STONING WOUNDED PEOPLE

Who would even listen to my explanation? Does any of it even make any sense. Getting pregnant even when you know you’re still a virgin. I wasn’t raped. I’m not married. I don’t even have a boyfriend. I don’t think anyone can ever explain waking up to a pregnant you.

Who would even believe me? It’s actually normal for anyone to think I’m one of those loose teenagers who get pregnant in school and as usual, is looking for a way out of it. They’ll all say I’m a wolf in sheep’s clothing. The Bible I carry about, the journal I always keep in my little bag.

The way I talk about faith and grace and love. The way I try to carry Christ wherever I go. How can I carry Christ now? How can I preach love as a pregnant unmarried teen? I’m not even betrothed to anyone. How would I face my single Mother? People would term this a case of ‘like mother, like daughter.”

I wouldn’t say life has been great without an earthly Father, I had Jesus. Now I don’t even know who’s for me. I don’t know who I have anymore. Life had been livable until this pregnancy happened. I remember last night, when Mom asked who it was. I was confused, until I realized she meant the baby I was carrying.

“Nobody touched me, Mum. It’s not okay to swear, please believe me.”

“I know you’re scared, Eve.”

“Mum? I’m confused. I don’t know what’s happening to me.”

I didn’t notice the dark eyes, until last night. Mum was suffering. I’m going to continue from wherever her suffering ends.

I shut my eyes. I wanted everything to be a dream. I wanted my life to be non existent. I wanted everything and nothing. My head was banging so hard, I couldn’t think. I just wanted to go. Anywhere.

I felt Mum’s arms around me and the world felt like someplace you could live in, having someone cry with you. For you.

It was time for series of counseling. Every pastor wants to talk to me. Every minister wants to see me. Every psychologist wants me to share things with them. I couldn’t even believe some evangelists wanted me too. With all these people around me, I’ve never felt so alone.

God, oh God, you have forsaken me.

It always felt easy talking to people and making sure they have someone to talk to. It was easy making sure they see a counselor or a mentor. It’s my turn, and I don’t want anyone at all. I don’t want anyone. Why won’t they understand that I want to be alone till I die?

Guilt tore at my heart.

Did you understand your friends when they claimed they wanted to be alone? No, you forced everything out of them. You made them see different psychologists and counsellors. Even when they weren’t ready to share. You forced them to church, no matter how they felt. You never understood. Can you go to church now?

“Never!” It came out in a blunt whisper.

I realized I was speaking to myself and sank down in shame.
Who’s speaking to me? Is that you, Lord? Or the devil? Why am I asking? Have I lost my discerning spirit? No, not now. That can’t be. Whatever is making me feel guilty, make it go away, Lord. Please, Lord. What could I have done? I love my friends, God. I couldn’t leave them alone in their weakest moments. I made them see counselors because I was quite young to do anything about it. It’s true, I didn’t understand. I had to push them over to people who understood.

I’M IN YOU. YOU ARE WISDOM.

Oh no! I’m sorry, King. I’m truly sorry. But, they helped, didn’t they?

I remembered Temi. After seeing a counselor I referred her to, she returned home after her third meeting with her and requested to see me. She said she wanted to talk, I told her I was busy with younger teenagers in church who had relationship issues. I remember she hanged up when I told her to keep talking to her counselor. Temi was found dead the next day, in a pile of blood and pills. I knew she was pregnant, but I didn’t know she’d resort to abortion. Even if she had wanted to do so, why do so herself? I was crying in her room when I saw her yellow journal, I flipped to the last page, where she wrote, “Why judge me? I deserve love too.”
I realized that her pastor called her dirty and her counselor told her abortion was the best way out since she doesn’t have funds and her parents aren’t well to do. The stupid counselor who suggested abortion didn’t give her the funds for a neat one, instead Temi killed herself trying to kill her baby. Two lives at a time. It’s cruel. I should have spoken to her, I would have listened when she called. I’m so sorry, Lord.

I remembered Tonia, who said she’ll never step foot in church again after speaking to her parish pastor.

How could I have taken everything so easy, for granted.
These days, when you meet people who judge, they don’t just throw stones. They’ll leave you broken and wounded. They leave you with a feeling of dirtiness. Dirtiness that can’t be scrubbed clean with hard sponge and water. I know of good counselors and psychologists. Those who preach with God in mind. Those who wouldn’t judge when God hasn’t. Those who would remind them that God has kept their past behind him. Those who would tell us to lay our burdens and let him take our guilt away and fill us with peace. Those who reminds us of God’s promises, God promises that as far as the east is from the west, so far has he removed our transgressions from us.

As long as we crush what is already broken by our own prejudices and phobias, there will be no healing. The enemy robs Us of our healing power, by robbing us of our concern.
Compassion is the mother of miracles.

Sometimes, it takes years to realize that you’re forgiven and God is not going to be irritated when you come before him. His love is not earned but given as a free gift.

Please allow yourself to experience this love and forgiveness, to live in it, to walk with it. Let go of yourself, and cry out to the Lord, and he will hear and answer. He knows all about you. I don’t think it makes any sense hiding from someone who knows your inner thoughts. Who knows every secret. Come to the good, good Father.

FICTION

STONING WOUNDED PEOPLE

Uchenaya Joy C.