Imagine discovering you are pregnant and the next day, your boyfriend abandons you. He told you numerous times he didn’t want any more kids. You can’t afford to pay the rent without him. You move in with your parents in their small house, where your aunt and grandmother also live. Your parents are fed up with your behavior and angry with you for what they see as another huge mistake in your life.  

You get where they’re coming from, since you already have two children under the age of 7. You feel like a major failure. One day your mother sits you down and tells you she can’t continue giving you a place to stay. “We just don’t have the room,” she says.  

You know about friends who have had abortions. They’ve told you they were desperate and it seemed like a solution. But you also know how they cry, when they tell you about the baby they didn’t have. You know abortion is taking a life, and that goes against God’s law.  

You’ve looked for apartments, but even the most rundown places are too much for you to afford. The landlords want proof of employment, plus a security deposit you don’t have. Even if you did scrape up the money for rent, all it would take to make you homeless would be losing your job or having your hours cut. And so you cry at night and beg God, “What am I going to do?” 

The local shelters are filled to capacity and don’t seem safe for your children anyway. Then one day your aunt, who is Catholic, gives you a brochure about a place in South Carolina called St. Clare’s Home of Joyful Hope. This place is run by sisters and it gives women a cheerful home during their pregnancy and for two more years after that. The women can get more education, or work and save their money.  

There’s no way you can get to South Carolina, but maybe Atlanta has something like this. You visit a nearby Catholic church and talk with a young priest. In his office, you can hear the rumble and roar of construction trucks outside. He explains that the parish is building a new hall, since the other one was outdated.  

He has heard of the Catholic home in South Carolina and many others. He explains that some of them are funded by a men’s group, The Knights of Columbus, plus donations from individuals and parishes. The bad news, however, is there’s no home like St. Clare’s in Atlanta. Before you leave, he gives you phone numbers for local pro-life groups. “They don’t operate as shelters,” he says, “but they can help in other ways.” He promises to check on you.  

The next day, your boss cuts your hours at the grocery store. Your mother continues to insist you move out. You grow increasingly desperate. And so you decide to do the thing you feared all along. Your friends tell you it will be over quickly. It won’t be too bad. You make the appointment and immediately begin dreading it. You plan to tell your family it was a miscarriage.  

But when the day comes, you can’t do it. You love your other children with all your heart. You can’t imagine harming a baby. And so you pray and pray, and put your trust in God, like your grandmother always taught you.  

You hear about an opening at a local shelter. It’s crowded and noisy and bleak, but you have no other option. You pack your bags and move there with the kids. You can’t sleep at all the first night. Then you remember the quote you read as a child: “The Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.” As you fall asleep, you pray that he will find you a place. Somewhere that is peaceful and safe and filled with hope.