In the summer of 1963, the air was thick with the scent of blooming lilacs, but for Mary, the world felt suffocating. The small town of Maplewood—with its white picket fences and Sunday church services—was a place where secrets festered beneath the surface. At twenty-one, Mary was a bright young woman with dreams of becoming a teacher, but those dreams had been shattered by a single moment of passion that left her pregnant and alone.
As she sat on the edge of her bed, the weight of her decision pressed heavily on her chest. The walls of her childhood home, once a sanctuary filled with laughter and love, now felt like a prison. Her parents, staunchly traditional, would never accept her situation. The shame of being an unwed mother in the 1960s was a burden she could not bear. The whispers of judgment from neighbors and friends echoed in her mind, drowning out the love and support her family had always offered.
With thoughts swirling and her heart torn, Mary made a choice. She gathered a few belongings—a worn-out suitcase, a baby blanket knitted by her mother, and a cherished family photo. Cradling her growing belly, she fled into the night, her soul trembling with desperation and uncertainty.
The moon hung low in the sky, casting a silvery glow on the empty streets as she walked. Each step felt like a betrayal—a severing of the ties that had once bound her to everything she knew. She could almost hear her mother’s voice, filled with love and concern, urging her to stay, to talk, to seek help. But the fear of rejection loomed larger than love. She felt like a ghost, haunting the edges of her own life, lost in a world that no longer felt like home.
As she reached the outskirts of town, the familiar sights faded into the distance. The road ahead was uncertain, but the thought of raising her child in a world that would never accept them filled her with fierce determination. She would survive. She would protect her baby from the judgment that had driven her away.
What Mary didn’t realize was that the pain and embarrassment she thought she was escaping would follow her into the next chapter of her life. The scar she carried—though hidden—was already forgiven. Often, the battles we think we must fight alone were never ours to fight in the first place. Scripture gently reminds us, “Be still, and know that I am God” (Psalm 46:10).
Days turned into weeks as Mary navigated the challenges of her new life. She found refuge in a small, rundown apartment on the edge of the city. There, the noise of sirens and city life replaced the silence of her former home. Yet, in the quiet moments, memories of the past lingered. She was still running—not from people, but from a shadow that existed only in her mind. And though that shadow felt real, God was the only true source of her healing and identity.
Flight is often linked with feelings of humiliation, and in moments of crisis, our decisions are shaped by fear rather than faith. But in a posture of peace, we find clarity. When we slow down, we hear God’s voice more clearly, and rational decisions follow.
In the midst of what seems like chaos, God’s Word offers direction. Proverbs 3:5–6 teaches us to “Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will make your paths straight.” Mary’s journey—though marked with heartache—was also a path of divine redirection. Even when we walk away from everything we know, God never walks away from us.
Dr BJ is the wife of her beloved husband of over 44 years. She is the mother of two phenomenal adult children, an amazing bonus daughter, and Nana of incredible grandchildren.
