Grave Marker

Since 1978, it has been my first prayer goal to see Planned Parenthood buried in scandal, defunded and left to die with barely an audible cough or whimper.  Thanks to a few color photos in a pamphlet handed out by strangers at that summer's Stanislaus County Fair, I'd found an obvious injustice to which I could apply my newfound passion to pray with abandon in Christ's name... 

I thought La Verne Powlis would drive the first nail into their rickety coffin when she began to expose their eugenic origins while talking to a random few churches in Southern California back in 1992.

I was certain, when they were found selling aborted organs and tissue, that their death knell was imminent and all the rest of the nails ordered by overnight express. 

oh, how I underestimated the control wielded by our death culture:

- those powerful few trapped in denial, who have a white knuckle grip on media perceptions and their Chinese investments, so vested are they in keeping their past protected; 

- and everyone who has bought the lie that "some" people are worth more than others, and that killing people for convenience sake is a paramount human right.

Enter RadianceFoundation.org 

Talk about kick butt. When a sole saint takes his gifts and calling so seriously that he could care less how ominous the opposition seems, I am inspired to dream again. You go Ryan.

Ryan Bomberger 

...and the insane reaction of some at Wheaton College.

Click above to hear about Maafa21.com and to hear Hattie Nuff sing "We've been Guttmachered!"

A PRICELESS USE OF 50 MINUTES.  

Is it time to order the coffin?  Nails shouldn't even be necessary. 

And let PP order their own pine box.
 They've taken billions of our tax dollars,
so, let Cecile Richards foot the bill out of her own 900K salary.

(I guess my prayer life stinks.  PP is still in business; the culture has never been uglier; Christians yawn when I bring up questions re Roe -v- Wade.  

They've capitulated. I am undone. 

ell, at least Cecile R. has retired. But her replacement? Ouch.)

Gosnell, The Movie

Never in all my years of sitting in a movie theatre until the last of the credits have long since rolled past have I EVER SEEN what I saw tonight after watching Gosnell:

Nobody moved.

The screen went grey, the running lights came on, the movie was way beyond oVER,

but there was dead silence; and nobody moved.

The audience was stunned.

OK, so there were only twelve + of us in there, but still. It was surreal.

When the group of three sitting one row down finally began to talk, it was in hushed Farsi. But none of the other groups said a word. And everyone just sat in their seats, unable to process what we'd just witnessed.

Finally, a group way down in front got up and turned around to see who else was in there, but still, not a word was spoken.

Everyone was speechless.

And after those ten had finally filed down the side steps, rounded the corner and disappeared out of view, after even more time paused, the dear friend beside me, whom I had sort of dragged in there after a long day of lunch and chatting, remained stunned.

Silence still reigned.

Go see this phenomenon.  And if you know writer/blogger Mollie Ziegler Hemingway or reporter J.D. Mullane, give them my heartfelt regards. They are the real show stopper stars of this story.

Kudos to blogger/reporters everywhere, even if the one in the movie was just a composite:

The Rest Of The Story

PS:
You know that tense shaking that your body sustains when you're watching the perfect horror movie, a Braveheart treachery scene or Jaws? It's a combination of The Chills and a shot of adrenaline?

I got that 2/3rds of the way through. And it was just a freaking courtroom scene. How did they do that? oMy, but the art of editing and sound design can so powerfully affect the brain.

PPS:
Good to know (thank you blogosphere) to boycott GoFundMe and THANK Indiegogo with all future fundraising needs.

Alternate Realities?

BabyAmZyg's editor here:

Yes, with all my heart, women and men create alternate realities when depressed, suffering from post traumatic stress, when taking weird meds, or when... when ANYTHING unwelcome threatens to take them down.

Our brains are so gifted with a suppleness and strange facility to be easily mislead.

This capacity is called Original Sin. We all have it, we all strive to elude it, and we all suffer from our failure to avoid the effects --the fall out-- from that eluding.

I make this confident assertion from three personal exhibitions of the phenomenon.   Three times (that I know of!) when I concocted an alternate reality and swore on stacks of Bibles that my memory was correct when it turned out (in at least two of the three times, anyway) that I was very WRONG.

Incident #1
Following a 12 month period of slogging through more stress than most weakling humans like me could stand...

(...failed to meet a college graduation deadline, laid off from work, moved twice to save on rent, embarrassing CRISIS pregnancy, shotgun wedding and the surrendering of 95% of its planning to an insensitive mother in law, learned that our pre-marital assessment indicated we are extremely incompatible, took a very stupid and costly honeymoon, scoured the classifieds for a last minute address to set up shop as "Christian Parents," scoured the Classifieds for employers that would hire a woman five months pregnant, had the baby without insurance, struggled to parent an infant and try NOT to parent my spouse while working part time in compressed short order with no parents around while living on a $60/week for an 'everything' budget, and then getting dissed by the hick pastor of our church for being "such a sinner"...)

