This testimony is unique because it is the story of an abortion recovery group and how they bonded and ministered to each other in the midst of one of them dying from breast cancer.

D. was diagnosed with colon cancer several years ago.  After treatment, the doctors declared her in remission.  Then, earlier this year, she was diagnosed with breast cancer that had metastasized.  She knew of the link between abortion and breast cancer; she had aborted the first child she and her husband conceived, because they were young, not yet married, and unready.  It haunted her.  Needing reconciliation, she sought help in the Forgiven and Set Free healing program offered by our local pregnancy crisis center; this is how we met, as I was also going through the process.
 
During the healing program, we needed to reschedule two sessions, and postpone one for a week altogether because the aggressive nature of her cancer treatment drained her resources.  But for the most part, she came to our healing group every week on schedule, even when she could barely walk from the fluids building up in her body and the cancer that ate at her life.  With her as an example, I found it impossible to make excuses for myself.  I cannot count how many times I would have tried to escape the hardest parts of our healing work if she had not been there to show me how to persevere.  We were scheduled to have our memorial service for our children in the next to last week of the program; unfortunately, that week she was admitted to the hospital, quite ill.  Her doctor had already told her to make preparations for hospice care; we had little hope, but held her in prayer all that week as we tentatively rescheduled our service for the next Tuesday.  We all felt a strong need to complete our journey as we had begun - together.
 
Glory to the Lord - she was released from the hospital after just a few days.  And even though she needed her husband and mine to help her walk the few steps from her car to the chapel in which we held our service, she was able to come; to hear prayer; and to give prayer on behalf of and life and honor to all of our unborn children. 
 
The next week we were to have our final session, in which we would exchange gifts of remembrance with each other.  As it turned out, D. was too ill to leave her home, but she wanted more than anything to have this last session.  She had already picked out our gifts.  Graciously, her husband asked if we could visit her in her home instead of at the center.  There were three of us; we gathered at her bedside.  D. was coherent - not medicated - past the point of pain, perhaps already beginning her final journey.  One of our group is a nurse; she allowed us to be of help by seeing to some small comforts in D.'s bedding.  We gave her our gifts; I sat by her a few minutes, stroked her hair, and softly told her about the nightlight I was giving her, because she wouldn't be able to see its image until she could look at it through the light - an angel in the form of a woman holding an infant, in a garden, with birds and flowers.  The infant smiled up at the angel and reached to touch her face, as the angel smiled down upon her.  I could not tell if D. heard or understood my words; but as we were rearranging her in her sickbed, to make her more comfortable, she reached for my hand, with a look that I can only describe as confidence, and asked me to help her sit up.  I was honored and humbled by the look of trust she gave me, a look that said she knew I would not refuse that outstretched hand.  I believe the Lord was with her already, on the threshold of eternity.
 
The next day, she died at home with her family around her.  She was forty-one years old and left behind her husband, two young daughters, and a loving mother who has only just begun to battle ovarian cancer herself. 
 
She had named her unborn daughter Joy.  Please pray with me that the first gift our Lord gave her in heaven was to reunite her with the child she loved so much, and fought so hard to regain.