No Thank You Very Much!

mother and child hands

You do not want a soul tie to anyone who thinks the brutal demolition of a full-term baby is “reproductive health”.  Period.

In all elections, in all issues, take the life stance.  Take a stand for life.  If someone wants your support for a position on your podunk library board, find out where they stand – life or death, blessing or cursing.  They may run for mayor next, and then for state rep, and perhaps one day be your governor.  It is not hate to have the courage to stand against those who will call you a hater for choosing to choose life.  Life.  If we don’t stand for life, we are bowing to death.

Educate yourself and you will find unborn babies have beating hearts, they feel the pain of their bodies being mutilated, and they are unique in all the earth, as are we all. As the Word of God says, we’re knit together in our mother’s wombs, fearfully and wonderfully made.

The pro-life view is not the view of hate.  What could possibly be more filled with hate, more hateful, than the murder of a baby?  And yet, as in all things Satanic, there is the confusion of people calling those of us who disagree with their positions “haters.”

I, for one, am a lover.   I love my aborted friends, and bleed for them as they struggle with their bone-deep regrets.  I love the children we’ll never know, and their fathers and grandfathers.  And I love those souls, so many of them Christians, who don’t want to see Roe v. Wade overturned.

I also love inconvenience, financial struggles, embarrassment, and having my plans messed with.  Inconvenience means I’m going to sweat a bit, which is good for me.  So, if a pregnancy is inconvenient, hooray!  Financial struggles always bring out the fight in me, and cause me to get smart and creative, another hooray!  Pride is the root of embarrassment, so anything that roots that out is a good thing.  And having my little plans messed with – oh, that is such a grand thing!

Yes, we’re talking about unplanned pregnancies.  I think it’s a good bet that I was “unplanned” by my parents, but God has a different view of me.  I’m sure I was a financial burden, and at times very inconvenient.  So, out of these four reasons people often cite as a justification for killing their baby (inconvenient, too expensive, embarrassing to the family, unplanned), I scored three out of four on arguments FOR abortion.

And then there’s that STUPID “health of the mother” argument.  I was once told I would die if I didn’t abort.  Well, I’m still here, as is my lovely daughter.  As I told the doctor.  “If I die, I die, there will be no abortion.”  He screamed at me, I found another doctor.  But back to the argument:  there is nothing on earth more unhealthy for a mother than destroying her child.

And what could be more unhealthy for a society than the belief that life doesn’t matter?  The ramifications of abortion are beyond measure.  I will never forget having to answer our kids’ question, “Mom, what’s abortion?”  And as I struggled to answer it, watching the horror and the disbelief on their young faces, I thought of the busybody home schooling opponents in our lives.  “You’re overprotective.  Your kids won’t be properly socialized.”  Blah, blah, blah.  In a world where children are ripped from the wombs of the one created to nurture and love them all the days of their lives, there is no way to fully protect a child’s heart.  The best I could do was to assure them that this was the ultimate example of the evil of the enemy of their souls, and lead them in prayer that one day, we would again be a nation under the love and blessing of God, rather than under the curse of abortion.

How are we different from societies who threw their children into volcanoes to appease angry gods?  They at least thought of it as a sacrifice.  We abort because we do not value God’s ultimate gift, the greatest showing of His creative power and grace:  a child.

Let us no longer look to the opinions of liars and fools, deceived to deceive.  Let us look to Jesus, the one who made us free.  Free to choose love, liberty, and life..

Vote life.  Period.

 

“I came that you might have (and choose) life.” – Jesus, in John 10:10

praying baby
          Rejoice, highly favored one, the Lord is with you; blessed are you among women.”  I believe that Mary was much more than we know, that she is a model, a pattern for emulating, and that in his hatred for her, Satan has twisted and snapped the threads of that life pattern for a tapestry of rhythm and grace.  He turns what God intends for life, into death.
          That is how I see abortion – the ultimate success for the ultimate woman hater.  We are endowed with the ability to create the ultimate masterpiece – a child.  We partner, as did Mary, with God, to make sons and daughters who can bring light to the darkness, beauty for ashes, healing for the broken. 
          My brokenness began with buying Satan’s lie that casual sex (no mating for life marriage commitment) is OK.  I had that unplanned pregnancy, the one where abortion was suggested.  I can only thank God and my heritage – not that of a Christian upbringing (which I didn’t have) but that of parents who loved me unconditionally, and who taught by example the preciousness of a child – for the existence of that child in the world today.  How glad I am that Mom and Dad were too unworldly, too “unsophisticated”, to buy the lie from Hell that children are expendable, that abortion is a solution to anything at all, ever.
          And so I sit in the middle of the night, pondering the angel’s words in Luke 1:28.  I do rejoice in the face of temporal stresses, heartaches, things not as I want them to be, children partaking of my past brokenness.  And yet, there is no denying it:  I am highly favored.  God has given me children, and He has shown my volatile and wayward heart over and over and over that He is with me.  I am blessed among women.
          And  therein lies the sadness.  There are too few women walking in my shoes.  I look around me, especially at church, and I want to wear a sign:  GOD DID THIS AND HE’LL DO IT FOR YOU, TOO!!!!  Years ago I looked around as a single mother, bereft of that ever-so-essential ingredient in a family – Daddy.  I looked at the women in church, the married ones, and wanted to know two things:  Is it real, and if it is, is it forever beyond my reach?
          The day finally came when I had the courage to believe, to trust, to call (loudly) on God.  “Lord,” I said, “I need a husband.  I don’t care if he’s tall or short, fat or skinny. I don’t care where he’s from or what he does for a living.  I just want a good, honest man who will love me like I am.”
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          Two weeks later, after a nine-year drought, God sent John.  John the Blessing, John the Family Man.  John who knew the value of a child.  John who God knew would heal my brokenness through the very love of Christ Himself abiding in John’s heart and being passed on to mine. 
          And John who would partner with God and with me to make a family, the most beautiful thing of all. Our children weren’t planned or affordable or convenient.  They were and are simply the greatest of all blessings, the highest of all honors and privileges, the gifts beyond all gifts. 
          And that, Dear Reader, is what you and I are to God.
          Rejoice, highly favored one.