... my parents stopped in for a night and a day, passing thru town.  They were very grateful for our convenient digs, and were excited that we could put them up.  Saying goodnight before turning in, they brought up a detail from some long ago previous season of life, and I responded with some recollections. They denied my recollections. I stood firm, and insisted my memory was correct and they were wrong. I just knew they were wrong!  After they both denied my account of things, we had to agree to disagree, though I was really peeved and feeling incredibly betrayed at their inability to recall my account of things.  I still believe I was right, but given all the stress we'd just (barely) survived, I think I can say the parents were more likely correct and I was a nut case.

Incident #2
I returned to a Jack In The Box one day after dining there with the kids. I was sure I'd left my wallet full of the month's operating cash ($350- things had gotten a little better) on the fast food counter. They were so polite and sensitive; SUPER helpful, allowing me to look at security camera footage in the manager's office to see where it went. Wouldn't you know, the 30 minute period in question (when my receipt indicated the exact time of our visit) was mysteriously missing. I smelled a rat. A major conspiracy. I had been wronged, I just knew it!  I was insane with indignation.

I even went back the NEXT day to have a word with a different manager.  Still no tape, and no wallet. NO satisfaction. No grocery money. What else was there to do but return home and go to my knees to pray.

That's where all the answers effectively come from, in my experience, so I shut the door of my bedroom, fell to the floor and really sobbed kneeling there against the bed.

And what do you know. I felt a strange compulsion to look under the bed... Some would say that was the Holy Spirit, but I am of a mind it was probably just a subconscious flicker of sanity.

There under the bed was the wallet.  I could BARELY recall placing it there a week prior, feeling sure that it would be safer there than in my purse where I'd be apt to spend it all too quickly.  I had created an alternate reality out of some primeval stress over having too much cash in my impulsive little mitts.

"...Created an alternate reality."

You see why Christine Blasey Ford may not be a reliable witness?  I've done it, and she has even more reason than I did to invent a memory.  I was carrying on in a state of anxiety over cash and marital crises: she was carrying on after six or so years working for the manufacturer of Mifepristone, one of two drugs used in the abortion pill 'cocktail'.

Her psyche is intricately linked to a need to keep abortion legal for her own sanity's sake.  

Why wouldn't she imagine a Supreme Court nominee is himself The Devil Incarnate when, if approved, he could very well be the deciding vote criminalizing her livelihood?

Even if it were true that she imagined this fiction years before his nomination, knowing, as she must have, that he was living the prosaic life of a supposed self-righteous pro-life Catholic judge might've been enough to send her imagination into full tilt.

If working to secure FDA approval for a death pill doesn't send your psyche beneath some primeval netherworld bus, nothing would. And I believe hers is there, begging for rescue. (I also believe her abortion minded cohorts could have her convinced that sheer boldface lying isn't really lying if it's done in the service to a woman's right "to choose" (<-- and here is where every right thinking human inserts the rest of the matter: "woman's right to choose... to kill her unborn child.")


Incident #3
It's two weeks ago. I realize the keys in my purse are not mine; they are my husband's set, and I must've left my set of keys back at his parent's house.  Come to think of it, I can see them "in my mind's eye," right on the dresser of his mother's guest room where'd I'd just spent the afternoon sorting through a box of old family photos.

We call her to see if she and Gramps have found them. No, they haven't.

We call the church where we'd been that evening. Security says no; no sets of keys have been turned in to Lost and Found.

We're stumped.  I can see them, plain as day, sitting next to my neck wrap on that dresser back at my in-law's.  It's crazy that they haven't been found in the spot where I am sure I left them.

So... husband to the rescue. He knows this drill: down to our knees we go, he urges.  We bend down alongside that trusty old bed of ours, patellas settled comfortably into well worn his-and-hers prayer pillows; home made kneelers of a sort.

(So I'm not an expert seamstress. If they work, they work!
And they really do work)

Once he's implored the God of Order, who banishes chaos and brings light out of darkness, to give aid to his poor wife's brain so that she can recall where she put those keys, he gets up and begins to look around the house (again), and finds himself searching apron pockets.  Why? Who knows why, it just seemed like the right thing to do.  And, low and behold, there they were, in the big pouch pocket of a gardening apron that was dangling from the curtain rod over the backyard door.

And how did I imagine they were back at my mother and father-in-law's home, over an hour away?

W E L L,   we   just   don't   know,

BUT, 

I had done it again: created an alternate reality for no apparent reason.

The mysteries of these forays into semi-sanity are little understood, and yet I've a feeling one will probably strike again...

