Lead, Kindly Light

Today we hit another milestone.

It came most unexpectedly. I usually call my parents once a day, but since they generally go out every Friday night, it’s typical for me to just leave a message for them while they’re out. But today they were home when I called, since I got back in later than usual. And during today’s conversation, Mom said something that meant a lot to me.

She had gotten together with a family friend of ours today, and while the two of them looked at pictures from my recent graduation, the subject of my middle name came up (probably because it appears in one of the pictures in which I’m holding my diploma). When the friend commented on my relatively unusual middle name, Mom shared with our friend the story behind it — which also happens to be the story of how I came to be. The basic version of the story goes something like this:

At some point when Mom was pregnant with me, she had some routine medical tests done to check on my health status — and the tests revealed two conclusions, that I was a boy, and I had a high probability of having severe physical and/or mental defects. Mom had her reasons for wanting a healthy baby, and she was early enough in the pregnancy to terminate it, so she went to her obstetrician and requested an abortion.

To Mom’s surprise, the obstetrician actually refused to perform the abortion for her. This part of the story is fuzzy to me, but basically the obstetrician disagreed with the results or interpretations of the earlier medical tests (and whoever had conducted them), and told Mom that her baby was fine. The doctor was so convicted on this point, in fact, that she chose not to do to the abortion.

Not to be deterred, Mom made her way to an abortion clinic. She went in, … and she could have gotten the abortion. But she came out, and I was still there. She says now that she kept remembering what the obstetrician said, and that played into her decision to keep me. So Mom went through with the rest of the term of the pregnancy, and a few months later, I was born.

Mom was thrilled to find out that I was a girl, not a boy (she always wanted a little girl) — and even more so, she was relieved to find out that I was both physically and mentally intact. I had (and still have) a congenital heart problem, but so far it hasn’t caused any major problems yet. And Mom was so happy with all of this that she actually gave me my obstetrician’s name, as my middle name.

* * *

Mom shared this story with our family friend, and the two of them went on to discuss my future plans to be a federal prosecutor, a college lecturer, and hopefully/maybe a juvenile court judge. Our friend looked at Mom and said, “It all fits together — the doctor rescued your daughter, and now she is going to become a rescuer.”

Mom repeated the same to me tonight, and said, “[Family friend] said that, and I thought — that’s right. I never thought about it that way. Originally, there was no you, according to me. But you were rescued, and you have your dreams — to rescue others. And I’ve always known you have those dreams, and that God has a plan for you. But I think it started to really click today, knowing that God has a special plan for you.”

That was the milestone. I won’t get into much detail about it now (it’s late and I’m tired, but I at least wanted to get this much down), but it’s been a long road to and through law school, especially with regard to my parents. They have always wanted the best for me, but they have not always understood — let alone encouraged — the visions that I grasp and bank on, because I believe they are heaven-sent. It has been difficult for me to keep walking down a road under the shadow (and sometimes weight) of their disapproval or doubt, but moments like today make me realize that God is paving every step of the way.

Sometime between high school and college, after opposing the idea for years, Mom finally accepted the fact that I was going to pursue a career in law. Then, the year before I started law school, she was convicted by the Holy Spirit to move beyond acceptance, and she vowed to be an active encouragement and support for me in my aspirations, because she understood that I believe that my criminal law work is a calling from God that I must answer. But today — today, she began to believe for herself that God spared her little girl from abortion for a reason, perhaps to rescue others, just as I had been rescued.

I’m thankful beyond what words can express.