Truth about Abortion

Thursday morning a small representation of the pro-life community in Bremerton got together to begin planning our spring 40 Days for Life campaign. We were a little nervous because, to put it mildly, our last campaign was a little discouraging. In fact, in terms of community participation, it was down right dismal. We saw several lives saved, but we also filled our vigil times only because some volunteers stood by themselves for five or six hours a day. That's discouraging, especially when we read that 71% of the American populace considers itself pro-life. So we pondered, should we try to stage a new campaign, and our answer was, how can we not.

Abortion is one of the greatest evils ever visited on humanity. War, famine, tyranny, dictatorships, torture, religious discrimination, domestic abuse -- they are all awful desecrations of the sacred image of God in both the victim and the perpetrator, but abortion gives the victim no choice and no chance to fight back. Ancient armies, when they conquered a nation, would rip the babies out of mothers' wombs to desecrate their enemies. We do it to ourselves and call it choice.

Abortion is a betrayal of the most simple and one of the most sacred relationships entrusted to us (the other sacred relationship being marriage): the process of giving and nurturing life. There is nothing more precious than the relationship between parent and child and the responsibility of the life-giver to the receiver, but abortion encourages us to actively toss it aside in the name of preserving some small, piddling thing misnamed freedom and more rightly called status quo for ourselves. It's not a new thing; it's been around since before Christ. It's not a progressive development. It's a sign of social decay.

So this year, on March 9, vigils will kick off around the country. People will gather outside abortion clinics and pray for the women going in to the clinics; for the doctors, nurses, and receptionists who work in the clinics; and most of all for the babies who were denied any opportunity at life. They will pray everytime a woman walks into the clinic in her pajamas and weep everytime she limps out. And I'm asking everyone I know to be one of these people. Even if you can't go to a clinic, sign up for the prayer reminders at www.40daysforlife.com and pray for the rapid end of abortion.

The video below illustrates some abortion statistics (and their sources) that you might not have known before. It was made by a woman I know and trust. There are no violent or obscene images in it. It will help you remember what you're praying for.



God bless us all.

This is Awesome.

I got this link in an email this weekend. It debuts an amazing symbolic mural of the resurrection of our Lord. Check it out.

http://downloads.cbn.com/cbnplayer/cbnPlayer.swf?s=/vod/MW131v2_WS

Getting in the spirit.

The children's church leader has given Boogaloo a part in this year's Christmas program. I know, I know, she's not even three, but she and her nursery friends go to children's church with all the other kids and learn the songs and do the crafts. So for the past three days, I've been hearing Christmas songs around the house, and I'm not the one singing them.

This video is of the song she knows best, "Wasn't it a mighty day?" The lyrics are a little garbled, but she gets every word in there, and she loves to belt it out just about anywhere.

It's beginning to look a lot like . . .

It's December, and we've broken out all the greenery. Boogaloo is just old enough to take interest in Christmas decorations, even though she's not really old enough to help me put them up. She says "Chirshmas Tee" wherever there is decorated greenery, and she is thoroughly fascinated by one tiny little carousel horse ornament from my childhood. But she leaves the lights alone. She's a smart girl.

The following pictures are mostly for Seth. I realize that most of the people who read my blog don't really care what my Christmas decorations look like, but I'd like Seth to have something to picture in his mind when he thinks of home. That book on the corner of the table is called Famous Friesians in America. For an ethnicity that no one's ever heard of, there have been a lot of famous Friesians.

In past years, we've hung the garlands from the walls, but this year I set myself the challenge of getting all the decorations up without putting any staples in our plaster, so the furniture got covered instead. I'm particularly proud of this little innovation -- neither staples nor tape. I felt vaguely Narnian while I was wrapping up the lamppost. I wonder if the Narnians decorated their lamppost in later years.

Due to the small size of our livingroom, we usually refrain from getting a Christmas tree, but this year we thought it was worth it. It's a tradition in my family to put white lights in the middle and colored lights on the outside to fully illuminate the tree. As you can see, it works pretty well. The tree lights up this whole half of the room.

