Showing posts with label death. Show all posts
Showing posts with label death. Show all posts
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Patrick Swayze, Dirty Dancing and My Friend Heather
I was so sorry to hear that Patrick Swayze died. I loved to watch him dance. We watched Dirty Dancing for the first time in its entirety a few weeks ago. (I'd seen snippets on t.v. before). I wasn't at all sure it would be our kind of movie, but it was actually pretty good. I especially enjoyed, what else, the dancing! I went to school with one of the dancers and was very close friends with her sister, Julie, in middle school. Her name is Heather Gerdes and I met her when she was a 7th grader with waist length hair. I spent time with her talented family, even went to their rehearsal and a recital once, so I guess I "knew her when." She was featured quite a bit, even dancing briefly with Patrick Swayze at one point. I knew she'd gone all over the world to teach dance and do choreography after the movie came out. I found a bio of her here. Apparently she's a script supervisor now. We enjoyed the movie much more than we expected we would, and I was impressed with how often she was shown. I thought I might post about it some time, but then when I heard that Patrick Swayze had died, I decided to pay tribute to him as well. I knew him only as an actor and dancer, but my heart goes out to his family and friends who really knew him as a person.
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
September is Back and So Am I
I thank you for your kindness in bearing with me, after what may have seemed like a melodramatic statement when I posted last. I wrote it in the impulsive aftermath of an emotional night. My dislike of August has nothing whatsoever to do with the weather, but with a deep sorrow. After all these years I had thought it would not be so sharp. Indeed I get through some Augusts almost unscathed. Other years I am blindsided by what amounts to a tsunami through my heart. I would have liked to say a tsunami of my soul because to my writer's ear it sounds better. But I cannot because despite my pain, God has kept my soul firmly in His grasp. But as anyone who has a hidden sorrow - and I am beginning to think that is all of us - I needed a time of solitude and renewal. Prayer and Scripture, physical activity and creative endeavors have helped me with my grief. After all, God says precious in His sight are the death of His holy ones. We who are yet clothed in weak flesh need sometimes to rediscover that death is not the end of life.
Monday, June 8, 2009
For Your Amusement...
(I've had this skit script since we performed it as a radio play in high school, and thought you'd enjoy it. I did not write it but it is possible that -
FRONTIER MORTICIAN
Announcer: The makers of Fatrical present (MUSIC) –Frontier Mortician…
Are you skinny and run down? Are you so thin you have to wear skies in the bathtub to keep from going down the drain? When you turn sideways and stick out your tongue, do you look like a zipper? When you drink strawberry pop, do you look like a thermometer? Then you need Fatrical—the drink that adds weight to you. Fatrical is not a capsule, it is not a solid, it is not a liquid—it’s a gas that you inhale. Fatrical comes in one delicious gas flavor—mustard. It costs only $4.95 a case, and the equipment for inhaling it costs only $5,678. This includes a 10,000 cubit foot tank, 300 feet of hose, three pumps, two filter tips, and a partridge in a pear tree.
Now for our story—Trigger Mortis, Frontier Mortician. The scene opens in the residence of Sam Alamode, wealthy rancher and owner of the Bar B Q ranch in Sparerib, Texas. Sam is dying and is talking to his lovely daughter Piney Alamode, whom he lovingly calls Pie…
Sam: Pie, honey, I’m dying again. Go call Trigger Mortis, the frontier mortician. Have hearse, will travel.
Pie: What’s wrong with you, daddy? What’s your ailment?
Sam: I swallowed the thermometer and I’m dying by degrees.
Pie: I’ll go call Trigger Mortis right now…
Announcer: Unknown to Sam Alamode, his head foreman, Joe Silver, is hiding outside listening to the conversation. He’s a full-bloodied Indian. And Sam always called him his faithful Indian companion, Silver. Sam doesn’t hear Joe speak…
Joe: Let old Sam die. I wish he would. Then I can get the ranch and be set for life. He’s always got some fool disease. Last week he swallowed a dynamite cap and his hair came out in bangs. Before that he swallowed a hydrogen bomb and had atomic ache. He’s suffering from flower disease—he’s a blooming idiot. Hey—here comes Pie Alamode’s stupid boyfriend, Arnie…Poor kid…he’s an orphan…little orphan Arnie. I’ll just sneak away…
Arnie: I haven’t seen my girlfriend Pie Alamode for two weeks. Boy, she has lovely eyes—one is brown and the other two are blue. Last time she rolled her eyes at me, and I picked them up and rolled them back. I remember the first time she kissed me…it made chills go up and down my spine…then I found out her popsicle was leaking. I’ll knock at the door. (KNOCKS)
Pie: Who is it?
Arnie: It’s me, honey—and I call you honey ‘cause you have hives.
Pie: Oh, my cookie…and I call you cookie because you’re so crummy.
Announcer: We interrupt this love scene to bring you a message from Peter Pan makeup. Use Peter Pan before your pan peters out. This is the makeup used by the stars—Lassie, Gentle Ben, and Phyllis Diller. Listen to this letter from Mrs. Mergatroid Fluglehorn from Liverlip, Mississippi. “My face was so wrinkled I had to screw my hat on. Then I used Peter Pan makeup and I don’t look like an old woman anymore—I look like an old man. I had my wrinkles tightened up, and now every time I raise my eyebrows, I pull my socks up. I give all the credit to Peter Pan.” You can be beautiful, too…Now back to Frontier Mortician. Trigger Mortis, the frontier mortician, is answering his telephone…
Trig: Oh, it’s you, Miss Pie Alamode…You want me to come to see your father? Well, my hearse has been giving me trouble—I think I blew a casket. I’ve got to quit using embalming fluid in the gas tank, because the motor keeps dying. Yes…yes…well, I have to finish my breakfast. I’m eating Shrouded Wheat and Ghost Toasties…Well, I’ll hurry right out. Goodbye – I must be shoveling off.
Announcer: Pie Alamode hangs up and goes to meet her lover, little orphan Arnie, in their favorite meeting place…the family graveyard.
Pie: It’s so romantic here in the graveyard. There’s the grave of my Uncle Earnest. Look…there are some maggots courting in dead earnest.
Arnie: Darling, may I have your hand in marriage?
Pie: My hand? Oh yes! In fact, you can have my arm, too.
Arnie: Here, I’ll put this ring on your finger.
Pie: Awwww, your face is turning red.
Arnie: yeah, and your finger’s turning green…after all, we’ve been going together for twelve years now.
Pie: So what do you want—a pension? Let’s do tell my father.
Announcer: This program is brought to you by the Double Insanity Insurance Company. Mothers, do you have children? Then protect them with a double deal policy. We pay $100.00 if your son is killed by a herd of white elephants going east on Thursday. If you lose an arm, we help you look for it. If you get hit in the head, we pay you in one lump sum. We have a double indemnity clause, too. If you die in an accident, we bury you twice. Now, a report from the National Safety Council. It is predicted that 356 people will die in accidents this weekend. So far only 135 have been reported. Some of you aren’t trying. Now back to our story. Joe Silver is plotting to kidnap Pie Alamode and hold her for ransom. He thinks Sam Alamode is dying, but he really isn’t. Trigger Mortis, frontier mortician, is on his way to the ranch…
Trig: Well, here I am. When you are at death’s door, I will pull you through.
Sam: Good to see you, Trigger…Can you give me a good funeral?
Trig: I’ll give you a good funeral or your mummy back. Could I interest you in our new layaway plan?
Sam: I’m a sick man, a sick man. The doctor told me to drink some medicine after a hot bath, and I can hardly finish drinking the bath.
