As she packed her suitcase, Augusta recalled that Pastor Huntley had disagreed.
"The thing about the past is that it can't be undone," he had said, "and all you can really do is try to make amends for what you've done wrong when you can -- when you've hurt someone or stolen something, for instance -- and pray for forgiveness when you can't. You've aborted a child. That's serious. Horrific, in fact in my opinion, but in the eyes of the law of the United States of America, and the states of Illinois and North Carolina, it's not murder so you're a free woman and you're going to stay a free woman. It's not as though you've come here and confessed to a crime. It's a cliche I know, and it sounds like something out of a Victorian novel, but the only prison you'll ever see is the prison of your own guilt."
"In the eyes of God, though, abortion is murder. It's the taking of the life of a child. However, murder isn't the unforgivable sin."
"What is, then?" Augusta had asked, she remembered as she carefully selected a week's worth of bras and underwear.
The pastor had sat back with his hands clasped behind his head while his secretary quietly shushed and shooed away yet another church employee come to visit.
"Rejection of God. He offers forgiveness for anyone who sincerely wants it, and you sincerely want it. If you didn't care about what you had done and weren't sorry, that would be unforgivable."
It would likely be cool in Illinois still, at least cooler than here, so she packed sweatshirts and jeans, then added tee shirts and a few pairs of shorts just in case of warm weather.
"But you're sorry about what happened. It's killing you inside. You wish you could go back and undo it all. You can't of course. No one can, but the next best thing is to pray for forgiveness. God is ready and willing to forgive you. Nothing makes Him happier than for one of His children to repent and strive to come closer to Him."
Several pairs of socks. Nothing felt better than a nice, clean, fresh pair of socks, and Augusta usually wore at least two pairs a day.
"God can help you in so many ways, Ms. Jackson. In ways you haven't even thought of. You've said you stayed with Joseph because you loved him once, and he liked you once and the two of you just seemed as though you couldn't get away from each other even if you tried. You've said while you were waiting for him to like you again, maybe even love you, you stayed with him because he made a comfortable living for the both of you and you didn't want to give that up and try to make a life for yourself on your own. And you've said you agreed to abort your pregnancy in hopes Joseph would continue to provide for you, and possibly even see your act as an act of devotion and fall in love. And if he fell in love with you, maybe you would fall in love with him again."
"That was so selfish," Augusta had wept. "I was so selfish. I killed a child because I was selfish. I just wanted to be taken care of, and I gave up everything so he would take care of me just a little longer..."
"It was selfish," the pastor agreed. "But you know what you did wrong, and you can pray for forgiveness for that as well, and with God's help you can find a man who will love you, and who will want to raise a daughter with you."
She might want to go to dinner somewhere nice while she was there, thought Augusta, so she packed a dress. It would wrinkle in the suitcase, but wrinkles were easily taken care of.
"God wants to forgive you because you're truly sorry for what has happened. You're sorry you aborted your child, and you're sorry you agreed to have the abortion because you wanted Joseph to provide for you. God can forgive you for all of that, and help you find a man who will truly love you and who you can truly love. He'll help you find someone you can be happy with, because it's never selfish to love someone who loves you in return. In fact, that's one of the most un-selfish things a person can do. And when you find that man God intends for you, you together can bring a life into the world and nourish it and raise a child who will be a good person and help make the world a little better than it was when he or she came into it. And that's the most selfless thing of all a person can do."
Shoes. Comfortable walking shoes, and at least one nice pair to go with the dress.
"That's the most amazing thing about God," the pastor had said, "He can take the worst situations and turn them completely around, and transform them into the most beautiful things you can imagine. He'll help you find that man who's meant to be your husband, and by then you'll truly appreciate how special love is, and how it's so much more than just being taken care of, and how precious the child born of that love really is."
Toiletries, and a few pieces of jewelry, and tampons and pads.
"Just ask for His forgiveness and God will grant it because you're sincere. You weren't a coward for what you went through. You were just a sinner and we all are. But God loves you."
She carried her suitcase to the apartment door, and slipped on the leather backpack she used as a purse and carried everywhere she went, then went to the kitchen and drank a glass of water.
