"Oh, Dominique!" I said to the empty sky. "Why aren't you here? How can I face this alone, without you? This is all wrong, so very wrong! This isn't how it's supposed to be. You're supposed to be by my side when I'm carrying your child inside of me! We're supposed to be married, not separated and single when we start our family! How could I have been so selfish to let this happen, and what's to become of us?"

It had seemed so beautiful at the time, so right; and now it seemed so wrong! How had it gone from right to wrong? Even as I asked myself the question, answers stabbed from my conscience which I had ignored along the way. From my conscience? No. Let's start being really honest. I was finally willing to recognize the Holy Spirit, trying to draw me back to where I was right - right before God. I knew it, and I knew I had chosen to ignore those same nudges for nearly a year.

The thoughts came rushing through my mind, revealing the stark reality of what I had done. I had allowed myself to get wrapped up in the discovery of a new world and in my relationship of love with a man. Early on, I began to ignore the call to fellowship with God in His Word and in His church among other Christians. Though Dominique and I had occasionally talked of faith together, I slipped right back into a life centered on fulfilling my own immediate desires, selfishly turning my back on each call from God concerning the rightness of what I was doing.

Sitting alone on the steps of our front porch, I was finally coming face-to-face with the ugly truth we are conditioned to ignore: there is a price to pay when we pass by the narrow gate called "right," and choose to enter by the broader way marked "self-service" in flashing neon lights. It is quicker. We get where we want, what we want, and when we want it, NOW! No waiting. Less working. No wondering. Less wishing.

"What would the price be?" I asked myself in secret torment. "Would Dominique and I ever get married? Would we spend the rest of our lives together as we had dreamed? Would I even tell him about this? Would I ever see him again? How could I marry him now and spend the rest of my life wondering if he had felt trapped? NO! I couldn't do that! I could never marry Dominique in those circumstances! I want to marry him in the full assurance that he WANTS me, not feeling it is his DUTY to marry me! Then, if I really believe that, I'm stuck! I CAN'T MARRY HIM, NOW! Oh, but I want to marry him."

• • • • • • •

I have a question: With such awful consequences to face afterwards, how do we ever get to the point of making wrong choices about love and sex in the first place? You would think the prospect of facing situations like the one you just read about in my story would be enough to keep us from our mistakes. It doesn't. We're just duped to believe we can have our good times and do what we want, but the bad things won't happen to us.

Young people often ask me, "Are you pro-life or pro-choice? Are you anti-abortion or pro-abortion?"

I answer, "I'm anti-abortion [for reasons you'll read about in the next chapter], but more importantly I'm pro-purity!" In discussions about their relationships, most of the younger people who live around us in the world we must deal with today don't even hear the word "purity" anymore. It sounds so foreign and so much like the word "puritan" to them, they usually screw up their faces and react with at least mild disgust or mockery the first time they hear me say it. But I ask you to give me a chance to explain what I mean.