FireQuill Publications
The
Short Stories, Plays and Bible Studies of Kathy Kearney
The
Short Stories, Plays and Bible Studies of Kathy Kearney
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Just A Grandmother
Editors Note: The following article first appeared in April 1996 issue of the Orange County, California Register.
I am a grandmother. My "grandmother criteria"? Well, I have white hair, rosy cheeks, wear glasses, bake a mean cookie, and seem to have misplaced my waistline (love those mean cookies!). And, most importantly, I have three grandchildren.
Recently President Clinton vetoed the Partial-Birth Abortion Ban (HR1833) after much "thinking and praying".
How odd that a man would have to think and pray about a decision that was never his to make. When God says in Psalm 127:3, "Behold, children are a gift from the Lord; the fruit of the womb is a reward." And when He repeats in other verses too numerous to cite here that He is the creator of life, how then can a man, a woman, a society, a government declare that He doesn't know what He's talking about?
I also have a problem with the words "constitutional right" and "abortion" in the same sentence. When did abortion become a constitutional right? When did the American people vote for it? How did it supersede and erase the constitutional right to life and its protection penned by our founding fathers?
How can pro-choicers fly in the face of life's sanctity by condoning the taking of that God-designed life under such a bedraggled banner of flimsy excuses? "I am not ready to be a parent." (Who is?) "I have enough children already." (Show me a parent who hasn't had a day when one child was too many.) "I'm not married." (Why didn't you say that before you got pregnant?)
And finally, the supposedly compelling reason for allowing partial-birth abortions: "It's placing my life in danger."
In the seventh month of my second pregnancy I cropped up
with a nasty little number called Hodgkin's Disease. Both our baby daughter and I survived the five-hour surgery. "No more kids," advised our O.B. as he bundled me off to a hematologist for chemotherapy. I guess our third baby didn't hear too well, because she made her appearance practically on the heels of her sister's.
Under the partial-birth abortion, both our daughters could have been aborted for medical reasons. My third pregnancy called a halt to all chemotherapy. Yes, I could have died, but I had I sacrificed my child's life for my own, life would have become a blighted trek. Each breath I drew would remind me that I had stopped hers, each morning would be a haunting indictment that she never would behold the light of any day, and every expression of joy would hesitate at the edge of my heart, knowing I would never hear her sweet chuckle, or see her dimpled chubby hands reach for life.
Where did all that protectiveness come from? From God; where else? Part of being made in His image is the wish to procreate, project, and protect life.
Did we give our children perfect lives? Define perfect. We gave them all we had to offer of love, provision, and values. We taught them that life isn't always fair, but that God and His principles are constant. We taught them that for every action there is a consequence, for every choice there is a payment debited or credited. There was never day that we didn't read the Bible and pray together.
We never had much money. We owned our own business--you know, one of those non-profit ventures where you show up early, leave last, and your help gets paid before you. Our son became a whiz-bang at keeping our 10 year-old machinery masquerading as cars running. The kids worked with us, sometimes they got paid, most times they didn't--unless you count the roof over their heads and the food on their plates. But the house was filled with love, and a peace that didn't come off a satellite dish or out of a VCR. Today they are happy, lead productive lives, and are initiating their parents into the joys of grandparenting.
Abortion is a liar and a thief. It steals the mother's spiritual and emotional life along with the baby's physical life. While my heart aches for the little ones, I know they are with God. But how the great heart of God must break for the mothers who have been taken in by abortion's lie. How they have been cheated.
But then, what do I know? I'm just a grandmother.
Recently President Clinton vetoed the Partial-Birth Abortion Ban (HR1833) after much "thinking and praying".
How odd that a man would have to think and pray about a decision that was never his to make. When God says in Psalm 127:3, "Behold, children are a gift from the Lord; the fruit of the womb is a reward." And when He repeats in other verses too numerous to cite here that He is the creator of life, how then can a man, a woman, a society, a government declare that He doesn't know what He's talking about?
I also have a problem with the words "constitutional right" and "abortion" in the same sentence. When did abortion become a constitutional right? When did the American people vote for it? How did it supersede and erase the constitutional right to life and its protection penned by our founding fathers?
How can pro-choicers fly in the face of life's sanctity by condoning the taking of that God-designed life under such a bedraggled banner of flimsy excuses? "I am not ready to be a parent." (Who is?) "I have enough children already." (Show me a parent who hasn't had a day when one child was too many.) "I'm not married." (Why didn't you say that before you got pregnant?)
And finally, the supposedly compelling reason for allowing partial-birth abortions: "It's placing my life in danger."
In the seventh month of my second pregnancy I cropped up
with a nasty little number called Hodgkin's Disease. Both our baby daughter and I survived the five-hour surgery. "No more kids," advised our O.B. as he bundled me off to a hematologist for chemotherapy. I guess our third baby didn't hear too well, because she made her appearance practically on the heels of her sister's.
Under the partial-birth abortion, both our daughters could have been aborted for medical reasons. My third pregnancy called a halt to all chemotherapy. Yes, I could have died, but I had I sacrificed my child's life for my own, life would have become a blighted trek. Each breath I drew would remind me that I had stopped hers, each morning would be a haunting indictment that she never would behold the light of any day, and every expression of joy would hesitate at the edge of my heart, knowing I would never hear her sweet chuckle, or see her dimpled chubby hands reach for life.
Where did all that protectiveness come from? From God; where else? Part of being made in His image is the wish to procreate, project, and protect life.
Did we give our children perfect lives? Define perfect. We gave them all we had to offer of love, provision, and values. We taught them that life isn't always fair, but that God and His principles are constant. We taught them that for every action there is a consequence, for every choice there is a payment debited or credited. There was never day that we didn't read the Bible and pray together.
We never had much money. We owned our own business--you know, one of those non-profit ventures where you show up early, leave last, and your help gets paid before you. Our son became a whiz-bang at keeping our 10 year-old machinery masquerading as cars running. The kids worked with us, sometimes they got paid, most times they didn't--unless you count the roof over their heads and the food on their plates. But the house was filled with love, and a peace that didn't come off a satellite dish or out of a VCR. Today they are happy, lead productive lives, and are initiating their parents into the joys of grandparenting.
Abortion is a liar and a thief. It steals the mother's spiritual and emotional life along with the baby's physical life. While my heart aches for the little ones, I know they are with God. But how the great heart of God must break for the mothers who have been taken in by abortion's lie. How they have been cheated.
But then, what do I know? I'm just a grandmother.