"Your child -- your daughter -- is in Heaven now and is so happy you can't even imagine it. I'm sure she's forgiven you, and God will forgive you the instant you ask for Him to. All that's left is for you to forgive yourself."
Augusta had been heaving with her sobs, and was too weak to stand. The pastor patted her shoulder comfortingly.
"Can you do that? Can you accept God's love and go on with your life? Can you call upon Him to guide you to the true love He wants you to know here on Earth? Will you let Him guide you now? You've already made a wise choice to come to this place where your grandmother loves you and where you've got the perfect opportunity to start fresh, but can you let God help you start over?"
She put her keys in her pocket, and remembered she said she could. She carried her suitcase into the hall then turned to lock the door behind her.
"Good. Now let's sit here a bit longer and you can say anything you feel you need to. But I promise God will forgive you, because He loves you and so do all of us here. You won't be praying in vain if you ask His forgiveness and for the strength to live a good, strong life."
An expert at packing, Augusta had condensed the equivalent of two weeks' worth of clothing and essentials into a single suitcase. Still, the suitcase weighed as though it contained two weeks of outfits, alternate outfits, shoes, and a miscellany of perfume, jewelry, and protection against her period, should it come in the next week. She struggled with it all the way down from her third floor apartment, out through the shady courtyard, then to her red Ford pickup truck in the tiny tenants' parking lot next to her building. Setting her suitcase in the passenger seat and her backpack in the passenger side floorboard, she tried to remember if she had forgotten anything. She had called in to work to take a week of personal days, saying a friend in Illinois was in the hospital, and her supervisor had agreed, clucking sympathetically but asking she please be sure to return before tourist season started in earnest, which it would in about two more weeks. She had made sure all her appliances were switched off, and had asked a neighbor to take in her mail and newspaper. She hadn't informed her grandmother of her plans and didn't intend to because to do so was to answer questions she didn't want to be asked.
There seemed to be nothing else to take care of, so she started her truck and made her way through downtown traffic to Interstate 240, then to Interstate 40, and she drove until the domes and turrets and slender Art Deco spires of her beautiful home of Asheville had fallen away behind her and were swallowed up by the lush green mountains, as if there had never been a city there at all.
"The thing about the past is that it can't be undone," he had said, "and all you can really do is try to make amends for what you've done wrong when you can -- when you've hurt someone or stolen something, for instance -- and pray for forgiveness when you can't. You've aborted a child. That's serious. Horrific, in fact in my opinion, but in the eyes of the law of the United States of America, and the states of Illinois and North Carolina, it's not murder so you're a free woman and you're going to stay a free woman. It's not as though you've come here and confessed to a crime. It's a cliche I know, and it sounds like something out of a Victorian novel, but the only prison you'll ever see is the prison of your own guilt."
"In the eyes of God, though, abortion is murder. It's the taking of the life of a child. However, murder isn't the unforgivable sin."
"What is, then?" Augusta had asked, she remembered as she carefully selected a week's worth of bras and underwear.
The pastor had sat back with his hands clasped behind his head while his secretary quietly shushed and shooed away yet another church employee come to visit.
"Rejection of God. He offers forgiveness for anyone who sincerely wants it, and you sincerely want it. If you didn't care about what you had done and weren't sorry, that would be unforgivable."
It would likely be cool in Illinois still, at least cooler than here, so she packed sweatshirts and jeans, then added tee shirts and a few pairs of shorts just in case of warm weather.
"But you're sorry about what happened. It's killing you inside. You wish you could go back and undo it all. You can't of course. No one can, but the next best thing is to pray for forgiveness. God is ready and willing to forgive you. Nothing makes Him happier than for one of His children to repent and strive to come closer to Him."
Several pairs of socks. Nothing felt better than a nice, clean, fresh pair of socks, and Augusta usually wore at least two pairs a day.
"God can help you in so many ways, Ms. Jackson. In ways you haven't even thought of. You've said you stayed with Joseph because you loved him once, and he liked you once and the two of you just seemed as though you couldn't get away from each other even if you tried. You've said while you were waiting for him to like you again, maybe even love you, you stayed with him because he made a comfortable living for the both of you and you didn't want to give that up and try to make a life for yourself on your own. And you've said you agreed to abort your pregnancy in hopes Joseph would continue to provide for you, and possibly even see your act as an act of devotion and fall in love. And if he fell in love with you, maybe you would fall in love with him again."