Trig: You need some of my Whistler’s Mother medicine – one dose and you’re off your rocker.
Sam: Trigger, I can trust you, can’t I?
Trig: Of corpse, of corpse…have I ever let you down?
Sam: I don’t trust my faithful Indian companion, Silver. He has a sneaky look.
Trig: I happen to know, Sam, that Joe Silver wants to kidnap your daughter and keep her from marrying little orphan Arnie.
Sam: Trigger, we gotta do something. Think of a plan.
Announcer: Will Trigger Mortis think of a plan? While he thinks, here’s a word from Honest John Pendergast, the used car dealer. Honest John has bargains in used cars that you can’t afford to miss. Here’s an 1887 Essex—this is a revolutionary car—Washington drove it at Valley Forge. The tires are so beat that you not only knock the pedestrians down, you whip them to death. This car has low lines—in fact, it’s so low it doesn’t have doors—it has manhole covers. This program is also brought to you by Glum, the toothpaste that gives your bad breath the Good Housekeeping seal of approval. Are your teeth like the Ten Commandments--all broken? Do you have a Pullman car mouth—one upper and one lower? Then use Glum…Glum contains eucalyptus oil, flown in from Australia…this eucalyptus oil is the secret of Glum. Millions of users say, “Man, you Clipt us.” Be true to your teeth and they will never be false to you. Now, back to Frontier Mortician. Sam, Pie, Arnie, and Trigger Mortis are trying to figure out how to get rid of Joe Silver.
Sam: I have a splitting headache.
Trig: Have your eyes ever been checked?
Sam: No, they’ve always been blue. Trigger, why don’t we put Joe in one of your coffins and ship him out of the state?
Trig: A tisket, a tasket, I’ll put him in a casket. I was in love once, so I know what Arnie and Pie are going through.
Pie: You were in love?
Trig: Yes. I was stuck on a girl who worked in the glue factory. She had a schoolgirl complexion…with diplomas under her eyes. Her lips were like petals—bicycle pedals. Those lips…those teeth…that hair…that eye…
Arnie: Hey—here comes Joe Silver. Get your coffin ready, Trigger.
Pie: Daddy, lie on the bed and act like you’re dead.
Announcer: Sam lies on the bed and holds his breath. Trigger takes off his shoes and everybody holds their breath. At this breathless moment, we bring you the daily police calls. Calling car 15, calling car 15—Happy Birthday, car 15, you’re now car 16. Car 56, Car 56, rush to the Bungling Brother’s Circus. The fat woman has hay fever and is crying so much three midgets are about to drown. Car 23, car 23—return the 10-gallon hat bought for the mayor. He has an 11-gallon head. Car 19, go to the corner of 6th and Main. The Chinese cook has just committed chop sueycide. Back to the story…Joe Silver enters Sam’s bedroom as the other people hide.
Joe: So I finally caught you, you scoundrel. You’ve cut my check so many times I have to endorse it with Mercurochrome. I want to marry your daughter, Sam, and nobody’s gonna stop me. Sure, I’m tough…I’ve been sent up the river so many times I get fan mail from the salmon. The last time they caught me I got ten years in jail and two in the electric chair. Even when I was a baby people were pinning things on me. Now, I’m gonna get you.
Sam: Get him, Arnie.
Trig: Quick, I have the casket opened. Push him, Arnie.
Joe: Help! Help! You’re pushing me! (MUFFLED SOUNDS)
Trig: That takes care of him. Now I have to run for a body. A fellow in town swallowed a quart of shellac and died. He had a lovely finish.
Arnie: How can we thank you? You’ll come to the wedding, won’t you?
Trig: Yes, I plan to give you a tombstone for a present, but don’t take it for granite.
Sam: Thanks, Trig. By the way, stop over and we’ll play golf someday.
Trig: Don’t ever play golf with an undertaker—he’s always on top at the last hole.
Arnie: Now we’re alone, Pie, my love. Someday you’ll have my name.
Pie: I never did find out—what is your last name, Arnie?
Arnie: My name is Arnie R. Square.
Pie: What a lovely name I’ll have…Mrs. Pie R. Square.
Announcer: And as the sun sinks slowly in the west, we leave the lovers as they plan their future. Tune in tomorrow for a new adventure, brought to you by Bleeties, the cereal for old goats. Bleeties contains 55% iron, 22% copper, 78% steel, 14% bronze and 11% zinc. It doesn’t snap, crackle or pop—it just lies there and rusts. Bleeties isn’t the breakfast of champions—it’s for people who just want to get into the semi-finals. In closing, be sure to visit your local dime store where they’re having a monster sale. Haven’t you always wanted to own your own monster? We have vampires at special prices and they‘re excellent for curing tired blood! These are experienced vampires who all worked as tellers in blood banks. Now, tune in tomorrow for the first episode of the new story, “I Was a Teen-Age Spinster,” brought to you by the gardener’s magazine, Weeder’s Digest.
the author of the skit is a semi-retired pastor byI haven't been able to confirm that yet. It is pure silliness and very "punny." Enjoy the melodrama!)
the name of Warren W. Wiersbe of Lincoln, Nebraska. He wrote it decades
ago while a youth worker with Youth For Christ. It tells about it in his
autobiography, "Be Myself." He's written about 100 books and been on
radio for years.
FRONTIER MORTICIAN
Announcer: The makers of Fatrical present (MUSIC) –Frontier Mortician…
Are you skinny and run down? Are you so thin you have to wear skies in the bathtub to keep from going down the drain? When you turn sideways and stick out your tongue, do you look like a zipper? When you drink strawberry pop, do you look like a thermometer? Then you need Fatrical—the drink that adds weight to you. Fatrical is not a capsule, it is not a solid, it is not a liquid—it’s a gas that you inhale. Fatrical comes in one delicious gas flavor—mustard. It costs only $4.95 a case, and the equipment for inhaling it costs only $5,678. This includes a 10,000 cubit foot tank, 300 feet of hose, three pumps, two filter tips, and a partridge in a pear tree.
Now for our story—Trigger Mortis, Frontier Mortician. The scene opens in the residence of Sam Alamode, wealthy rancher and owner of the Bar B Q ranch in Sparerib, Texas. Sam is dying and is talking to his lovely daughter Piney Alamode, whom he lovingly calls Pie…
Sam: Pie, honey, I’m dying again. Go call Trigger Mortis, the frontier mortician. Have hearse, will travel.
Pie: What’s wrong with you, daddy? What’s your ailment?
Sam: I swallowed the thermometer and I’m dying by degrees.
Pie: I’ll go call Trigger Mortis right now…
Announcer: Unknown to Sam Alamode, his head foreman, Joe Silver, is hiding outside listening to the conversation. He’s a full-bloodied Indian. And Sam always called him his faithful Indian companion, Silver. Sam doesn’t hear Joe speak…
Joe: Let old Sam die. I wish he would. Then I can get the ranch and be set for life. He’s always got some fool disease. Last week he swallowed a dynamite cap and his hair came out in bangs. Before that he swallowed a hydrogen bomb and had atomic ache. He’s suffering from flower disease—he’s a blooming idiot. Hey—here comes Pie Alamode’s stupid boyfriend, Arnie…Poor kid…he’s an orphan…little orphan Arnie. I’ll just sneak away…
Arnie: I haven’t seen my girlfriend Pie Alamode for two weeks. Boy, she has lovely eyes—one is brown and the other two are blue. Last time she rolled her eyes at me, and I picked them up and rolled them back. I remember the first time she kissed me…it made chills go up and down my spine…then I found out her popsicle was leaking. I’ll knock at the door. (KNOCKS)
Pie: Who is it?
