Category: Redemption

I have a doll, her name is Jeneft… don’t ask…. I have no idea where I thought that name up from… I’m not even sure how to spell it!

Jeneft has been part of my life for as long as I can remember. When I was a little girl, she was the one I would cry myself to sleep with after a bad day, she was the first thing I packed in my doll’s pram the time I was going to run away from home… and she was my first life lesson in things that can’t be undone.

As a young girl, I aspired to be a hairdresser. Jeneft was my first ‘client’. Yes, I cut off all her hair. I tried to stick it back with sticky tape before woefully bringing her to my mum so she could fix it… because Mums fix everything, right? Wrong. Not even my mum could make Jenefts hair come back… it was gone… and she now had a very unattractive hair do.

And, just to rub salt into the wound, poor Jenefts feet were also unceremoniously chewed off by my Fox Terrier puppy.

Time went on and I lost track of Jeneft.  Although I never forgot her, for a while I did not know where she had ended up. It turned out my mum had kept her and knitted her a lovely bonnet and sewed some new feet and shoes to cover up her injuries. I still remember finding her in a box one day and the giggle it brought James as I loudly exclaimed her name… Jeneft!! He said in that moment I reminded him of an excited little girl.

We all have a ‘Jeneft moment’ in our lives… sometimes more than one. A time when we do something and as soon as it is done, we realise our mistake and try desperately to undo it. But unfortunately, some things just cannot be undone. Sometimes the consequences of our actions will stay with us forever… and we are left with scars, visible like my Jenefts, or invisible that only we know about.

And often our ‘Jeneft moments’ come at the hands of someone else. An action done not by us, but to us, that cannot be undone.

I have had many ‘Jeneft moments’ in my life but the defining one came in 1984. Regular readers of my blog will know the story but for the benefit of those who don’t… here it is, long story, short…. I fell pregnant to my boyfriend at the age of sixteen. To say his parents were displeased is the understatement of the century. They forced me in no uncertain terms to get rid of the problem that I had created. This ‘problem’ was my unborn and still developing baby, their grandchild. Call me naive but back then I had no idea about developmental stages in the womb. As with cutting Jeneft’s hair, I didn’t fully consider the consequences of having an abortion… I had no idea what an impact my actions would have. I honestly thought and was deceived into believing that as long as you aborted before the twelve-week point, no harm was done because ‘it’ hadn’t started forming yet. ‘It’ was still only just a clump of tissue. I think back on that now and cringe… how could I have been so ignorant? The tragedy in this is that I am more than likely not alone… and the bigger tragedy is that there are people in the abortion industry who still promote this theory.

Fast forward thirty-six years and rarely a day goes by for me without being reminded of that time. A social media post calling women who have abortions murderers, an article demonising those same women for making an impossible ‘choice’ or a modern day pharisee on their self-righteous high horse is usually enough for the feelings of anger to well up, even though I know I am fully forgiven, fully loved and fully whole in Jesus regardless of my past.

As with Jeneft, no one could put me back together after that experience. It was as if nobody wanted to talk about it as each person in the drama tried to figure out how to play their part, by either acknowledging it and dealing with it, or burying their heads in the sand and hoping it goes away, which has been my ex-boyfriend’s approach up until now. But the thing is, something like this can never go away – no matter how deep you try to bury it, it will inevitably find its way to the surface time and again until you deal with it. And I literally came face to face with that exact thing earlier this year. If you haven’t read about that encounter, you can read it here Little Girl Lost – Redeemed

What I learned from that encounter is that it is not my responsibility to put other people back together, nor is it theirs to put me back together. The past can only stay buried for so long until it comes back to bite you. And if you are not ready, it will not be a pleasant experience.

I found out recently through a mutual friend that my ex-boyfriend still holds his mother’s opinion that having an abortion was “the right thing to do”. I actually feel incredibly sorry for both of them that they hold that belief. Trying to deny that something happened is not going to change the fact that it did. And I have found that God has a way of undoing everything that we believe is secure in our thinking. Eventually He will unravel us until we have no choice but to confront our past. And that, my friend, is truly the “right thing to do” because then and only then can we find the freedom and healing that only He can bring.

