Pray

It was musty. The air filled with particles, revealed by the streams of sunlight coming from the arched windows in the back. Wooden seats, smeared with finish, gave rest and relief to her aching body. She didn’t plan to have this child, who at 3 months, couldn’t really be called a child yet. She hadn’t wanted to keep this child, who at 3 months, had started to appear, making a slight bulge in her otherwise smooth stomach. But did she need to keep the baby? That’s why she was here after all. To ask her savior, Lord Jesus Christ, to ask him for his opinion, even though she was pretty sure that she already knew what his answer would be anyways.

She knelt. Knelt on the hard marble surface, polished and swept seemingly daily. Knelt on the small piece of God’s kingdom where hopefully, she would be able to find relief. Peace from the discomfort and estrangement she felt from her friends. Relief from the unbearable parents who wanted her to abort. Freedom from all that weighed upon her. And so she prayed

Prayed that the answer would come in some form, shaped and delivered by God. Prayed that everything would be alright. Prayed that if she were meant to give birth, that the child would find a happy family. Prayed that if it weren’t meant to be, the child would die a painless death, not knowing the dangers of the world, or the face of his or her mother. Prayed that she could finish school and find some semblance of a normal life. Prayed for comfort. Prayed for Relief.

And so she wept. Wept for all that she had been thinking. Wept for the kind words of the priest and those who had stayed by her side even as she had changed herself. Wept for the torment that these last three months had been for her.

And then she died.