Arnie: It’s me, honey—and I call you honey ‘cause you have hives.
Pie: Oh, my cookie…and I call you cookie because you’re so crummy.
Announcer: We interrupt this love scene to bring you a message from Peter Pan makeup. Use Peter Pan before your pan peters out. This is the makeup used by the stars—Lassie, Gentle Ben, and Phyllis Diller. Listen to this letter from Mrs. Mergatroid Fluglehorn from Liverlip, Mississippi. “My face was so wrinkled I had to screw my hat on. Then I used Peter Pan makeup and I don’t look like an old woman anymore—I look like an old man. I had my wrinkles tightened up, and now every time I raise my eyebrows, I pull my socks up. I give all the credit to Peter Pan.” You can be beautiful, too…Now back to Frontier Mortician. Trigger Mortis, the frontier mortician, is answering his telephone…
Trig: Oh, it’s you, Miss Pie Alamode…You want me to come to see your father? Well, my hearse has been giving me trouble—I think I blew a casket. I’ve got to quit using embalming fluid in the gas tank, because the motor keeps dying. Yes…yes…well, I have to finish my breakfast. I’m eating Shrouded Wheat and Ghost Toasties…Well, I’ll hurry right out. Goodbye – I must be shoveling off.
Announcer: Pie Alamode hangs up and goes to meet her lover, little orphan Arnie, in their favorite meeting place…the family graveyard.
Pie: It’s so romantic here in the graveyard. There’s the grave of my Uncle Earnest. Look…there are some maggots courting in dead earnest.
Arnie: Darling, may I have your hand in marriage?
Pie: My hand? Oh yes! In fact, you can have my arm, too.
Arnie: Here, I’ll put this ring on your finger.
Pie: Awwww, your face is turning red.
Arnie: yeah, and your finger’s turning green…after all, we’ve been going together for twelve years now.
Pie: So what do you want—a pension? Let’s do tell my father.
Announcer: This program is brought to you by the Double Insanity Insurance Company. Mothers, do you have children? Then protect them with a double deal policy. We pay $100.00 if your son is killed by a herd of white elephants going east on Thursday. If you lose an arm, we help you look for it. If you get hit in the head, we pay you in one lump sum. We have a double indemnity clause, too. If you die in an accident, we bury you twice. Now, a report from the National Safety Council. It is predicted that 356 people will die in accidents this weekend. So far only 135 have been reported. Some of you aren’t trying. Now back to our story. Joe Silver is plotting to kidnap Pie Alamode and hold her for ransom. He thinks Sam Alamode is dying, but he really isn’t. Trigger Mortis, frontier mortician, is on his way to the ranch…
Trig: Well, here I am. When you are at death’s door, I will pull you through.
Sam: Good to see you, Trigger…Can you give me a good funeral?
Trig: I’ll give you a good funeral or your mummy back. Could I interest you in our new layaway plan?
Sam: I’m a sick man, a sick man. The doctor told me to drink some medicine after a hot bath, and I can hardly finish drinking the bath.
Trig: You need some of my Whistler’s Mother medicine – one dose and you’re off your rocker.
Sam: Trigger, I can trust you, can’t I?
Trig: Of corpse, of corpse…have I ever let you down?
Sam: I don’t trust my faithful Indian companion, Silver. He has a sneaky look.
Trig: I happen to know, Sam, that Joe Silver wants to kidnap your daughter and keep her from marrying little orphan Arnie.
Sam: Trigger, we gotta do something. Think of a plan.
Announcer: Will Trigger Mortis think of a plan? While he thinks, here’s a word from Honest John Pendergast, the used car dealer. Honest John has bargains in used cars that you can’t afford to miss. Here’s an 1887 Essex—this is a revolutionary car—Washington drove it at Valley Forge. The tires are so beat that you not only knock the pedestrians down, you whip them to death. This car has low lines—in fact, it’s so low it doesn’t have doors—it has manhole covers. This program is also brought to you by Glum, the toothpaste that gives your bad breath the Good Housekeeping seal of approval. Are your teeth like the Ten Commandments--all broken? Do you have a Pullman car mouth—one upper and one lower? Then use Glum…Glum contains eucalyptus oil, flown in from Australia…this eucalyptus oil is the secret of Glum. Millions of users say, “Man, you Clipt us.” Be true to your teeth and they will never be false to you. Now, back to Frontier Mortician. Sam, Pie, Arnie, and Trigger Mortis are trying to figure out how to get rid of Joe Silver.
Sam: I have a splitting headache.
Trig: Have your eyes ever been checked?
Sam: No, they’ve always been blue. Trigger, why don’t we put Joe in one of your coffins and ship him out of the state?
Trig: A tisket, a tasket, I’ll put him in a casket. I was in love once, so I know what Arnie and Pie are going through.
Pie: You were in love?
Trig: Yes. I was stuck on a girl who worked in the glue factory. She had a schoolgirl complexion…with diplomas under her eyes. Her lips were like petals—bicycle pedals. Those lips…those teeth…that hair…that eye…
Arnie: Hey—here comes Joe Silver. Get your coffin ready, Trigger.
Pie: Daddy, lie on the bed and act like you’re dead.
Announcer: Sam lies on the bed and holds his breath. Trigger takes off his shoes and everybody holds their breath. At this breathless moment, we bring you the daily police calls. Calling car 15, calling car 15—Happy Birthday, car 15, you’re now car 16. Car 56, Car 56, rush to the Bungling Brother’s Circus. The fat woman has hay fever and is crying so much three midgets are about to drown. Car 23, car 23—return the 10-gallon hat bought for the mayor. He has an 11-gallon head. Car 19, go to the corner of 6th and Main. The Chinese cook has just committed chop sueycide. Back to the story…Joe Silver enters Sam’s bedroom as the other people hide.
Joe: So I finally caught you, you scoundrel. You’ve cut my check so many times I have to endorse it with Mercurochrome. I want to marry your daughter, Sam, and nobody’s gonna stop me. Sure, I’m tough…I’ve been sent up the river so many times I get fan mail from the salmon. The last time they caught me I got ten years in jail and two in the electric chair. Even when I was a baby people were pinning things on me. Now, I’m gonna get you.
Sam: Get him, Arnie.
Trig: Quick, I have the casket opened. Push him, Arnie.
Joe: Help! Help! You’re pushing me! (MUFFLED SOUNDS)
Trig: That takes care of him. Now I have to run for a body. A fellow in town swallowed a quart of shellac and died. He had a lovely finish.
Arnie: How can we thank you? You’ll come to the wedding, won’t you?
Trig: Yes, I plan to give you a tombstone for a present, but don’t take it for granite.
Sam: Thanks, Trig. By the way, stop over and we’ll play golf someday.
Trig: Don’t ever play golf with an undertaker—he’s always on top at the last hole.
Arnie: Now we’re alone, Pie, my love. Someday you’ll have my name.
Pie: I never did find out—what is your last name, Arnie?
Arnie: My name is Arnie R. Square.
Pie: What a lovely name I’ll have…Mrs. Pie R. Square.