As a grown woman, I sometimes wonder what would have happened if I could super-impose my older, wiser head onto the shoulders of the young girl and teenager I once was. Of course, that cannot happen, and if it did, I would not be writing this blog! But every now and then I just want to put my arms around her and reassure her that it is going to be alright. I want to tell her that she is loved and valued for who she is, not who she thinks others expect her to be. I want to tell her she turns out ok, despite everything she is going through.

Recently I faced a situation where a significant piece of my past literally turned up right in front of me. Through a bizarre connection, my ex-boyfriend the father of my aborted baby, and his mother the woman who insisted it happen, were both in the city where I live for an event that I was going to be at. Because of the bizarre connection, I was given warning they would be there but that did little to dispel my apprehension about seeing them after all these years.

In the week leading up to this event I went through the whole gamut of emotions. From feeling brave to feeling terrified. Feeling angry to feeling sad. Feeling defensive to feeling gracious. But my overwhelming feeling was protective…. Protective of my sixteen-year-old self. I just wanted to wrap her in my arms and say, “it’s ok girlfriend, we’ve got this”. The memories and feelings this pending confrontation evoked had me in a spin. My grown woman was ready, but my inner teenage girl was not even close to being ready to face the people who had caused her so much pain.

The day came and I prepared myself as best I could. My outfit, hair and attitude were all carefully put together to ensure I felt as confident as was possible under the circumstance I was in. I looked good, and I felt good. But inside I was as nervous as anything. It’s ok girlfriend, we’ve got this… it was the unmistakeable voice of the Holy Spirit. He was reassuring me that I was not alone, and I immediately felt at peace.

The event went off without incident and afterwards I got the feeling my ex-boyfriend wanted to speak to me. He was hovering, and it was weird. We have had no contact for thirty-six years. Obviously, he lost his nerve because he never said a word to me but a week later, he sent a text to a mutual friend asking them to apologise to me. For what?? That you forced me to kill our baby, or because you didn’t have the guts to speak to me? His mother on the other hand had once again made herself abundantly clear. It took every ounce of courage I had to look her squarely in the eye, only to have her turn on her heel and walk away without uttering a word. She didn’t have to. I knew where we stood.

But you know what? I faced my giants that day, and they were nowhere near as big as I thought they were. My little girl lost found herself that day and discovered she is brave, she is beautiful, and she is loved despite any lies the enemy tries to throw at her. This was a monumental moment in my life, and I came away from it feeling at least twenty kilograms lighter, such was the weight that had been lifted.

I have forgiven my ex-boyfriend and his mother. More than that, I feel compassion for them because they clearly have not acknowledged or dealt with the part they played in this chapter of my life, and in the ending of my baby’s life before it even began. That is still a process they must go through. I have forgiven myself and I know I am forgiven by God, and Jesus who is watching over my child until we meet in Heaven. Yes, I believe my baby went to Heaven and I will get to meet him one day.

I still cannot believe the circumstances that enabled this set of events to happen. If I told you the whole story you would not believe me, it is that incredible. Although, I will tell the whole story one day, but the final chapter is still to be written so it will have to wait.

One of the songs we sang in church that weekend was ‘Raise a Hallelujah’ by Bethel Music

“I raise a hallelujah, In the presence of my enemies; I raise a hallelujah, Louder than the unbelief. I raise a hallelujah, My weapon is a melody; I raise a hallelujah, Heaven comes to fight for me. I’m gonna sing in the middle of the storm. Louder and louder, you’re gonna hear my praises roar. Up from the ashes hope will arise; Death is defeated, the King is alive. I raise a hallelujah, With everything inside of me; I raise a hallelujah, I will watch the darkness flee. I raise a hallelujah, In the middle of the mystery; I raise a hallelujah, Fear, you lost your hold on me”

Thank you Jesus. I could not have said it better myself.