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I was raised catholic, but soon at high school I began thinking differently, first politically left and later esoteric. This lasted until my late twenties, when I figured out that I could not really help people this way. I gave yoga lessons, but my personal circumstances became more complicated. I had gone through broken difficult relationships. Also, when I worked at a psychiatric institution for a year, I was also forced to confront my own problems, and I went deeper into my emotions and tried to work out my difficult childhood.
I had my abortions when I was 20 and when I was 27. At that time I did not have a problem with them. I was pleasing my mother, the political correctness of my environment, and also the esoteric thinking of reincarnation. There were people who told me that I just sent the children back to the universe where they went seeking for other parents. How mislead I was. But I was also not cured emotionally, my feelings were not adequate. I could be very emotional but had no real contact with my heart. Of course it was wounded.
When I went further with the working out of my internal emotions, it was very difficult, and I started praying. Jesus came in my life, and I went to the Catholic Church. I had a real conversion. I started to pray regularly, went to Holy Mass, and started to work in a parish.
I confessed in the beginning of my conversion a lot of things, also my abortions, but at that moment it had no deep impact. I think the Lord wanted to protect me from the deep pain of regret until some years later. I was on a pilgrimage in Handel, in the Netherlands. A woman prayed for the unborn, and then I thought, “I have two children and where are they? I love them.” In the afternoon the Lord showed them to me in a miraculous way, in a vision. They were as old as they would be at that moment, and they came to me in joy and forgiveness. They stayed around me the whole afternoon. How good is our Lord!
I went to Handel at the same day of the year for nine years, and every time I felt them strongly around me, and we prayed together.
But at home I was paralyzed for three days. I could not come out of the bed unless it was to go to Mass. Then, after these three days, I felt that God had forgiven me, that they were in heaven, and that I would see them again.
Of course a long mourning process followed, and I grieved a lot. I had some help from a psychologist, who let me talk. And, of course, prayer. I am now 55, and the wound remains, but I can now live with it.
I feel I have to share this story, and I would like to help other people with this issue. Now I am working as a catechist in the Catholic Church. If the Lord wants, He will lead me on this path to help others.
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