Friday, August 21, 2015

Planned Parenthood

They call it that ... but it seems to me they deal more in the accidental and the avoidance of responsibility. And true parenthood is responsibility - ask your parents. Carrying a tiny human for nine months and giving birth to them doesn't make you a parent. You don't have to kill anyone to avoid becoming a parent.

If you claim to be pro-life and are not angry about abortion, you might need to visit the Center for Medical Progress and view the videos. Because you can't stay on the fence.

Its been a while since I wrote about it, but the legality alone of abortion is horrifying to me. Kermit Gosnell is not the only baby killer - they're all baby killers. But Planned Parenthood has turned it into a business. They have gone beyond what those who think this is a way to stand up for women had in mind.

You can show me that pie chart claiming abortions are only 3% of your business all you want ... why are people who have BEEN INSIDE, and even been ON your side, saying that its a lie? Pretty graphs don't make what you're presenting a fact. Lies, damn lies, and statistics.

Heroes like Abby Johnson and Holly O'Donnell have made choices that may not win them any friends on either side of the fence ... but they aren't on the fence. They've been in the trenches and it made them cry out, opening themselves up to personal attack.

I don't care. That's right, flat out don't care if the videos were procured illegally. I'm sure you will sue the Center for Medical Progress and doubt that they are surprised. The light will shine in the dark places one way or another. I love the United States, so I pray it will be before our infinitely gracious and patient God unleashes a wrath the likes of which I doubt have ever been seen in history.

You may think we're above brutality such as human sacrifices by the Aztecs ... but we're matching annually what it is speculated they did in the lifetime of their culture.

Why, in every movie, does the older person sacrifice for the younger? You can say the Aztecs were more brutal because they killed walking, talking, breathing, "living" people ... but we haven't even given 60 million ... SIXTY MILLION PEOPLE ... a chance. There aren't sixty million people in even the largest city-propers in the world. Sixty million is roughly the population of the top 15 largest U.S. cities. FIFTEEN CITIES. LARGE CITIES. Annihilated. Unprotected. Eviscerated before ever even seeing a smile.

Yet in so many of the movies we love, the romantic notions we admire, it is those who have lived sacrificing themselves for those who have not. Women and children first is even to this day practiced in life boat drills.

No, Belle, listen to me! I'm old! I've lived my life!
My heart is broken and burning. Hot tears have trekked down my face with every video released. I don't want to watch them. I don't want to be exposed to the brutality of men; the frailty of our children. But these things are really happening and I don't want to be blind. They can't be brushed under the rug. It's insanity. If you aren't mad you need to get mad. Get off the fence. OFF. THE. FENCE. Why are you so comfortable there?

Towards the end of the most recent video released, Holly O'Donnell makes a harrowing statement. The first time I watched the video, as she spoke of imagining what these children would have been like if they had lived ... I watched my three year old coloring on the iPad. She had just gotten up, put a dress on, and come to my room and asked "I color?"

I can't get over what I was listening to at that very moment. These babies are not mistakes. YOU were not a mistake. Treating life as trash is a mistake. Denying the innocent the right to exist is a mistake. We need to stop repeating that mistake.

I remember holding that fetus in my hands, when everybody else was busy, and started crying and open the lid and put it back in. It’s just really hard knowing that you’re only person who’s every going to hold that baby. It’s weird, because I always think of all these scenarios that could happen, like what I held in my hands could have grown up to be –– and I always think about things like that, like this could be a lawyer, this could be a firefighter, this, this could be the next president. Like I wonder what, cause you can tell what sex sometimes, I wonder if I wonder at age three, if you know, she would like to color, or things like that. I wonder what it would look like, her mom or her dad? Things like that, I think it’s a waste of life. It’s sad that so many people view it like a mistake. It’s not. I mean, life isn’t a mistake. Getting pregnant –– it can be an accident, but it’s not a mistake.

She did become a three year old who likes to color.