Announcer: And as the sun sinks slowly in the west, we leave the lovers as they plan their future. Tune in tomorrow for a new adventure, brought to you by Bleeties, the cereal for old goats. Bleeties contains 55% iron, 22% copper, 78% steel, 14% bronze and 11% zinc. It doesn’t snap, crackle or pop—it just lies there and rusts. Bleeties isn’t the breakfast of champions—it’s for people who just want to get into the semi-finals. In closing, be sure to visit your local dime store where they’re having a monster sale. Haven’t you always wanted to own your own monster? We have vampires at special prices and they‘re excellent for curing tired blood! These are experienced vampires who all worked as tellers in blood banks. Now, tune in tomorrow for the first episode of the new story, “I Was a Teen-Age Spinster,” brought to you by the gardener’s magazine, Weeder’s Digest.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
The Other Victims
(I wrote this in 2003. Sadly, it is still relevant today).
"Abortion 1. The expulsion of a human fetus within the first 12 weeks of pregnancy, before it is viable."
"Viable 1b. (of a fetus) having reached such a stage of development as to be capable of living, under normal conditions, outside the uterus."
"Victim 2. A person who is deceived or cheated, as by his own emotions or ignorance, by the dishonesty of others or by some impersonal agency; a victim of misplaced confidence (Random House Dictionary, 1967.).
Women are being duped. When they are at their most vulnerable, they are lied to about a procedure that can steal their peace of mind, their health and even their lives. They are being cheated out of their children's lives. They are abortion's other victims.
I was twelve years old in 1973, when Roe v. Wade passed, and I remember all the slogans. The biggie was that a woman should have a right to choose what happens to her own body. Unfortunately, no one seemed concerned with responsibility for her body. Up until now a woman had the right to choose whether to have sex or not. She did this with the full understanding of the potential consequences, and when the inevitable happened, she took responsibility for the child that resulted, too. But someone started thinking it wasn't fair for the man not to have to be responsible for his part of the party, and rather than deciding the price of casual sex was too high, women decided there shouldn't be any consequences for anyone. So definitions began to be rewritten. Suddenly this child growing within her was no longer a child. It was a fetus, a product of conception, a part of her body that she could do with as she chose. And now the woman could be free, too, right?
But that has not been the reality at all. Women are still the ones who get pregnant, but now a man doesn't have to decide whether to marry her and support her and his child, or just pay child support for 18 years. No, now the man has a choice! He can use his considerable influence over her and insist she get an abortion or he's leaving. Far too often it is not the woman, who often is a very young woman, who chooses what happens to her, her body or her unborn child. I was discussing this concept with a classmate in one of my classes, and she unexpectedly said, "Yeah, I know all about that. When I was 17, my mother forced me to have an abortion. Two days before Christmas! I'm 34 now, and I'm just starting to be able to deal with it" (personal anonymous communication, February 20, 2003).
"Hey, that happened to me, too," the girl sitting next to her spoke up. "I was 16. My dad said he'd disown me if I didn't do it, and my boyfriend said he would have nothing to do with me or the baby otherwise. And they were so mean to me (at the clinic)! They didn't counsel me, and they said it would be no big deal, but it hurt! Really bad for a long time" (personal anonymous communication, February 20, 2003).
"Yes," added the first girl, "and not just physically, either," pointing to her head significantly.
The truth is that abortion is big business. Those "back alley butchers" of the past were just bad doctors making a little money on the side. Now they can make a lot of money legally. That doesn't make them better doctors. It seems when money or power is involved many people forget about the people they are hurting. Planned Parenthood used to be against abortion. In 1963, they put out a pamphlet called 'Plan Your Children' that stated, "An abortion kills the life of a baby after is has begun. It is dangerous to your life and health." Just when did it become a safe procedure that simply disposed of the product of conception? The politicians sway with the winds on what they 'believe' about abortion, too. Al Gore used to be staunchly pro-life, and now he hotly denies his past voting record. Rep. Richard Gephardt (D-Mo.), Sen. Edward Kennedy (D-Mass), President Bill Clinton, and Senator Jesse Jackson all wrote letters, gave speeches, and even wrote an article for National Right to Life (J. Jackson), supporting life beginning at conception, opposing government funding for abortion, and talking about the dangers of abortion. This was as late as 1986, but all of them turned their back on it when it didn't suit them politically to support life (2001).
Women going in a clinic to get an abortion are not told the truth about what's going on there. They are not told about the developmental stage of their baby, or even the fact that it is a baby. No one explains that this baby is implanted in the uterus long before they even know they are pregnant, and it depends on its mother for nourishment and safety in order to grow to full size. They are told how much trouble it would be to have a baby, and how easy and sensible it is to just get rid of it now. They aren't told how beautiful this little baby is, just that it is a blob. I know firsthand that this is not true, because I saw my perfect, tiny, dead baby after I miscarried at 18 weeks. This was a baby, like a child's doll, small and perfectly formed. Nathan's tiny eyes were still sealed shut, and his skin was translucent, with blood vessels showing through. His ears were like little pink shells, and he had a tiny rosebud mouth, like Cupid's bow. He had ten little fingers and ten little toes, and he had the sweetest face. He was big enough to hold. He was not ready to live outside of my womb, and that is the whole reason he was in there. Not viable is not the same as not living. We are not viable if taken out of earth's atmosphere without a spaceship, which is why we have the spaceship!
But the women are not told any of this. They are told they will have a simple procedure and the problem will be solved. The reality is that the procedure is very invasive, scary and painful. Sometimes they can hear the vacuum, and they can certainly feel it. It is psychologically horrifying. They hurt, inside and out, and it suddenly hits them just what they are doing. But it's too late and then its time to go home. Often the women are in severe pain with cramping, nausea, and severe bleeding. Sometimes they can't even walk for a day or two, and it can take weeks before it doesn't hurt physically anymore. Mentally, it takes much, much longer. And for far too many women, there are serious complications.
Women are told that abortions are safe now, but that is not entirely true. In 1983 the U.S. Bureau of Vital Statistics provided data showing that the advent of penicillin in the 1950's and 1960's correlated to a dramatic drop in maternal deaths, well before abortion was legalized. Abortions did not become safer with legalization, but instead with the advent of penicillin to fight infection (Wilke, Dr. & Mrs., 1998). And still, there are many complications that no one seems to want to admit to. If most women realized the severe consequences that can occur from an abortion they might think twice about it. Even the big medical centers have complications regularly, and most abortions take place in free-standing clinics with a much lower standard of care. One doctor wrote in the OB/GYN Observer that "87% of 486 obstetricians and gynecologists had to hospitalize at least one patient this year due to complications of legal abortions" (Bulfin, 1975). Bleeding can be severe, and women can become anemic and even need blood transfusions. Infection is a common complication, and so is perforation of the uterus, or scarring of the fallopian tubes. These things are not only painful, but often lead to sterility (Wilke, Dr. & Mrs., 1998).
One pro-abortion professor of OB/GYN did a follow-up study of 50 teenagers that he had performed abortions on. He pointed out that a teenager's cervix, with a first pregnancy, is always small and tightly closed and very easy to damage with forced dilatation. He said the results of his study were dismal, considering what happened with their 53 subsequent pregnancies. "Six had another induced abortion. Nineteen had spontaneous miscarriages. One delivered a stillborn baby at 6 months. Six babies died between birth and 2 years. Twenty-one babies survived" (Russell, 1974).
But many doctors point out that for a teenager under 16 there are no more complications of pregnancy than for older women, and for 15 to 17 year olds it may even be safer than for those in their 20's (McAnarney, 1978, Hopkins, 1980, Sutton-Smith, 1979, Sukanich, et al., 1986).
Some doctors are beginning to find a possible correlation between abortion and breast cancer, with one doctor on the news noting that breast cancer used to be a disease mainly for older women.
