Not to Condemn

“It would mean a lot to me if you came.” 

 Lisa’s fingers traced the creases of the paper, once folded now flattened against the cold table. She sat with her legs crossed and tucked under her chair, too shocked to fidget as she digested her daughter’s invitation.

“I have something I need to tell you,” Kayleigh had said, having sat Lisa down at their kitchen table in the unnerving way only a teenager could manage to do. 

Lisa’s stomach hit the floor. “Are you pregnant?”

“What? No!”

 “Are you on drugs? Did you get kicked out of school again? Kay, I can’t keep moving us around.” 

“I’m not expelled. I’m fine.”

Surveying her daughter from across the table, Lisa squinted. “Are you gay?” She barreled forward before Kayleigh could respond, “Honey, it’s okay if you’re gay. I love you and support you and-”

“Mom stop!” Kayleigh wrung her hands together on the tabletop from her seat on the other side of the table. She took a deep breath. “I’m a Christian.”

“What?”

 Rustling cut the silence as Kayleigh withdrew a folded piece of paper – the one Lisa now clung to – and slid it across the table. “Think about it.” Her daughter said, and Lisa heard the scrape of wood against tiles as Kayleigh stood and left the room. 

Sweat marks formed on the paper wherever Lisa touched it. She didn’t look up until the door to Kayleigh’s room had shut. A quiet click down the hall.

Leaning her elbows on the table, Lisa put her head in her hands and reminded herself to breathe, heart raced wildly. 

Shit. 

The building was smaller than she expected. 

Six days later Lisa entered a Church for the first time in her life, her daughter leading the way. The foyer smelled of coffee and perfume, thrumming with chatter. She looked at the hands of the greeters that shook hers, and into the smiles directed her way, half expecting to see claws and fangs. But not, only overgrown cuticles and mildly crooked teeth met her. 

Kayleigh eagerly led her from person to person, making introductions with an ease uncharacteristic of a sixteen-year-old. Everyone greeted Lisa like a long-lost friend. Somehow that made her feel worse. No matter how hard she tried, Lisa forget each new name the moment a new conversation began. Lisa’s eyes flashed rapidly between people, trying to keep track of the buzzing swarm all at once. When Kayleigh led her into the sanctuary, Lisa let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. 

Rows upon rows of seats packed tightly into the rectangular room, like ribs lining a torso, all facing the center stage – a modest platform – built into the far side. Early-morning light filtered through stained glass windows scattered across every wall. They sat an equal distance from the stage as from the exit. 

In the middle of the pack. 

Lisa picked at the fabric of her chair. At least they weren’t wooden. She remembered a co-worker who told her stories of his time at church. People there made bad children kneel on wooden pews to pray. Her co-worker had been one of those children. Glancing at Kayleigh, Lisa wondered faintly if her daughter knew how to pray. 

After everyone sang, a man in corduroy pants and a blue shirt stood onstage and began to speak. 

“Nicodemus came to Jesus under the cover of night.”

The contrast was stark. A throng of surprisingly harmonious voices reduced to a singular, solitary voice. It felt wrong. Too much silence for so many people. Lisa resisted the urge to squirm. She felt like a sardine, anxious to twist around and stare at all the other little fish packed into their can. 

Her darting eyes stopped on one sardine in particular.

Two rows ahead. A little to the left. 

A woman in a floral dress. 

Lisa’s throat squeezed shut. Her sweating hands gripped the bottom of her seat with equal intensity. A swell of panic pushed against her spasming throat. 

The Pastor’s voice fell away, a low buzz reduced to almost nothing. The room was quiet. Too quiet. So quiet she feared anyone who listening hard enough could hear the beating in her chest. 

She closed her eyes. 

The swell of her belly pressed uncomfortably against the grocery shelf as Lisa strained upwards. She pawed uselessly at a jar of pickles, watching it spin around and clack against the condiments, just out of reach. Her back protested and she stopped reaching. 

“Here, let me help,” a voice behind her said. A tall woman came up beside Lisa and retrieved the jar, giving it to her with an apologetic smile. “It’s silly they don’t make these shelves more accessible, especially for us ladies.”

“Thanks,” Lisa said, eyeing with a touch of envy the ornate pattern of vibrant flowers tracing their way along the woman’s dress. 

“I’m more of an olives lady myself, but when I was pregnant I couldn’t stand them.” She nodded to Lisa’s stomach. “How far along are you?”

“Thirty weeks.”

“Goodness! What are you having?”

“A girl.” Lisa smiled. “Her name is Kayleigh.”

The woman beamed. “Oh, that’s just wonderful! You and your husband must be so excited.” She selected a jar of olives several rows down, her smile turning wistful. “Rick and I have two. We’re trying for a third.”

“Actually, I’m not married,” Lisa said. She put a hand on her stomach and felt along the curve, watching for movement. “I can’t wait to meet her.” When she looked back up, she was met by a face filled with horror. 

“That’s a sin.”

“Excuse me?”

“God hates sinners.” The woman’s words were tight, clipped sharply. “Your baby’s going to hell.” 

