I talked to my son today….my son who has kept every greeting card he ever received, and hauled them from dorms to apartments, and finally to his home. His young wife smiles over such sentiment.
I chatted warmly with him… my son whose best man at his wedding last summer ended his toast by saying, “…and we all know Chris has a heart of gold.”
Yes, he does, this son of mine who also caused my husband and me many sleepless nights and not a few gray hairs during his teenage years and early adulthood.
My son was magic on the saxophone and a master of math. But we are most proud of him for working so hard to put his life back together after those years of poor judgment and bad choices. He has just begun a new curriculum in engineering, while working about 50 hours/week in a restaurant.
But the most important thing I want to tell you about my son is that his life is a miracle.
You see, my son is adopted, and he was born a few years after Roe vs Wade said that he wasn’t a child, but a “choice” His birth mother was a teenager, in the middle of her first year in college. How easy it would have been for her to make the “choice” —to extinguish that heart of gold, that ear for music, that little baby who filled the hearts and arms and lives of my husband and me with so much love and joy and purpose.
But this young woman chose life. And it wasn’t easy. I know her story. I’ve even met her. She gave up nine months of her plans and dreams so that my son…her son…could live the life God gave him.
And when the time came, and he was born, she almost changed her mind, because giving him up was so hard. But she wanted a family for him; she wanted stability and support that she was unable to give. And so she made the ultimate sacrifice.
I can’t imagine how much God loves this woman who chose life for my son. But I am sure there is a great reward waiting in heaven for her, and all those like her who so unselfishly bore pregnancy and endured childbirth for a child they would entrust to someone else.
When we brought our son home from the adoption agency, I asked if I could write his birth mother a letter to try in some small way to thank her. (How do you thank someone for giving you their child…to be your child?) As I placed my letter in the envelope, my husband handed me a sheet of blue paper. On it, he had written a poem, the first line of which read: Thank you for caring and letting him live. And each stanza contained that same refrain.
O Dear God, I thought! What if she had not let him live? What if she had taken his life…snuffed it out before anyone even knew?
It could have ended that way….my son’s life. It ended that way for over 55 million other unborn babies.
Thank you M, for your courage, your sacrifice, you love, your willingness to put your child first.
Because of you, there is a young man poring over his calculus and physics books, with his new bride cheering him on. And oh, did I mention his stash of greeting cards…no doubt some from you in there.
And his heart of gold? Surely that came from you too, along with his brown eyes.
M, you are my hero!
Thank you for caring and letting him live!