But there are other complications that are just as devastating. Many people, truly compassionate people, want to help the frightened young mother so badly that they convince her that abortion is no big deal, and will take her out of her seemingly impossible situation and restore things back to the way they were. And she, desperate, wants to believe them. So she closes her ears to the voice screaming inside her that this is her child she is killing, and she has the procedure, often being told it is the only responsible thing to do. Sometimes, she even feels relief at first that she no longer has to try to figure everything out, like where to live, how to survive, and how to get through school on her own with a baby to raise. But the long term effects can lead to self-hatred, anxiety, anger, and substance abuse. And it leads to violence against children.
"There is a clear statistical association between increased rates of abortion and increased rates of child abuse. Indeed, statistical and clinical research support not only an association, but a causal connection between abortion and subsequent child abuse" (Burke & Reardon, 1998). Remember the slogan, "Every child a wanted child!" Somehow killing the ones we didn't want would make the lucky ones that we wanted better off somehow. Since so many babies have died, I wish that slogan were true. It would be nice to think that some kind of good had come out of all of this. Unfortunately, the rate of child abuse has risen dramatically over the past 25 years. Experts say that between 1976 and 1987 alone, 330% more child abuse was reported (Burke & Reardon, 1998). It is tragic, but not all that surprising. Did we really think that cheapening the life of children, so that they weren't even safe in their mother's wombs, would make us more caring and willing to sacrifice for the ones we let live? Parenting is about the hardest thing we commit to, being totally responsible for a weak, dependent, ever-present child. It takes self-sacrifice and that is the opposite of what abortion stands for. Women and men, even grandparents, who are not willing to make any concessions for one child cannot be depended on to have developed enough responsibility to give another the enormous amounts of care he needs. And the inhibitions have been broken down.
But there is another, less obvious, reason for the rise in child abuse. This is from guilt. Sometimes it hits right away, at the clinic even, and the woman feels guilty, empty, shamed and terrified. I can understand how this might happen. I had a miscarriage and I spent an awful lot of time blaming myself. I must have done something wrong, or my baby would be alive. Is it because I was worried about how I would cope with three babies at once (my other two were only 1 1/2 and 2 1/2)? Didn't I want it enough? Did I eat the wrong thing? Lift something heavy? What? I was angry, too, at the doctors, for not realizing what was going on when I went in that day. I felt I had to make it up somehow, help other children, something. We took on a foster child, partly because I was "supposed" to have three boys, not two. I still feel guilty sometimes, still think that he would be 19, wondering what would he be like, wishing I could have held him,thinking what it felt like when I was carrying him. So I can only imagine if I had deliberately caused his demise. I don't think I could live with myself, and many of these women can't either. They sink into depression, and have trouble relating to their surviving children. They see other babies and cry. And sometimes far worse things happen.
Psychiatrist Phillip Ney, M.D. has done a great deal of research into the link between abortion and child abuse. He has seen that abortion disrupts the bonding with other children and weakens the maternal instinct. Also, there is reduced inhibitions against violence, particularly against children. There is heightened levels of anger, rage and depression among post-abortive women (1988). Sometimes this is recognized as the trauma of abortion and counseling has been offered. Through this counseling, disturbing things have come to light. Counselors have recognized a syndrome, known as PAS, or Post Abortion Syndrome, that is very similar to Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, seen up to ten years after the war in Vietnam vets. (Wilke, Dr. & Mrs., n.d.). Counselors are beginning to see a clinical reliving of the cause of the pain. While the mind tries to deal with it by reliving it over and over, it also tries to protect you from it by hiding the cause. What this has led to is women playing out scenarios of hurting their children, and the ensuing shame and punishment, and it horrifies them. One woman kept thinking about poisoning her children, and when she was asked to describe her abortion, she described it as poisoning the fetus. Yet she never made the connection. Many women feel a need to "make it up" to the baby by helping other babies, and open daycares, only to fantasize about or even hurt by shaking, these children, then feeling the guilt again like when they had an abortion. (Burke, T. & Reardon, D., 1988). It is only through grief counseling that these women are able to get through this so that their children are not in danger. But those who don't get counseling can carry through in ways you've heard about on the news. One woman killed her three year old son, and in court began talking about how she'd known the abortion she'd had the day before was wrong, and she should be punished. Another woman jumped off of a bridge with her children, and said later that she was trying to reunite her family (Burke & Reardon, 1998). Suicide is a result of PAS also, since symptoms include guilt, regret, shame, remorse, lowered self-esteem, insomnia, dreams and nightmares, flash backs, and even hostility and hatred toward men, including her husband. This can lead to hopelessness and suicide (Wilke, Dr. & Mrs., n.d.).
"The suicide rate after an abortion was three times the general suicide rate and six times that associated with birth...the rate for women following a live birth was 5.9 per 100,000; following miscarriage 18.1; following abortion 34.7" (Gissler, 1996).
Abortion, touted as a necessary choice to help women with their lives, leads to nothing but death. Thirty million babies have died, with all of their contributions to society silenced with them (Stevenson, Dr. K, 1998). Countless other babies have never been born due to sterility caused by abortions. Mothers die, too, emotionally and physically. The Centers for Disease Control grossly underreported these maternal deaths for a variety of reasons, not the least of which is "that a large percentage of CDC employees have direct ties to the abortion industry" (Crutcher, M., n.d.). Also, most abortions take place in clinics, but if there are complications such as hemorrhaging, infection, perforated uterus, blood clot, blood transfusion, salt poisoning, amniotic fluid embolism, drop in blood clotting ability, or even suicide, they are sent to hospitals, and the attending doctor lists the complication as the cause of death. Some of these deaths take place a while after the abortion and the connection is not always made (Wilke, Dr. & Mrs., 1998). And there are other kinds of death: the death of trust between other children and their mother, the trust between a woman and the father of her baby, and the trust a woman had in her own parents. Whether the woman decides to go through with the abortion over their protests or whether they force her into it, someone has lost a child or a grandchild, and other children have lost siblings.
Women have been lied to, causing great harm to them. They have been tricked into having even less choice than before. They have been cheated out of their own children. Abortion is not a solution. It is a destroyer, and women are its victims. But it doesn't have to stay that way. We can't undo what we have done, but we can certainly stop inflicting this pain on so many millions. We don't have to keep lying to our young women. We can take responsibility now and tell the truth about abortion. There are many caring people and organizations that not only oppose abortion, but spend a tremendous amount of time volunteering to help counsel and heal women who are suffering from the results of abortion. I am proud to say that a great many of them are Christian, but those aren't the only voices opposing abortion. The horror this is causing has come to the attention of groups as diverse as Priests for Life to the Atheist and Agnostic Pro-life League, and they are all starting to band together against the devastation. Abortion doctors have recanted their profession and are speaking out about the truth of what is really happening in those clinics (Priests for Life, n.d.) Brave, sad young women have begun writing their heartbreaking stories for others to read, so that maybe someone else will be spared their incredible pain. I believe women should be able to make informed choices about what they do, both with their bodies and their children, and they can't do that without knowing the truth.
(References provided on request)
"Abortion 1. The expulsion of a human fetus within the first 12 weeks of pregnancy, before it is viable."
"Viable 1b. (of a fetus) having reached such a stage of development as to be capable of living, under normal conditions, outside the uterus."
"Victim 2. A person who is deceived or cheated, as by his own emotions or ignorance, by the dishonesty of others or by some impersonal agency; a victim of misplaced confidence (Random House Dictionary, 1967.).
Women are being duped. When they are at their most vulnerable, they are lied to about a procedure that can steal their peace of mind, their health and even their lives. They are being cheated out of their children's lives. They are abortion's other victims.
