Reprint from 2015 as I think of the next election: Graphic. During a visit on a Sunday afternoon, I mentioned third-trimester abortion--not necessarily a nice subject to discuss with your parents. But I recently read about the process. Horrified, I mentioned it. Then, I described the procedure.
My mother turned white. Not pale. White. She gripped the sides of her chair and repeated, “No. No. No.”
Shocked, my father and I considered calling 911.
We thought it couldn't get worse, but now the nation watches a video of someone butchering aborted babies for their parts as they call it "fun".
Then we go back to sleep and continue to pay those people with government money to have their fun. The governors who refuse to pay Planned Parenthood will get my votes. Sadly, many feel coerced into changing that decision.
What could I say to my mother. “They don’t do them often.” What an unsatisfactory answer. Once in history rates as once too often. I felt like Peter when he offered to build a hut for Jesus, Moses, and Elijah. “(He did not know what he was saying).“
Though I knew the evil of abortion, I still spoke calmly about it. Someone who heard it for the first time mirrored the depth of the atrocity.
I often think people exaggerate when they talk about “the good old days.” They accepted prejudice as part of life. Terrible injustices happened to people only because of skin color.
Our treatment of young men who fought in Vietnam stained our history. Today when a military person boards a plane, someone may offer his or her seat in first class. During the Vietnam war, the uniform only brought abuse. Soldiers removed their uniform jackets before boarding a plane. None of them asked to go. They obeyed the law. In college, the teacher cancelled a final so students might protest.
But abortion and honoring perversion never occurred to those living in the good old days. It wasn’t a thing that could happen. How do you kill your babies and call it “choice,” call your baby “matter,” talk about that killing as though it's only politics?
And after all these years, we watch racial strife increase.
My only answer?
Please pray. And vote.
What do you think?
Painting, "Portrait of the artist's mother," Picasso, pre-cubism
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Patricia Annalee Kirk