If you have ever walked into an abortion clinic... then you know.

Today I got a text.

She's going to have an abortion tomorrow.

Pro Life?
Don't get all condemning here.
Pro Choice?
Don't get all defensive.

It really shouldn't matter what we think. 
It doesn't matter what your philosophy is or your conviction is. This is a big deal.
Anyone that says abortion is a benign thing ... you're lying to yourself.
Any woman that doesn't see this is a massive decision? A life-altering decision?
...
Huge.

She's pregnant. She's scared. 
She's young. She's been living on her own since high school.
She's barely out of high school.
This isn't in her plan. And she has some really good life plans. 
She's been dealt some hard stuff since she was little. In fact, she survived abortion herself. Her mom changed her mind in the clinic, years and years ago. Her mom said yes to her life. Here she stands ... very independent. Very hard working. 
A good friend to so many, a good daughter with a dad who loves her. A great sister. A good student and this is in front of her.

Some of us, we can get all pious in our knowing. Or maybe you don't feel pious, but strong, passionate convictions .... the gentle heart beat of a little one in utero. It can create a visceral response, whatever the response is.

I have embraced motherhood. I knew I would be a mom, somehow.
It didn't scare me. That positive pregnancy test. It only brought joy.... and a little bit of fear.
But I embraced it.

My sweet friend. Not so much.
She's terrified.

The only part of this, right now, where I sit, the one thing that pisses me off is the lie she's been given her whole life. Maybe not directly to her. But a society that has taken on a god-complex. 
We've given our selves license to decide life or death stuff. 
We've given ourselves license to judge others, only by what we see.

Of course abortion is her option. For her. Where she stands. What she's been told. 

Tonight, maybe tomorrow before she goes in, maybe she'll say yes to sitting down again with me. Maybe she'll continue to be open to our friendship and know that I care for her. I care for her enough to tell her the risks. To tell her the realities of what abortion is and does. Medically. Physically. To give her options. Beautiful, beautiful redeeming options.

Maybe she'll hear me when I tell her about the emotional repercussions this will have. 
It will have on her.

Asking God to give me the words. Asking God to speak the words to her heart. To a heart that I've seen has been softened towards Him. A heart that is curious about learning about a God who loves, unconditionally.

And... if you've ever walked into a clinic. 
If you've already made this choice ... if this is part of your story

You know. 
This is no trip to the dentist.
This is definitely not a benign operation.

If you are reading this and you understand abortion, intimately
If you have personally experienced it.
If you have personally participated in it.
If you find yourself living in others-inflicted shame

Please hear me... you are loved.

If you feel ridiculed and judged,
If you have felt the weight of condemnation by a bunch of sometimes-well-meaning-sometimes-not pro-life people,
If you have been afraid to tell your story, talk about your past, been devastated by pointing fingers and accusatory words,

I am sorry!

I am so sorry for not speaking up for you - the wounded, scared, abandoned - you know who you are and I for one, want you to know,
You are loved!

I'm not speaking this out of direct experience, I'm not pretending to relate to your sometimes agonizing choices, your anger or your sorrow.
I've never had an abortion.

Yet, I'm afraid to say,
if I had become pregnant at 15 or 16, I'm not sure, then, what I would have chosen. Being pregnant, a teenager who wasn't married. That was just not allowed. 

Pregnant girls were often sent away.
Having a pregnant daughter who wasn't married was one of the scariest, shame-filled things for a "good Christian family."

That is why this happened, I'm afraid.

Before I knew it I found myself driving my sweet friend to the clinic. I didn’t know what it meant. Astonishing, but I really didn’t. I had said no to God long enough before that I couldn’t even hear His voice anymore. Telling me to stop. Turn around. Save this little life. She was my friend and she was pregnant. She asked for a ride. She wasn’t pregnant anymore. And that was that ... 

I played a part. 
Call it ignorance. Call it convenience or immaturity or fear.
In rejecting the voice of the One who never rejected me, I let my friend down. I will forever regret that. Forever mourn the loss, on so many levels.

I'm not writing this to berate a system or condemn well-meaning people. I'm not calling the Church or Christians to task (or maybe I am). 
I do know that God is so patient. Astoundingly patient in my life.

And deep in my soul I do believe in the sanctity of each precious life.
I believe with my whole being that each life is purposed, planned (by God).

He's a God of the fatherless and motherless and rejected.

But I do believe we are playing with fire when we play God. 

Oh I love my darling, scared friend... so much.
And I've never met a baby I don't love.

I'm holding my breath ...