"That was so selfish," Augusta had wept. "I was so selfish. I killed a child because I was selfish. I just wanted to be taken care of, and I gave up everything so he would take care of me just a little longer..."
"It was selfish," the pastor agreed. "But you know what you did wrong, and you can pray for forgiveness for that as well, and with God's help you can find a man who will love you, and who will want to raise a daughter with you."
She might want to go to dinner somewhere nice while she was there, thought Augusta, so she packed a dress. It would wrinkle in the suitcase, but wrinkles were easily taken care of.
"God wants to forgive you because you're truly sorry for what has happened. You're sorry you aborted your child, and you're sorry you agreed to have the abortion because you wanted Joseph to provide for you. God can forgive you for all of that, and help you find a man who will truly love you and who you can truly love. He'll help you find someone you can be happy with, because it's never selfish to love someone who loves you in return. In fact, that's one of the most un-selfish things a person can do. And when you find that man God intends for you, you together can bring a life into the world and nourish it and raise a child who will be a good person and help make the world a little better than it was when he or she came into it. And that's the most selfless thing of all a person can do."
Shoes. Comfortable walking shoes, and at least one nice pair to go with the dress.
"That's the most amazing thing about God," the pastor had said, "He can take the worst situations and turn them completely around, and transform them into the most beautiful things you can imagine. He'll help you find that man who's meant to be your husband, and by then you'll truly appreciate how special love is, and how it's so much more than just being taken care of, and how precious the child born of that love really is."
Toiletries, and a few pieces of jewelry, and tampons and pads.
"Just ask for His forgiveness and God will grant it because you're sincere. You weren't a coward for what you went through. You were just a sinner and we all are. But God loves you."
She carried her suitcase to the apartment door, and slipped on the leather backpack she used as a purse and carried everywhere she went, then went to the kitchen and drank a glass of water.
"Your child -- your daughter -- is in Heaven now and is so happy you can't even imagine it. I'm sure she's forgiven you, and God will forgive you the instant you ask for Him to. All that's left is for you to forgive yourself."
Augusta had been heaving with her sobs, and was too weak to stand. The pastor patted her shoulder comfortingly.
"Can you do that? Can you accept God's love and go on with your life? Can you call upon Him to guide you to the true love He wants you to know here on Earth? Will you let Him guide you now? You've already made a wise choice to come to this place where your grandmother loves you and where you've got the perfect opportunity to start fresh, but can you let God help you start over?"
She put her keys in her pocket, and remembered she said she could. She carried her suitcase into the hall then turned to lock the door behind her.
"Good. Now let's sit here a bit longer and you can say anything you feel you need to. But I promise God will forgive you, because He loves you and so do all of us here. You won't be praying in vain if you ask His forgiveness and for the strength to live a good, strong life."
An expert at packing, Augusta had condensed the equivalent of two weeks' worth of clothing and essentials into a single suitcase. Still, the suitcase weighed as though it contained two weeks of outfits, alternate outfits, shoes, and a miscellany of perfume, jewelry, and protection against her period, should it come in the next week. She struggled with it all the way down from her third floor apartment, out through the shady courtyard, then to her red Ford pickup truck in the tiny tenants' parking lot next to her building. Setting her suitcase in the passenger seat and her backpack in the passenger side floorboard, she tried to remember if she had forgotten anything. She had called in to work to take a week of personal days, saying a friend in Illinois was in the hospital, and her supervisor had agreed, clucking sympathetically but asking she please be sure to return before tourist season started in earnest, which it would in about two more weeks. She had made sure all her appliances were switched off, and had asked a neighbor to take in her mail and newspaper. She hadn't informed her grandmother of her plans and didn't intend to because to do so was to answer questions she didn't want to be asked.
There seemed to be nothing else to take care of, so she started her truck and made her way through downtown traffic to Interstate 240, then to Interstate 40, and she drove until the domes and turrets and slender Art Deco spires of her beautiful home of Asheville had fallen away behind her and were swallowed up by the lush green mountains, as if there had never been a city there at all.