Jillian had been so sure it was the right thing to do at the time. She had been young, naïve, and alone; a baby hadn't been a part of her plan. She'd had dreams that were already too big to include raising a child, or even carrying one to term. So she'd had an abortion.
And that had chipped away at her soul for years.
She'd been so proud, so scared, and so determined, and looking back she realized that she hadn't even really thought it through before she'd had it done. For two years afterward, she'd gone about her life, outwardly pretending that nothing had changed while feeling more broken than ever inside.
Then her grandmother had called her up and practically begged her to attend Easter services with her. Realizing that the old woman wasn't going to be dissuaded, Jillian had given in.
As a child, she'd gone to church often enough to have sat under the salvation message numerous times, but she truly heard it for the first time on that Easter. The emotional walls that she'd spent years erecting had crumbled during that service. She'd prayed – really prayed – for the first time, throwing her tattered shreds of a life at Jesus' feet and begging Him to forgive her for all she'd done against Him.
And He had forgiven her that day of everything that hated herself for. That was the day the unseen scars left on her heart from her abortion had finally healed.
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