My Story: The Reason They Are Not Alive

I can’t change my past; if I could I would a thousand times over.  Even if the situations were exactly the same; if I knew then what I know now, I would change my decision, I would not have aborted two children. But I can’t change my past; I can only hope to change your future. I grew up, as the child of evangelical missionaries, in Quito, Ecuador.  My parents were loving, the country was beautiful, and the school we attended was wonderful.  And yet I still managed to find my fair share of trouble, trials, and heartaches. During my time in Ecuador, before I managed to graduate from high school, I had been raped by a stranger, sexually molested by my best friend, and I lost my brother in a motorcycle accident. I tried to conform to the lifestyle I was raised in, I tried to “believe in God”, but after a while it was just too difficult.  Besides, I was already “damaged goods”; my virginity had been stolen from me on more than one occasion, by stranger and by friend.  I was worthless, I felt worthless; I was bad, so I figured I might as well have fun being bad. As I left the missionary environment and was out from under my parent’s roof, I was free to live life the way I wanted.  I tried going to college but soon joined the military.    In the Army I could drink as much alcohol as I wanted, smoke as many cigarettes as I wanted, curse as bad as I could learn the words, and yes, I could...