Should I be so unfortunate as to be taken in by yet another self-imposed fiction, at least I am certain as to how one extricates herself from its power:

PrayPraY PRAY away the chaos of the mind 

and learn to depend on the Power of the OnlyOmnicientOtherWhoKnowsUs 

in order to get a firm fix on what is TRUE and right and good.

And I will pray too for sex abuse victims, men and women everywhere, who have nowhere else to turn but their frayed psyches, frayed PhD's, boxes of donuts and anyone who will listen. May they learn to crave the abiding leadership of the only One Who Does Not Lie.  Because every human lies. And they often don't even know they're doing it.

Craving Truth right now in the name of Christ Jesus The ONLY; the ONE who is coming again soon. And when He does that, everyone will know it's Him doing it.

AMEN.

PS: just ran across photos of me standing in a line of bridesmaids, all of us matching in flouncy bouncy "eighties" dresses, and have NO RECOLLECTION of this event.  I am sure having to wear that dress occasioned the need to banish the memory from every part of my brain.

Once again,

the human memory is a famously, 

hugely 

unreliable thing.

Denial Bubble?

Things are starting to finally make sense.  After posting on May '18, a growing awareness has taken hold.  Though I am but a Zygote, I  manage to have a Big Thought every now and then...

If I telescope outward from S. who lived next door, to carloads of women protesters, women networkers, women at the grocery store, women voting their fellow feminists into office, and women certain they were raped by Supreme Court nominees while in high school, (and as well, all the self absorbed men who helped to them get abortions, or, more to my point, forced them to), I now see that they have one thing in common*:

In order to function at any level of sanity or semi-sanity after justifying an abortion, it would be stupid to come out in opposition to the legality of it.

It is only possible to stay sane when trying to suppress a buoyant, always surfacing bubble of denial, by insisting that the bubble is not there, or if it is, it shouldn't matter because the action was a "constitutionally protected" one...

... and to do everything in one's power to make sure no one else's abortion denial emerges either, so that everyone can enjoy a soothing, collective sigh of relief that no one's psyche is harmed whilst going about the meddlesome business of just day to day living; and so we invent things.

We manufacture an alternate reality, and even hire lawyers who can cash in on our mire and codify our fiction.

O why o'why have I not been continually praying that the soothing balm of Jesus would penetrate this madness, and let every woman know how it's all going to be OK when life is honored again.


I must go now and re-start that prayer group that, once upon a time, was a glimmer of hope for me.


*Well. I would be remiss not to mention the "...one thousand female physicians" whom Senator Feinstein invokes, and who may as well be metaphors for all the hitmen (abortionists) and their victims who justify and profit from an out of control sex industry, sex culture and the ten million bulging, wagging stretchpant squeezed buttocks that saunter down sidewalks and thru mallshops every minute of the day, usually donning their attendant midriff baring yoga bras... weak and aimless lemmings disguised as playboy bunny rabbits, owned by a blind devotion to Cosmo and a desperate need to belong.

Institute on Religion and Democracy

IRD's (Institute on Religion and Democracy's) 
compelling

Chelsen V. Processes

Re:
The demonic subculture and

All the harm 
they intend

To do

Reporting Live from Wild Goose

Copies of Bella Everywhere

Baby AmZyg, being but a big blubbering baby, is naturally naive, being a Baby's Baby and all.

Naive about why it is taking so long to be jettisoned from her cramped little Roe-v-Wade prison cell; naive about why grown men who put on black robes and sit on high courts become suddenly blinded to the obvious; naive as to why people who kNOW I am real continue to go about their lives as if I am not...

Therefore it is with deepest heartfelt certainty that I recommend to every pro-life sympathizer who ever lived in these Fractured States of America, the following course of action:

Spend an hour at Life Training Institute and become assured at how easy it is to compel your homies/husbands/housemates to care about unseen people like me...

Spend two hours watching Bella or October Baby and become convinced that unseen people like me are just the beginning of a million profound eternal stories...

Then (oh, this part is so easy. I've done it (never) a hundred times myself and am naive enough to believe that you will too):

Spend three hours

visiting your senators and congressmen/women 

gifting them with DVD copies of the above,

convincing them

to ALSO watch Bella, all the while using your wicked new Life Training Institute skilz 

to blow their minds with how blind and stupid they

have (most likely) been these past FORTY FIVE years...

  

- FORTY FIVE YEARS?! FORTY FIVE YEARS??! - 

(BabyAMZYG just gurgled stinging hot tears of consternation. Look*)

These newly reprised senators and congressmen will now be only too eager to press their colleagues on the Senate Judiciary Committee to soundly confirm any and every conservative judge to the Supreme Court of these highly un-united little states of (little-A) america.