Just Say No to (Prescription) Drugs and to Curses, too!

The very last thing you need is a socially acceptable drug pusher/curse giver.

I had my first experience with drugs delivering my first child, Vann.  It was Demerol and it was terrifying in a situation where I was already in an abyss of fear.

Next came a double dose (I supposedly had “displaced nerves”) of that crud they put in my spine with Jane’s birth.  My doctor actually tried to talk me out of it, saying, “You’re almost there.  You can do this.”  I have fond memories of him, if not of the effects of those horrible nightmare-inducing drugs.

I had a marvelous Christian doctor with Benjamin, who respected the human body, and the birth was a wonderful experience.  The doctor had nurses trained in midwifery, there were no IV’s, nothing disrespecting to the body and emotions of a woman at the most vulnerable time of her life.  This doctor was a former abortionist, who had become a Christian and was on a mission to save as many babies as possible.  He delivered three other babies that night and at other hospitals, thereby missing Benjamin’s birth by three minutes.  He cried.  We rejoiced.

But then the fun was over.  I was told to abort Hannah, that I wouldn’t survive the pregnancy.  When I refused to abort the doctor yelled, “You don’t understand!”  “No,” I said.  “YOU don’t understand.” See www.thewarmjournal.com for how that turned out and rest assured I changed doctors.

When Hannah was born, a healthy 8-plus pounds, she was taken immediately to ICU (due to medical error).  After two days I was told I had to go home and leave her there for at least two weeks.   I called everyone I knew who would pray in faith and I said, “NO!”

baby hand

If I had to sit on the hospital lawn, and come inside every time they poked and prodded her, to hold her and nurse her and rock her back to sleep, that’s what I would do.  These people caused her problems (36 units of Pitocin and me so many long hours without food because the doctor on call was determined Hannah would be born on her watch, causing not only respiratory issues, but blood sugar as well) and they sure weren’t going to be left alone with her for two weeks.

The morning following my order to exit, I walked into ICU to see the neonatologist and his assistants covered in lead vests, standing over the naked and unprotected chest of my child as they x-rayed her and she screamed in terror.  Before I could protest (what else could they possibly think of to do to her – her entire heels were massive scabs from the incessant prodding with needles, there were needles in her head and pads on her chest) the neonatologist said, “It’s a miracle.  Her lungs are completely clear.  She can go home, but she’ll have to be on oxygen at least two weeks.”  Wrong again.  The nurse who came to our home daily to monitor Hannah, announced after three days that there was really no need for her to be on oxygen.

Hannah wouldn’t have anything to do with anyone but me for eleven months, but other than that, there have been no ill effects.  I prayed with a vengeance that not only would Hannah be a healthy child, but that she would be the healthiest of all my children.  And she is and has always been.  If the others caught a bug, she would skip it, or have only the slightest of symptoms.  She is strong and energetic and a picture of health.  So, too, is her little sister Rebekah.

I was told I would never conceive again, with that ever present attitude of, “You’re not Mormon or Catholic, so why are you having all these kids?”  Well, let’s not go there.  Along came Rebekah. I was told I couldn’t carry Rebekah, that I would miscarry.  When that didn’t happen I was told I would not be able to have a natural birth with her.  Wrong again.

After still more abuses at the hands of physicians with Seth’s birth (let me say here that I always had the best of nurses) I was finished with the world’s way of “healing” and went with God’s.

If you have had enough of the “cut and drug” medical world, try Jesus.  Get in the Word of God and see what it says.  You’ll find the One who created you can also heal you.  You’ll find that plants are to be our medicines.  And if you’re unfortunate enough to belong to a denomination teaching that “healing and miracles have passed away” just pray for them and keep on reading what your Maker says.  He is, believe it or not, smarter than many “interpreters” of what He says.

P.S.  I haven’t been to see an establishment medical doctor since I left the hospital at Seth’s birth, over 16 years ago, and I get healthier every day.

P.P.S.  And I sure as heck am no user of drugs, be they legal or otherwise.  Or as they used to say where I grew up, “I aint no doper.”