The Beautiful...yet abandoned Children of Romania...Part 2

Babies, mattresses, wet diapers and sorrow

See Children of Romania...Part 1

It was the early 90's and my husband and I had traveled to Romania. We showed up one morning at an orphanage in the city of Bucharest.
Sadly, Romania is infamous for its orphanages and its orphaned children
There is history there
    there was a dictator who brutalized the country
      which led to a persecuted people and a broken society
Ultimately leading to abandoned children and babies…. many babies and many orphanages

We walked in that day to a very sterile environment.
How do you prepare for this? You don't. You walk in.
No noise or beautiful chaos like you might assume any house full of children to be
     Instead, picture an orphanage straight out of a Dicken's novel
           that's more like it
And then, if it's even possible, oh so much more sad

Cribs lining the wall
Beautiful, over-worked, overwhelmed Romanian women caring for these little ones
Eerily quiet, not because there were not babies in the cribs.
No ma'am
Those cribs were full,
     but the air was empty
So little sound, void of baby chatter
Not even a healthy cry for attention
A few slight whimpers of surrender
The creaking of a crib that is moving … moving as they rock … themselves. That universal sign of mental and emotional depravity. Learned at an impossibly young age. When others have abandoned their job to care for another, the abandoned one learns to self-soothe.

Walking through this nursery, big eyes just looked out at us. Looking like little birds that were trapped, really. Not even hopeful. What child in my world doesn't assume they will be picked up, cuddled, kissed or cared for? These ones evidently couldn't even grasp it. Because then it happened. I watched my husband Norb reach out to touch one little baby boy, because isn't that what you do?
         you reach
         you touch
         you hug
Babies need that. WE need that. In order to survive.
The only problem is when humans are not touched enough.
That sweet baby boy. He cringed. He pulled away... shaking.
Slowly, after some patience and persistence, he allowed a soothing hand to rub his back. To touch his little body.
How many were in their beds, rocking back and forth? No one there to soothe so they must soothe themselves...

Along the corridor we walked, on in to the toddler area.
Cloth diapers only got changed at assigned times each day because there weren't enough diapers, or enough hands to do the changing.
Bottle time - same amount for every child no matter the size, and definitely no more.

There behind a wall of windows was a mattress-covered floor.
The pre-walking, toddling babies in just a cloth diaper, holding a bottle, gripping it in order to get the last drop. I don't remember how many were lying on those uncovered, soiled mattresses. Definitely more than a dozen... 20? I don't remember. I do remember the smell, and the sight, because when there are babies and diapers there is always soiling and mess.  When there aren't resources or money or people to do the work, the mess stays that way.

It didn't take long for Norb to open that door to the mattress room. Down on all fours he just lay there while this "litter" of little ones crawled over him -vying for his attention. Smiles on their faces. Touching his face. Being loved with a touch and a hug and smile...while he wept
Norb wept with these little ones, for these little ones.
It was beautiful,
It was terrible
It was horrendous
and it was truly a holy moment.

I'm writing this down and I'm just not sure why I'm telling you this.
It's not like we did anything about it.
There I said it.
We cried, we mourned, we wept for the abandoned and the neglected, but at that moment, we did nothing more.
I'm sitting here crying again, mourning once more. Willing that our time spent, prayers said, touch and smile impacted little hearts and little minds in some way... If I could only wish it to be so.

I'm writing this out to try and figure out what's next. To make sure I remember and then do...something.

...to be continued

This is gonna be a good year because ...

I have a grandaughter (-sigh-)

Holding that sweet little one is like a spa day 
                            beach day
                                    vacation day
                   coffee and cake day all rolled in to one. 

She is sweet, delicious, soft, fragile, and precious! 
Her little knees…
    ooohhh how I love baby’s little knees 
                             and their little “laps” 
Have you ever just looked at a little one's lap? Priceless!

When she stretches, 
               arching backwards with her hands clenched tight and her face all smooshed 
I just want to kiss her face and hold her tight and drink her up.
It’s like a vitamin for the soul, 
                 the best blood pressure medicine you could ever be prescribed. 
Better than a puppy, 
   or a kitten,
   or a walk on the beach when the sun is setting and the temperature is perfect. 
Better than a ride on a motorcycle through winding country roads. 
Better than coffee, hot and steamy and perfectly brewed with freshly roasted beans. 
Better than a huge slice of chocolate cake, home-made, butter cream frosting, most and chocolatey. 
Better than the first slice of coffee bread, warm out of the oven with butter on top. 

This is gonna be a good year!!