I was twelve years old in 1973, when Roe v. Wade passed, and I remember all the slogans. The biggie was that a woman should have a right to choose what happens to her own body. Unfortunately, no one seemed concerned with responsibility for her body. Up until now a woman had the right to choose whether to have sex or not. She did this with the full understanding of the potential consequences, and when the inevitable happened, she took responsibility for the child that resulted, too. But someone started thinking it wasn't fair for the man not to have to be responsible for his part of the party, and rather than deciding the price of casual sex was too high, women decided there shouldn't be any consequences for anyone. So definitions began to be rewritten. Suddenly this child growing within her was no longer a child. It was a fetus, a product of conception, a part of her body that she could do with as she chose. And now the woman could be free, too, right?
But that has not been the reality at all. Women are still the ones who get pregnant, but now a man doesn't have to decide whether to marry her and support her and his child, or just pay child support for 18 years. No, now the man has a choice! He can use his considerable influence over her and insist she get an abortion or he's leaving. Far too often it is not the woman, who often is a very young woman, who chooses what happens to her, her body or her unborn child. I was discussing this concept with a classmate in one of my classes, and she unexpectedly said, "Yeah, I know all about that. When I was 17, my mother forced me to have an abortion. Two days before Christmas! I'm 34 now, and I'm just starting to be able to deal with it" (personal anonymous communication, February 20, 2003).
"Hey, that happened to me, too," the girl sitting next to her spoke up. "I was 16. My dad said he'd disown me if I didn't do it, and my boyfriend said he would have nothing to do with me or the baby otherwise. And they were so mean to me (at the clinic)! They didn't counsel me, and they said it would be no big deal, but it hurt! Really bad for a long time" (personal anonymous communication, February 20, 2003).
"Yes," added the first girl, "and not just physically, either," pointing to her head significantly.
The truth is that abortion is big business. Those "back alley butchers" of the past were just bad doctors making a little money on the side. Now they can make a lot of money legally. That doesn't make them better doctors. It seems when money or power is involved many people forget about the people they are hurting. Planned Parenthood used to be against abortion. In 1963, they put out a pamphlet called 'Plan Your Children' that stated, "An abortion kills the life of a baby after is has begun. It is dangerous to your life and health." Just when did it become a safe procedure that simply disposed of the product of conception? The politicians sway with the winds on what they 'believe' about abortion, too. Al Gore used to be staunchly pro-life, and now he hotly denies his past voting record. Rep. Richard Gephardt (D-Mo.), Sen. Edward Kennedy (D-Mass), President Bill Clinton, and Senator Jesse Jackson all wrote letters, gave speeches, and even wrote an article for National Right to Life (J. Jackson), supporting life beginning at conception, opposing government funding for abortion, and talking about the dangers of abortion. This was as late as 1986, but all of them turned their back on it when it didn't suit them politically to support life (2001).
Women going in a clinic to get an abortion are not told the truth about what's going on there. They are not told about the developmental stage of their baby, or even the fact that it is a baby. No one explains that this baby is implanted in the uterus long before they even know they are pregnant, and it depends on its mother for nourishment and safety in order to grow to full size. They are told how much trouble it would be to have a baby, and how easy and sensible it is to just get rid of it now. They aren't told how beautiful this little baby is, just that it is a blob. I know firsthand that this is not true, because I saw my perfect, tiny, dead baby after I miscarried at 18 weeks. This was a baby, like a child's doll, small and perfectly formed. Nathan's tiny eyes were still sealed shut, and his skin was translucent, with blood vessels showing through. His ears were like little pink shells, and he had a tiny rosebud mouth, like Cupid's bow. He had ten little fingers and ten little toes, and he had the sweetest face. He was big enough to hold. He was not ready to live outside of my womb, and that is the whole reason he was in there. Not viable is not the same as not living. We are not viable if taken out of earth's atmosphere without a spaceship, which is why we have the spaceship!
But the women are not told any of this. They are told they will have a simple procedure and the problem will be solved. The reality is that the procedure is very invasive, scary and painful. Sometimes they can hear the vacuum, and they can certainly feel it. It is psychologically horrifying. They hurt, inside and out, and it suddenly hits them just what they are doing. But it's too late and then its time to go home. Often the women are in severe pain with cramping, nausea, and severe bleeding. Sometimes they can't even walk for a day or two, and it can take weeks before it doesn't hurt physically anymore. Mentally, it takes much, much longer. And for far too many women, there are serious complications.
Women are told that abortions are safe now, but that is not entirely true. In 1983 the U.S. Bureau of Vital Statistics provided data showing that the advent of penicillin in the 1950's and 1960's correlated to a dramatic drop in maternal deaths, well before abortion was legalized. Abortions did not become safer with legalization, but instead with the advent of penicillin to fight infection (Wilke, Dr. & Mrs., 1998). And still, there are many complications that no one seems to want to admit to. If most women realized the severe consequences that can occur from an abortion they might think twice about it. Even the big medical centers have complications regularly, and most abortions take place in free-standing clinics with a much lower standard of care. One doctor wrote in the OB/GYN Observer that "87% of 486 obstetricians and gynecologists had to hospitalize at least one patient this year due to complications of legal abortions" (Bulfin, 1975). Bleeding can be severe, and women can become anemic and even need blood transfusions. Infection is a common complication, and so is perforation of the uterus, or scarring of the fallopian tubes. These things are not only painful, but often lead to sterility (Wilke, Dr. & Mrs., 1998).
One pro-abortion professor of OB/GYN did a follow-up study of 50 teenagers that he had performed abortions on. He pointed out that a teenager's cervix, with a first pregnancy, is always small and tightly closed and very easy to damage with forced dilatation. He said the results of his study were dismal, considering what happened with their 53 subsequent pregnancies. "Six had another induced abortion. Nineteen had spontaneous miscarriages. One delivered a stillborn baby at 6 months. Six babies died between birth and 2 years. Twenty-one babies survived" (Russell, 1974).
But many doctors point out that for a teenager under 16 there are no more complications of pregnancy than for older women, and for 15 to 17 year olds it may even be safer than for those in their 20's (McAnarney, 1978, Hopkins, 1980, Sutton-Smith, 1979, Sukanich, et al., 1986).
Some doctors are beginning to find a possible correlation between abortion and breast cancer, with one doctor on the news noting that breast cancer used to be a disease mainly for older women.
But there are other complications that are just as devastating. Many people, truly compassionate people, want to help the frightened young mother so badly that they convince her that abortion is no big deal, and will take her out of her seemingly impossible situation and restore things back to the way they were. And she, desperate, wants to believe them. So she closes her ears to the voice screaming inside her that this is her child she is killing, and she has the procedure, often being told it is the only responsible thing to do. Sometimes, she even feels relief at first that she no longer has to try to figure everything out, like where to live, how to survive, and how to get through school on her own with a baby to raise. But the long term effects can lead to self-hatred, anxiety, anger, and substance abuse. And it leads to violence against children.
"There is a clear statistical association between increased rates of abortion and increased rates of child abuse. Indeed, statistical and clinical research support not only an association, but a causal connection between abortion and subsequent child abuse" (Burke & Reardon, 1998). Remember the slogan, "Every child a wanted child!" Somehow killing the ones we didn't want would make the lucky ones that we wanted better off somehow. Since so many babies have died, I wish that slogan were true. It would be nice to think that some kind of good had come out of all of this. Unfortunately, the rate of child abuse has risen dramatically over the past 25 years. Experts say that between 1976 and 1987 alone, 330% more child abuse was reported (Burke & Reardon, 1998). It is tragic, but not all that surprising. Did we really think that cheapening the life of children, so that they weren't even safe in their mother's wombs, would make us more caring and willing to sacrifice for the ones we let live? Parenting is about the hardest thing we commit to, being totally responsible for a weak, dependent, ever-present child. It takes self-sacrifice and that is the opposite of what abortion stands for. Women and men, even grandparents, who are not willing to make any concessions for one child cannot be depended on to have developed enough responsibility to give another the enormous amounts of care he needs. And the inhibitions have been broken down.
