and that is where my journey overlapped with hers for a short time. 

She was stoic and silent the entire time I spent with her. She didn't know much of anything about labor and I explained a lot over the following hours. I was relieved to see how much her mother worried for her and how tenderly her mother spoke of her when I went out to the waiting area to give updates on her progress. 

As can be expected of the first labor of an extremely petite girl, it was very difficult. She was not progressing well and not eager to stand or walk or do anything that might help her along. As I watched her writhe and moan, I envisioned her; the naive school girl, studying, running and laughing with her friends. Her life would never look like that again.

After hours of obstructed labor, Grace was finally given a c-section. As they started an IV and charted her progress, two separate women approached and softly spoke to me.

"She should never have been allowed to carry this baby to term."

"NO!", I said. "Only God determines life and death!"

I was grieved by their words, and even more so, worried that their opinions would color how this young mother viewed her child - how she cared for it. I now only had a few moments before they would take her to the OR. The staff had pulled the cart up and were getting the paperwork signed.

I knelt down, my face close to hers, so that she might hear and understand me better through her drug induced fog. I waited until her eyes fluttered open.

"Grace, I know this baby has come because a huge grief in your life. And you will hear people tell you that the baby is no good, that you shouldn't have kept it. But Grace, this baby is a gift from the Lord. It's a precious blessing from God and you must care for it and love it. I will be praying for you!"

She nodded. 

I watched them wheel her away, praying that her baby had survived the difficult labor, that Grace would know deep and healing forgiveness and that an overwhelming flood of love for her child would sweep over her. 

Two weeks later, my friend was walking through the postnatal ward and saw Grace. Grace wept when my friend approached her. I cannot imagine the weariness this mama was feeling. Her baby was sickly and the incision from her c-section wasn't healing well so she had been an inpatient for that entire two weeks. When I was there, three weeks after her c-section, I asked about her. All the staff remembered who she was. Her story was told with shaking heads and clucking tongues. She had been discharged and at that time, her baby had been doing well. 

I hate the sin and evil in this world that precipitates horrors like what this girl survived. 

I. Hate. It. 

Pray for Grace. She will never forget the faces of her captors or what they did to her but my prayer is that she will gaze into the face of her child and know her Redeemer.