And finally, spend four hours on your knees repenting for these lost ones, for our lost generation, for our own petty sins** and for whatever else the Living and Eternal God lays upon our conscience.

Being naive has it's advantages, believing that anything can happen if one prays hard enough. And it usually does.

* number of abortions performed since 1970  is now 45,838,000. 

If you're wondering what those tiny screaming baby sounds are, it's me, begging YWH (God in Hebrew) to PLEASE MAKE RoeWade STOP... and remembering **Deuteronomy 28, where it is not naive to hope for an end to every confounding national curse...

(Thank you, Eduaro Verástegui. Just THANK you.)

Whose CHOICE at the Ballot Box

In the run-up to  June primaries, my heart aches to imagine any voter who might have disconnected the ballot from the unborn child,

or/and who might take a slate mailer into the voting booth.

Never do I cast a vote for candidates who are

"Endorsed by Planned Parenthood Affiliates of... [insert your locale]"

Never do I cast a vote for someone whose campaign website declares support for

"a woman's right to 'choose,' "

 or that declares an undying dedication to "women's health" w/o specifying what "health" means. Tearing an unborn child from the womb is most definitely NOT --though feminists disagree-- a healthy choice.


NEVER NEVER never do I trust a slate mailer. They go straight from the mailbox to the recycle bin.

AND... ALWAYS ALWAYS do I support

 candidates who clearly state

 that Roe -vs- Wade and Doe -vs- Bolton 

were unmitigated disasters for the last two generations. 

"Down with the death-culture!"
they should boldly add.

(... and to female "Pastor S." who graduated from Fuller Seminary not long ago, moved next door, and declared that women don't care about abortion anymore, may I implore you to post-haste check yourself into Rehab

and begin therapy to excise yourself 

out of the giant denial bubble in which you currently live?)

Spoken Word Aptly Spoken
... Dedicated to women everywhere, but especially those at Fuller seminary

January 22, 2018 Like Groundhog Day

It comes every year, an unrelenting reminder that we are STILL not doing enough; another Sanctity of Human Life Day has come and gone. Once again, I woke up that morning and realized everything's still the same all over again.

Why is RoeWade still "legal"? I believe it's because people have too much invested in hiding what they did, or in what they did helping someone else to do.  Ours is a culture of fear and shame.

It's how the Larry Nassars and Harvey Weinsteins of our era (and every era) get away with so much for so long: 

People are so accustomed to looking the other way 

because they do not want to look in the mirror; 

and for sure, 

who wants to stick their heads up?  

Fear rules the day.

But as reliable as ever, James Dobson brings it all in.

His January Letter this year brought a joy to my heart. While Family Life Today ignored the Sanctity observance altogether and Focus On The Family gave it a few days, Dobson's show, MyFamilyTalk, gave it the most air play, and for that I am grateful.


Dobson Airs Rose Garden Address to 45th Annual March For Life

Today's Broadcast


I learned amazing things about D.T. in the above write up, and it occurs to me that the real story behind the new President's pro-life achievements is the untold one:

someone got to him. 

Who was it?

Ronald Regan changed his mind on this matter of all matters also, and now I am wondering who was it for Trump?

What 

unheralded, behind-the-scenes 

Heroes for the Cause of Life 

got the attention of these two 

august* men, 

and when it mattered most, persuaded them to see the light 
of 
reason?

Whomever you are, I hope you know that on this day a tiny zygote in California, USA is praying for God's favor over your lives in ways that will clearly bless all your socks off.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
*au·gust

ôˈɡəst/

adjective

1. respected and impressive.

   "she was in august company"

   synonyms:

   distinguished, eminent, illustrious, prestigious, renowned, celebrated, exalted;

   for our current president, I mean to insinuate only the most arm's length respect allowed under the precedents set by our storied, truly AUGUST Founders of this once even-more-august United States of North America.  (and I didn't especially like Ronald Reagan either, but what did I know...)

   
   

   
   

   
   

   
   

   
   

ProLife Sanity Month

One can reason that shell shock stemming from rash political outcomes of the last year might be enough to keep one from blogging, or, doing anything mildly productive in life, so surreal is the climate and temperment of this nation.

But January is  must-come-up-for-air month in Zygote Land. This month above all others calls on AmZygs everywhere to redouble their will to clutch at any remnant of hope that sanity could return to a nation.


Sanity Training Wheels


Be Winsome Part 1


Be Winsome Part 2


May we all press into the fabric of time and say no to the mundane, trivial and stupid (everything you were planning to watch on tv tonight), and yes to the voices of wisdom, reason, scholarship and obedient stewardship heralded in the links above.

And may the shell shock of this age soon wear off. The stress of every news cycle really wears out the gestational gears around here.