But there is another, less obvious, reason for the rise in child abuse. This is from guilt. Sometimes it hits right away, at the clinic even, and the woman feels guilty, empty, shamed and terrified. I can understand how this might happen. I had a miscarriage and I spent an awful lot of time blaming myself. I must have done something wrong, or my baby would be alive. Is it because I was worried about how I would cope with three babies at once (my other two were only 1 1/2 and 2 1/2)? Didn't I want it enough? Did I eat the wrong thing? Lift something heavy? What? I was angry, too, at the doctors, for not realizing what was going on when I went in that day. I felt I had to make it up somehow, help other children, something. We took on a foster child, partly because I was "supposed" to have three boys, not two. I still feel guilty sometimes, still think that he would be 19, wondering what would he be like, wishing I could have held him,thinking what it felt like when I was carrying him. So I can only imagine if I had deliberately caused his demise. I don't think I could live with myself, and many of these women can't either. They sink into depression, and have trouble relating to their surviving children. They see other babies and cry. And sometimes far worse things happen.
Psychiatrist Phillip Ney, M.D. has done a great deal of research into the link between abortion and child abuse. He has seen that abortion disrupts the bonding with other children and weakens the maternal instinct. Also, there is reduced inhibitions against violence, particularly against children. There is heightened levels of anger, rage and depression among post-abortive women (1988). Sometimes this is recognized as the trauma of abortion and counseling has been offered. Through this counseling, disturbing things have come to light. Counselors have recognized a syndrome, known as PAS, or Post Abortion Syndrome, that is very similar to Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, seen up to ten years after the war in Vietnam vets. (Wilke, Dr. & Mrs., n.d.). Counselors are beginning to see a clinical reliving of the cause of the pain. While the mind tries to deal with it by reliving it over and over, it also tries to protect you from it by hiding the cause. What this has led to is women playing out scenarios of hurting their children, and the ensuing shame and punishment, and it horrifies them. One woman kept thinking about poisoning her children, and when she was asked to describe her abortion, she described it as poisoning the fetus. Yet she never made the connection. Many women feel a need to "make it up" to the baby by helping other babies, and open daycares, only to fantasize about or even hurt by shaking, these children, then feeling the guilt again like when they had an abortion. (Burke, T. & Reardon, D., 1988). It is only through grief counseling that these women are able to get through this so that their children are not in danger. But those who don't get counseling can carry through in ways you've heard about on the news. One woman killed her three year old son, and in court began talking about how she'd known the abortion she'd had the day before was wrong, and she should be punished. Another woman jumped off of a bridge with her children, and said later that she was trying to reunite her family (Burke & Reardon, 1998). Suicide is a result of PAS also, since symptoms include guilt, regret, shame, remorse, lowered self-esteem, insomnia, dreams and nightmares, flash backs, and even hostility and hatred toward men, including her husband. This can lead to hopelessness and suicide (Wilke, Dr. & Mrs., n.d.).
"The suicide rate after an abortion was three times the general suicide rate and six times that associated with birth...the rate for women following a live birth was 5.9 per 100,000; following miscarriage 18.1; following abortion 34.7" (Gissler, 1996).
Abortion, touted as a necessary choice to help women with their lives, leads to nothing but death. Thirty million babies have died, with all of their contributions to society silenced with them (Stevenson, Dr. K, 1998). Countless other babies have never been born due to sterility caused by abortions. Mothers die, too, emotionally and physically. The Centers for Disease Control grossly underreported these maternal deaths for a variety of reasons, not the least of which is "that a large percentage of CDC employees have direct ties to the abortion industry" (Crutcher, M., n.d.). Also, most abortions take place in clinics, but if there are complications such as hemorrhaging, infection, perforated uterus, blood clot, blood transfusion, salt poisoning, amniotic fluid embolism, drop in blood clotting ability, or even suicide, they are sent to hospitals, and the attending doctor lists the complication as the cause of death. Some of these deaths take place a while after the abortion and the connection is not always made (Wilke, Dr. & Mrs., 1998). And there are other kinds of death: the death of trust between other children and their mother, the trust between a woman and the father of her baby, and the trust a woman had in her own parents. Whether the woman decides to go through with the abortion over their protests or whether they force her into it, someone has lost a child or a grandchild, and other children have lost siblings.
Women have been lied to, causing great harm to them. They have been tricked into having even less choice than before. They have been cheated out of their own children. Abortion is not a solution. It is a destroyer, and women are its victims. But it doesn't have to stay that way. We can't undo what we have done, but we can certainly stop inflicting this pain on so many millions. We don't have to keep lying to our young women. We can take responsibility now and tell the truth about abortion. There are many caring people and organizations that not only oppose abortion, but spend a tremendous amount of time volunteering to help counsel and heal women who are suffering from the results of abortion. I am proud to say that a great many of them are Christian, but those aren't the only voices opposing abortion. The horror this is causing has come to the attention of groups as diverse as Priests for Life to the Atheist and Agnostic Pro-life League, and they are all starting to band together against the devastation. Abortion doctors have recanted their profession and are speaking out about the truth of what is really happening in those clinics (Priests for Life, n.d.) Brave, sad young women have begun writing their heartbreaking stories for others to read, so that maybe someone else will be spared their incredible pain. I believe women should be able to make informed choices about what they do, both with their bodies and their children, and they can't do that without knowing the truth.
(References provided on request)
Thursday, September 11, 2008
9-11-01 Memories
September 11, 2001 was already a weird, tense day before the planes ever left the ground. For me it was, anyway. After 20 years of staying home to school my children and keep my home, I was headed out to find a job. All summer my husband had been getting sicker and sicker, and no matter how many doctors I took him to, nobody could figure out what was going on. After a summer of trying to spend all my time taking care of him and preparing myself for whatever we might be about to face, I finally knew I had to go to work. I was sick myself, at the thought of leaving him alone and untended, but if I could bring some money in, it would at least be one less worry for him. (It would be a year before we got the diagnosis of encephalitis due to a virus similar to West Nile, and 2 years before he could even begin to think about returning to work).
So I went to one interview, along with a little orientation. I tried to pay attention, but I was thinking of my husband, and also of my robust grandfather, who'd been taken suddenly ill the day before. Finally it was time to head to my second interview at an attorney's office. It was a bit of a drive, so I turned the radio to the Christian station and set out. But the Christian station seemed to be doing some sort of skit or something out of the ordinary. They played a little music, then broke in and said a plane had hit the World Trade Tower. Then shortly after that, they spoke of a second plane. I thought they were doing a take off on "War of the Worlds," possibly trying to show people what it would be like if the end of the world came and they weren't spiritually ready, and I was quite indignant. It seemed irresponsible to frighten people that way. I was looking out the window at everyone going about life as usual, nobody seeming distressed in any way. When the third interruption came on, saying a plane had hit the Pentagon, I'd had it. It suddenly occurred to me that if I changed the channel, I could find out if there was any thing to it. I adjusted the dial, fully expecting the other channels to be calmly playing music. But of course that wasn't the case, and I tried to absorb the reports I was now hearing on every channel I hit. By the time I reached the attorney's office, I was shaking. I watched a lady walking her dog, a man doing landscaping work in the median, cars coming and going. Finally, I dialed my cell phone to see what my husband had heard. He'd been trying to relax and was unaware of anything happening. I told him to turn on the t.v. because we were under attack. He couldn't imagine what I could mean, but he flipped on the t.v. and in a very subdued voice, said "Oh, no," and I knew it was true. I told him I'd be home as soon as I could, and it was then he told me he'd just gotten a call that my grandfather had died that morning.
