The issue of abortion is no doubt, an explosive one at best. However, I would like to have honest, open, courteous but forthright dialogue regarding it.
I hope that you will take to heart what I have to say regardless of your stance on the issue. Should you be Pro-Life, let this encourage and strengthen that conviction. Should you be Pro-Choice, let what I'm about to share with you, be reason enough for you to reconsider.
Respectfully, I say to you - life in every form is valid and precious.
With that, let me tell you my story.
I was born to a single, teen mom on August 11, 1970. My mother was only 17 years old when she gave birth to me. She had been dating my father for a few years off and on which resulted in their relationship becoming more intimate.
My mother has since passed on as of 2006, from cancer but I can still recall her telling me about what she went through, as if it were yesterday.
Unfortunately, my mother grew up in a single parent home. Her mother was an alcoholic. On a regular basis my mother would have to bring home my grandmother from the bar and get her into bed. My grandmother was extremely abusive both verbally and physically and made it known that no 'squawking brats' were coming into her house if she had anything to say about it. It was the 'love-child' era and conversation about teen motherhood was a frequent topic in the household.
Needless to say, when my mother told her that she was pregnant, it was all out war. The physical confrontation that transpired sounded like something out of a movie. But no, this wasn't a movie. It was my mother's life. The pregnancy was just another excuse for my grandmother to unload her wrath. She herself was rejected by her father and ignored by her mother. The curse seems to have continued on down to my mother who also had no relationship with her father.
As predicted, my grandmother went into a rage. She charged at my mother, punching her in the stomach and kicking her down to the floor. As she tried to get up and run, my grandmother pushed her over a rocking chair which flipped backward putting my mother back on the floor. Struggling to get away, she literally crawled out of the house on her hands and knees.
After getting her breath back, she ran to my father's house and stayed with him for a few days.
Upon my mother's return home, my grandmother told her that she was not going to allow my mother to have the baby (me). My grandmother deemed me unfit to live. Little did she know, God would see otherwise.
Obviously, my mother was scared and didn't know what to do. She knew that she wanted to keep me but she wasn't willing to engage in another physical altercation. She felt if she did, it could cause her to miscarry.
Reluctantly, she obeyed my grandmother, went into the bathroom and was told to get into a tub full of hot water and some kind of 'mustard seed' mixture. Apparently, back then, it was said that a mustard seed bath would bring on a miscarriage. I've done some research on this and haven't found any conclusive proof that this really works. If anyone has any insight on this, I would gladly receive it.
In my estimation, it wasn't the hot mustard seed bath that was the potential killer. It was the beatings my mother took for her indiscretion.
My grandmother finally came to the conclusion that she was not going to be able to expel me from the womb. I believe it was more than that. I believe it was the hand of the Almighty, Himself. He is the Creator and He decides who lives and dies. Although there are times when men die at the hands of other men, there are also mysterious times when the hand of God intercedes. This was one of those times.
To both my parents great joy, I was born - happy, healthy, content and ready for life. My mother said I was the best baby, ever. Of course I was! (Joking)!
I was destined to come to this earth, come heck or high water. Incidentally, my parents didn't use any contraceptives because my father was told he could not have children. He had juvenile diabetes which affected his sperm count. Well, all I have to say is, SURPRISE!
When I was born, somehow my grandmother forgot how much she hated me and absolutely adored me. She would take me often over night and spend a lot of time with me.
Strangely enough, my grandmother ended up dying on my 4th birthday. I'm not willing enough to say this was an act of justice on God's behalf regarding my life. But it sure has made me think over the years. I don't ever remember my mother telling me that my grandmother apologized for all she put my mother through. I just don't know. I will leave that to the Divine Judge to comment on.
Just recently I was reading the parable in the Bible about 'mustard seed faith' - It says this in Matthew 13:31-32 -
31 Another parable put he forth unto them, saying, The kingdom of heaven is like to a grain of mustard seed, which a man took, and sowed in his field:
32 Which indeed is the least of all seeds: but when it is grown, it is the greatest among herbs, and becometh a tree, so that the birds of the air come and lodge in the branches thereof.
Indeed, I'm the smallest in my family but have experienced the greatest amount of faith inspired blessings. That which my grandmother tried to destroy me with, became my strongest asset. Mustard Bath to Mustard Seed Faith. Only God could have brought something so beautiful out something so potentially destructive.
My mother shared with me another experience she had shortly after I was born. She was diagnosed with Epilepsy and was susceptible to what's called, Grand Mal Seizures. One day, when she was home alone, she had me in her arms when she heard a voice talk to her out loud. The voice said to her, "put the baby down." It startled her and she froze up for a minute. The voice once again, but more urgently this time said, "put the baby down!" She listened and put me down. Next thing she knew she woke up in the hospital. She apparently put me down and then fell into a Grand Mal Seizure.
Just for the record, my mother was NOT a religious person by any stretch of the imagination. She held the utmost contempt for the Catholic church and despised her Catholic upbringing. The Catholic church at that time regarded me as a 'bastard child' and would not baptize me. (These were the words of the family priest).
May it also be known that I in no way have any hard feelings toward the Catholic church or my grandmother. I have truly forgiven them both.
So you see - every life has value and meaning. I'm so incredibly thankful to be alive. I myself have two beautiful children that I love deeply, who would not be here today without me.
There are so many things in this life that I've been blessed and privileged to be a part of. They are innumerable. I've saved people's lives a few times, I've been a shoulder to cry on for some, I've been the stand in parent to others. If I was not here, I would not have been able to contribute to the protection and blessing of others.
Just a small insert here about the rape issue - I'm very sensitive to those who have endured this. My mother also was raped and she shared with me, vividly, what transpired when she was only 14. To that I would say, don't punish the innocent life for the crime of the father. If you could at all find it in your heart to bring that child into the world, you would no doubt find a couple who would be overjoyed at the prospect of having that child. That's if you yourself felt that you could not raise the child. Let love beget love. Don't let hate beget hate.
To conclude, I would just ask you, the next time you think about abortion and ending an innocent life, think about my life and what it stands for.
Daily, the world is overcome with one crisis after another. Who knows whether or not we've aborted a Nelson Mandela, a George Washington, Abraham Lincoln, Martin Luther King Jr. - We could very well have aborted people who had the answers to our prayers.
What if Mary had aborted Jesus? Would mankind even be here? His sacrifice made it possible for life to continue. Man was under a curse of which Jesus, with his blood and body, lifted from us. I realize there are those who will read this and have absolutely no spiritual conviction about such things. I guess I would just ask you to consider it in theory. The truth of it still stands.
Everybody counts. Yes, everybody.
God bless you and thank you for taking the time to read this. I hope it goes deeply into the recesses of your heart and brings forth love. Love for Life.
L'Chaim! (To Life!)