Wednesday, August 12, 2015

Panic at the Library

One of the things I always pictured myself doing when I had children was taking them to the library. I'm a reader. I don't ever remember not being a reader. When I think of summer, I think of the days my mom would take us all the way in to Longview to go to the library. Seriously - all the way in to town. I remember watching the Velveteen Rabbit in the old library and I remember when they moved to a brand new fancy building. I remember spending those hot August days like today encamped in my room building up books to add to my summer reading program list. Sometimes I'd grab a snack and head  to a tree with branches that drooped just enough into the horse pasture behind us for me to climb up into a cosy fork. The lazy summer clouds would pass me by as I lost myself on Prince Edward Island with Anne of Green Gables.

So imagine my horror when I toted a few-months old Shelby to the local library only to be told they most certainly did not have a children's story time. In fact, that did most certainly not seem to encourage children's presence in the library at all. I was aghast! Don't all librarians want to bring up a new generation of readers? It would appear I had been hoodwinked as here before me were two who didn't care one iota if any children learned to love books as long as their realm remained unchanged. Silent. Clean. Orderly. Stagnant. Sterile.

Last year all that changed. I don't know exactly what happened and it really doesn't matter, but we were blessed with a changing of the guard. Now every Wednesday a growing group of children show up at the Cameron Public Library for story time with two ladies who love them, and love books. New children's books are flooding the shelves. Decade long gaps on those little "due date" stamp cards are filling up with fresh ink. A few weeks ago Shelby was crying because the book she wanted was already claimed and I got to teach her about reserving a book so that she could have it next.

Today we left story time (and an impromptu meeting of homeschooling moms and grandmother) with her Disney Princess book under one arm and a Three Little Pigs craft in momma's purse. I had started strapping the girls into their seats, but even with the reflective sun-shade up it was stifling in our car. Reaching between the front seats, I started the car and cranked the AC up to full blast. Shelby was asking for music, so I plugged my phone in and turned the bluetooth on.

Now our car, a 1994 Toyota Land Cruiser, does some things that were quite innovative at the time it was new. You cannot lock the doors with the keys in the ignition. However, if you start the car with all the doors closed, it automatically locks them.

I'm pretty sure the door next to Victoria's seat was open. So I'm not sure why what happened next happened, but clearly it did. I finished getting the girls strapped in and exited the vehicle. Clearly the door must have been unlocked or ajar for me to do that. As usual, I closed the door and grabbed the handle of the driver's door.

And pulled. And pulled. And yanked. Jerked. Stared, stupefied. What was going on here? I tried the door I had just come out of, but it was locked too. Something welled up in my chest as my adrenal glands sighed into my bloodstream. I may or may not have been running as I checked all the doors, in vain. It is mid-August, in Texas. My two beautiful children are locked in the car. In the sun. With the keys inside. With my phone inside.

Chills ran down my spine and bile climbed my throat as fresh adrenaline coursed through me now that danger was doubtless. Mother bear raised the hairs on the back of my neck as I ran through ideas of Things That Would Break A Window. Now we know that, in a panic, I don't lose my mind. The sensible side of me (yes, there is one!) talked down the bear. We are at the library. They have a phone. The car is running, the AC is on. Your daughters, climbers and key-turners though they may be, are safely restrained.

They couldn't see me fly to the door because the sun shade was still up. My face must have reflected my terror because everyone seemed to look up as I opened the library door. I didn't even need to interrupt anyone to request that "whoever you call when you've locked the children in the car" be called. A couple of the other mothers came out to stand with me and chat as we waited. Periodically I looked in at the kiddos and Shelby told me "drive momma." They had no idea.

As my friends reassured me that I am no a bad mother, a police cruiser and a wrecker pulled up. Too relieved to be embarrassed, I watched them work. They never even asked my name or how it had happened. It felt like it took longer for them to break into a 21 year old vehicle than I would have expected, but soon the window was down and the car was unlocked, and Shelby was asking to "go out to eat."

Once upon a time I'm sure I wondered how parents "let" things like this happen. It is easier than you think. Thank you to my friends, Cameron Police Department, and C&W Automotive for making a "bad mommy moment" into a thankful memory full of praise to God that it wasn't serious. I barely even got to thank them ... no questions asked, no exchange of information or money.

Keep calm, ask for help, withhold judgement, and count those blessings - in a moment you could find that you had more than you realized!