I meant to post pictures of Annika playing in last month's snow, but Blogger says it can't right now, so rather that stay up till all hours, I'll leave that for another day.

Goodnight, all. God bless.

moment of weakness

I got home from Christmas shopping this afternoon, and a feeling settled on me. It was a tense feeling, a feeling that had something to do with the weather and something to do with the time of day. I could feel my shoulders hitching upwards and my breath coming a little shallower. I felt like I had to go and do something, but at the same time I didn't think it was something that could be done, and I couldn't figure out what it was.

Then it hit me. I wanted to watch Twilight. I really, really wanted to watch a Twilight movie.

I don't usually like to admit to being a Twilight fan. I mean, I really should know better. Twilight is not edifying fantasy; it's blatant escapism, and I was taught to believe that there's no excuse for that.

I remember reading an article by C.S. Lewis (or maybe it was Tolkein; I don't remember) justifying the appreciation of fantasy. He said that there are two kinds of escaping in fantasy literature. The healthy kind enables you to get out of the world for a minute and see it as it ought to be so you can reorient yourself and go back in. This kind of fantasy has epic conflict and great sacrifice. The other kind of fantasy is wish fulfillment, a thrilling kind of pie-in-the-sky imago-emotional morphine that makes you think "why don't I have that?", and Twilight is definitely of this latter kind. Not healthy. Plus it's written for junior high kids, and I'm nearly 30.

But I can't help it.

I'm not a blatant Twi-hard. I don't have any t-shirts that say "I kissed a vampire, and I liked it" or facebook flare that says "Real men sparkle." I've never been to Forks. I didn't see movies one or two in the theater, and I'm not sure I'm looking forward to movie four with great anticipation.

Still, there are moments or even days when I feel an almost overwhelming pressure to see something Twilightish, when I log onto the Internet and go hunting for a Twilight headline just to get that "hit of my drug supply" (if you're a twi-hard, you'll get that reference), when I open my kindle and upload one of the novels before sending it back to the archives unread. I guess that makes me a guilty twi-hard. Why not just give in and indulge, you say. Haven't you ever noticed that indulging some cravings only makes them stronger?

It seems like I always get "twilight" cravings when Seth works a long, long, long day or when he's getting ready to leave, and it just so happens that he's leaving soon. It probably doesn't help that "Eclipse" will be coming out on DVD next week, and the ads and headlines have been everywhere.
I especially liked the ad for Eclipse gum. Those are two franchises I would not have put together.

Mom says I should purge my brain with some good, wholesome fantasy like Narnia or Lord Of The Rings. Boogaloo loves Narnia, but I'm convinced LOTR would be too much for her. In fact, I haven't watched LOTR or Indiana Jones or Star Wars since she started taking an interest in movies.

That might be part of the problem. We've watched VeggieTales, Mary Poppins, Cars, and The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe so many times that Boogaloo and I can recite their dialogues together. It's been so long since I've watched a grown-up movie that when I think about the movies I'd like to watch, I slide all the way down the spectrum into guilty pleasure, even though the only way the Twilight films heretodate can qualify as an grown-up movies is the fact that I'm a grown-up and I want to watch them.

Another part of the problem might be that Seth's departures always make me feel like a petulant teenager who needs to be protected and consoled, and hey, misery loves company. Bella Swan could really be up there with Scarlet O'Hara as far as self-centered naratives are concerned, and sometimes it feels good to listen to her complain and watch her manipulate the people she should be listening to. (She doesn't listen. Have you noticed that? She never intends to change her mind. It's with the greatest reluctance that she acknowledges that someone else might have a point. She never lets herself be influenced by anyone!)

But that's exactly why I don't indulge myself very often. There are some thoughts that don't need reinforcement, however realistic or common to man they might be. The kind of friends you keep and the kind of books you read will affect the way you think. I have learned part of the secret to contentment, and it is keeping the imago-emotional morphine to a minimum.