Lisa blinked. A glint of metal caught her eye. Resting against the woman’s chest, threaded through a silver chain, was a small cross.

A Christian. 

Opening her mouth, Lisa found no words. Not even breath. The proclaimed damnation hung heavy on her neck. She looked at her jar of pickles through half-lidded eyes. 

“I actually needed dill ones,” Lisa all but whispered. 

The woman didn’t move. 

Kayleigh did. 

The kick hurt, sending Lisa’s hunger tumbling into nausea. She thrust her pickle jar into the nearest row and the whole shelf shook. Fleeing the store, the woman’s words ghosted after Lisa, even as she got in her car and drove away. 

Your baby’s going to hell. 

Lisa opened her eyes. 

Her vision focused on a family seated in front of her. She made out the shape of a small sleeping bundle held by the mother. Next to the mother, sat a tween in a grey sweater. Perfectly opposite Lisa was the father, who secured a toddler standing on his lap. Lisa could see the ring on his finger, glinting in the light of the stained glass windows. 

She could imagine the proposal, perfectly planned. The wedding, perfectly orchestrated. The children, perfectly crafted and raised. Nothing out of place. Nothing unplanned. 

The perfect Christian family, Lisa thought. Smiling faces and kind greetings reverberated in her mind. Would they have been so nice if they knew? If they saw her family wasn’t the perfect kind their God wanted?

Lisa looked at her daughter. Kayleigh sat listening to the Pastor with fervent interest. 

Kayleigh, her Kayleigh, looked so… content. 

How quickly would they turn on her? 

“I need to use the bathroom,” she said, exiting the row with a jerky shuffle and hurrying into the foyer. The bathroom door squeaked shut behind her.

It was a small room. Two stalls. One mirror. One sink.

Clutching the edges of the sink until her hands turned white, Lisa felt her ribs tighten against her lungs. She willed them to relax. They refused. 

It couldn’t be her. There was no way it was the same woman. Unless she moved thousands of miles to follow you, Lisa’s mind added unhelpfully. 

Her body shuddered with shallow breaths as she blinked back tears. 

The door squeaked open. Through the reflection of the mirror, Lisa saw a woman enter the bathroom. 

A woman in a floral dress. 

Shit.

The woman stopped, a concern look on her face. “Are you okay?”

Lisa didn’t answer. 

“You’re Kayleigh’s mother, is that right? Lisa?”

“Yes.”

Moving slowly, the woman came up beside her. “I’m Miriam. I don’t think we’ve met, but I work with the youth here. Kayleigh’s been looking forward to you coming for a long time.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” Miriam smiled. “The Lord has done an amazing work in her heart since I first met her.” 

“How long have you known Kayleigh?”

“Just under two years.”

“Two years.” Lisa sagged, leaning heavily against the sink. “I didn’t know.”

An indistinguishable hum – the Pastor’s voice, sneaking under the crack of the bathroom door – filled the silence that followed. 

“I shouldn’t have come,” Lisa said. 

“Why?”

She studied Miriam through the mirror. Its surface was marred by scratches that warped their reflections. As Lisa studied the flowers on Miriam’s dress, she saw delicate pastel petals seated on dark red vines, weaving patterns along the fabric. Turning, Lisa and met her gaze apart from the mirror. Kindness lived in the wrinkles around Miriam’s eyes, which studied her in return. She thought of her daughter, seated in the sanctuary, crowded into the sardine can of good Christians. Did Kayleigh know who she surrounded herself with? 

Kindness could hide such cruelty. 

Lisa steeled herself. “I’m not married.” When Miriam remained quiet, Lisa continued, “Kayleigh never had a father growing up. I know your God hates me for it. I just don’t want him to hate her too.” What little strength she had left, broke, and she wept quietly into the sink. 

A hand touched her shoulder. 

“God does not hate you, or her,” Miriam said. “God loves Kayleigh more than you can ever imagine. The Lord rejoices when He sees her, because His beloved daughter has finally come home. Kayleigh may not know her earthly father, but she knows her Heavenly One. He loves her, so, so much. And He loves you. God doesn’t hate you for your past. He just wants your heart with His.”

            A strange calmness settled in Lisa’s chest. As her ribs released their hold on her suffocating lungs, she took one deep breath after another, her tears subsiding. Finally, Lisa stood straight and wiped her nose. 

“Can I pray for you?” Miriam asked. 

Lisa shook her head. 

Miriam gave her a small smile. 

“Thank you,” Lisa said, and left the bathroom. 

The hum of the Pastor’s words grew louder as Lisa emerged, sharpening into something clear. There was power in his words, and with it, a certain gentleness. 

“For God so loved the world, that He gave His only Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish, but have eternal life.”

Lisa caught sight of her daughter, hovering near the entrance to the sanctuary, and she stared at Kayleigh from across the foyer. After a moment, Lisa took a wavering step toward her. 

“For God did not send His Son into the world to condemn the world…”

Tears stung in Lisa’s eyes once more as Kayleigh smiled at her. 

“…but to save the world through him.”

Her daughter crossed the distance, and Lisa was pulled into a hug. 

“Not to condemn,” rang the words in a gentle melody, “but to save.”