I went in to the interview with eyes full of tears and a head so muddled I couldn't even remember my social security number, flubbed a test I was given, and stumbled through the interview. Finally I could head home. But on the way, I passed the Red Cross office and decided to go in and donate blood. It was a madhouse, and for the first time I could see footage on the little t.v. in the waiting room. After way too long for my nerves, I was called in, but my blood pressure was so high by then that they wouldn't let me give blood after all. I headed home and in to the arms of my husband and sons. I got a phone call letting me know I had gotten the first job, at an insurance adjuster's office, and I would begin the next day, so I just had to put everything going on in my life in to little compartments in my head and learn a new job to support my family. I didn't really have time to process anything. No one in the family could fly to Grandpa's funeral, or even have flowers sent, due to the planes all being grounded. But I had a picture in my head of my Grandpa, bustling about in Heaven greeting all the new arrivals, the way he did at church, with a smile, a handshake, and a warm, friendly word.
So I went to one interview, along with a little orientation. I tried to pay attention, but I was thinking of my husband, and also of my robust grandfather, who'd been taken suddenly ill the day before. Finally it was time to head to my second interview at an attorney's office. It was a bit of a drive, so I turned the radio to the Christian station and set out. But the Christian station seemed to be doing some sort of skit or something out of the ordinary. They played a little music, then broke in and said a plane had hit the World Trade Tower. Then shortly after that, they spoke of a second plane. I thought they were doing a take off on "War of the Worlds," possibly trying to show people what it would be like if the end of the world came and they weren't spiritually ready, and I was quite indignant. It seemed irresponsible to frighten people that way. I was looking out the window at everyone going about life as usual, nobody seeming distressed in any way. When the third interruption came on, saying a plane had hit the Pentagon, I'd had it. It suddenly occurred to me that if I changed the channel, I could find out if there was any thing to it. I adjusted the dial, fully expecting the other channels to be calmly playing music. But of course that wasn't the case, and I tried to absorb the reports I was now hearing on every channel I hit. By the time I reached the attorney's office, I was shaking. I watched a lady walking her dog, a man doing landscaping work in the median, cars coming and going. Finally, I dialed my cell phone to see what my husband had heard. He'd been trying to relax and was unaware of anything happening. I told him to turn on the t.v. because we were under attack. He couldn't imagine what I could mean, but he flipped on the t.v. and in a very subdued voice, said "Oh, no," and I knew it was true. I told him I'd be home as soon as I could, and it was then he told me he'd just gotten a call that my grandfather had died that morning.
I went in to the interview with eyes full of tears and a head so muddled I couldn't even remember my social security number, flubbed a test I was given, and stumbled through the interview. Finally I could head home. But on the way, I passed the Red Cross office and decided to go in and donate blood. It was a madhouse, and for the first time I could see footage on the little t.v. in the waiting room. After way too long for my nerves, I was called in, but my blood pressure was so high by then that they wouldn't let me give blood after all. I headed home and in to the arms of my husband and sons. I got a phone call letting me know I had gotten the first job, at an insurance adjuster's office, and I would begin the next day, so I just had to put everything going on in my life in to little compartments in my head and learn a new job to support my family. I didn't really have time to process anything. No one in the family could fly to Grandpa's funeral, or even have flowers sent, due to the planes all being grounded. But I had a picture in my head of my Grandpa, bustling about in Heaven greeting all the new arrivals, the way he did at church, with a smile, a handshake, and a warm, friendly word.
Friday, July 18, 2008
Death, Where Is Your Victory?
"Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of His godly ones." (Psalms 116:15). I've been thinking about death a lot lately. Now that may sound morbid and not in keeping with the verse on my masthead, but hear me out and maybe you'll change your mind. I've observed a lot of people lately who knew their lives on this earth were severely numbered, and I've been impressed with the grace which we they lived their final days. None of them had a death wish. On the contrary, they had full lives with families they loved and wanted to stay with. But they also had faith, and that made all the difference. One man, Scott, used his final months to teach joyous Bible studies on heaven. When told how courageous he was, he disagreed. He was, he said, just semi-literate. He could read - he read the Bible and he chose to believe it. I thought about that a lot. I think he's right. When a fireman runs in to a burning building, or a soldier goes in to a war zone, that's courage. But if you told your child to get in the car and after a long, hot, tiring car ride he would arrive at Disney World, would he be courageous to get in the car? Our Heavenly Father is telling us, take my hand and I'll take you to Heaven! Taking a hold of His hand is not courage - it's Faith! Everything is different with faith.
"For me to live is Christ, and to die is gain." (Philippians 1:21) One woman finished her missions training still not sure where she was meant to go. She prayed and agonized over her decision. Then she was diagnosed with stage IV cancer - and she was amused that God had already chosen the hospital and then hospice as her mission grounds. Because when you have faith in God, you believe what He tells you and you put your trust in Him. You live for Him while you are here and you trust Him to lead you home to your reward.
Of course, death wasn't the original plan, but Jesus won the victory for us with His death, burial and resurrection. (1 Corinthians 15: 54b, 55...57) - "Death is swallowed up in victory. O Death, where is your victory? O Death, where is your sting?...but thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ. Perhaps you think it would be easier to believe if someone would come back from heaven and tell you about it? But Someone already has! His name is Jesus Christ. He came from heaven and He told us all about it when He lived among us in the flesh. When He left, He made a promise. "Let not your heart be troubled; believe in God, believe also in Me. In My Father's house are many dwelling places; if it were not so, I would have told you; for I go to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again, and receive you to Myself; that where I am, there you may be also...I am the way, and the truth, and the life; no one comes to the Father, but through Me." (John 14: 1-3; 6). Like Scott, and so many others before me, I choose to believe it. My prayer is to live for Him here and live forever with Him there.
Monday, March 31, 2008
Goodbye, Ruth
My husband's Aunt Ruth died Saturday in Hope Hospice. She came to live with us a year ago when her husband of 61 years passed away. She stayed five months until her care became more than we could provide. Then she went to reign as the Belle of the Nursing Home for another 8 months. She was a funny, sweet, feisty, generous lady and we were blessed to get to know her better. She loved Nascar racing, and thought Tony Stewart was wonderful! She worked at the telephone company all her life, but to her dismay, realized she no longer understood how to use the telephone. She loved music, flowers, getting her hair done, and eating anything sweet. We had to track her down to visit her at the nursing home. She was always off doing something fun, and when we did find her she was full of stories about winning at Bingo, ("I won a quarter! Big deal!" she'd grin), going out to eat, watching musical performances, attending church services and making new friends. ("There are such nice people here!" she'd tell me). Ruth was generous all her life and even at the home she was always trying to give her things away to the other residents or use her Bingo winnings to buy candy for the staff. She loved new experiences and refused to live in the past. "I won't worry," she told me frequently. "Worry causes wrinkles!"
When Ruth was going to go in the nursing home, she told me she hoped they would offer dancing lessons. Well, now she is in her permanent home - and I'll bet she's dancing!
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