We made it to church! It was good to be there and sing the old-fashioned hymns, as well as the newer choruses that are nearly verbatim from scripture. Love that. I held Mama’s hand when we prayed and we ate peppermint lifesavers.
It was also good to watch Mom’s face fill with light when she saw her friends and they hugged her and she became the center of attention. She came to life. For a while.
In 1984, President Ronald Reagan issued a proclamation designating the third Sunday of January as The Sanctity of Human Life Sunday. Churches around the United States use the day to celebrate God’s gift of life and commemorate the many lives lost to abortion. And commit themselves to protecting human life at every stage.
Since the landmark decision of Roe v. Wade in 1973, between 58-60 million babies have been aborted. It saddens me to to think of 45 year olds who could be enjoying life this day; being with family, celebrating a birthday, curing cancer…who knows.
The pastor said: “Whatever God is about is a sacred thing and God is about multiplying life.” He also said that abortion is a spiritual thing. Spot on. EVERYTHING is spiritual.
Driving home from church I was thinking about a day in 1993. I was working full-time as an administrative assistant at a large and thriving orthopedic surgery practice. The office was in Clifton on Auburn Avenue, directly across the street from Planned Parenthood. I vividly remember one late autumn day, protesters marching in front of the building, carrying signs. Though I am 100% pro-life, it did not sit well with me. In fact, I wrote about it in a journal that evening. That was pre-blog.
To understand this, you may need to give me grace. I was away from home 11 hours every day, working to put Mike through medical school. We, of course, already had our three precious boys. Life was challenging. Andrew got onto the school bus, then Christopher, then I dashed Noah to preschool and drove to work, fighting I-71 traffic every morning.
That day in 1993 when I looked across the street and saw women my age in their cute jeans and stylish boots and warm fall jackets proudly hoisting their signs like badges of honor, I felt anger. For starters, it made me angry because I was jealous that these women had the time and freedom to do their two hour stint of sign holding, while I was working hard to simply feed my boys. But for another reason it felt too easy for happily married thirty-somethings from Hyde Park to be “doing the right thing.” I remember writing that perhaps doing the right thing would have been to go inside and talk to one of those young women, take her out for coffee, help her care for the three other little ones at home. Make an effort to understand what some of those broken, confused women may have been going through.
It sickens me to think of sweet babies snuffed away forever. Two days ago I blogged about the new ruling in Switzerland, forbidding the unkindness to lobsters by putting them into boiling water. How that ridiculously pales in significance when we consider the unkindness shown to 60 million babies. God have mercy on us.
Mama and I did enjoy church. And I am reminded on this day, that a commitment to protect human life at every stage certainly includes my nearly 90 year old mother. Her life must be honored. All human life must be honored, whether or not they have a voice.