Baby AmZyg gives the floor to her adult half today...
On this day, I forgot to sweep up the dead ants in the guest bath before nine folks arrived this evening. And I forgot to put the upturned couch cushions back in place, after vacuuming under them. I didn't put out flowers, either, even though I had five bunches waiting to go into three waiting vases. It was a different kind of Friday. I'd spent that critical last hour choosing something unusually dressy to wear.
On this day, as I had driven to Trader Joe's to fulfill a garden club obligation, I thought I sensed something new in the faces of all the other drivers. It really appeared that they gripped their steering wheels more intently; that they focused straight ahead more deliberately. They seemed to be driving with hyper - care. The World of Men all seemed to be checking themselves. All mankind seemed to be on notice. Business as usual was no more.
On this day, unusual things cropped up in all kinds of ways. There was a 7:45AM romp with Hubs, who had taken a back seat all week to rambunctious toddlers, grandchildren whom we'd delighted to host from from Sunday to Thursday. He had waited until my daily BibleApp reading was finished (had to catch up on two missed days), then I switched to PANDORA 70's music, leftover from a guest request last week. Not the most amorous playlist, but it would do in a pinch.
When the Marriage Bed had been honored, he needed me to see a news alert on his sports-watch. I was indifferent. Whatever it was, couldn't it wait? I can't read print that small. He insisted.
In the half light of a curtained room, I could barely make it out. RoeWade Overturned.
Surreal.
Even more surreal:
Buffalo Springfield was playing.
It's time we stop
Children, what's that sound?
Everybody look, what's going down?
There's battle lines being drawn
Nobody's right if everybody's wrong
Young people speaking their minds
Getting so much resistance from behind
It's time we stop
Hey, what's that sound?
Everybody look, what's going down?
On this day, as the 7PM Bible Studiers filtered through the door, I noticed my hubs wearing his new Tee. It has "1972" printed on the front right side. It's by Culture of Life, who laud the year when Life was last protected here on Planet USA. ***
On this day, new Tees can be printed. Human life protected once again in 2022. That's "what's going down."
For the past 35 years, the ProLife "Movement" has been in our crosshairs. Tried to foster a ProLife Presence at a Baptist Church in the 90's. Then it was rumored that the unchurched democrats outnumbered churched republicans (
little "d", little "r" *), so, the literature table I'd assembled was shelved out of desire to be 'seeker sensitive'. The
Operation Rescue events I'd attended dwindled down to nothing, but not before I'd met THE Bernard Nathanson, detained with the rest of us in a Cerritos tennis court. I was encouraged to start a ProLife Prayer Group at which one person showed up: Pat L. came to every meeting, until she began to talk more and pray less, so much so that I couldn't wait to find a reason to shelve that, too. We donated to crisis pregnancy centers, volunteered to clean a BirthChoice Clinic office, and prayed outside one of Edward Alred's Family Planning Associates death mills. (God would not answer my cry for the earth to swallow it whole in an unfortunate chasm of Biblical proportions. Why?) **
I taught 10th grade government at a Christian homeschool co-op, but was censured by the BIOLA staff for distributing a pamphlet on abortion. I held a Pro-Life Letter Night once a month at my house, but turmoil in our young marriage killed it.
Little by little, unbeknownst to me, the next generation WAS becoming strangely warmed to the truth that lies had been told, lives had been sacrificed, babies were being slaughtered, and
Planned Parenthood is and always was evil.
Fast forward to last year, when Steven Crowder made me so relieved to know he was "on the job."
That brings me to this morning when time stopped. I took the Buffalo-Springfield-playing camera and shot my view from the where I was seated when Hubs handed me that newsfeed. I couldn't think, so we kneeled down and praised GOD for this small breath of fresh air that feels so rare in an age of lies.
- - -
The place where the Garden Club flowers are supposed to go was under construction, so, after handing out twelve bundles to various staff,
I put the remainder to work street side, where they disappeared by the middle of the following 95 degree day:
As I prepared the above sign, I discovered that our eldest grandchild had left Toddler Commentary on my drawing table, her favorite perch:
I THINK IT'S
VERY HAPPY BABIES IN TUMMIES, THOUGH I CAN'T BE SURE. I WILL ASK HER NEXT TIME SHE VISITS, AND WILL CERTAINLY LET YOU KNOW.
On this day, prayers of thanksgiving and praise went up over and over.
On this day, 1/3 of my Instagram contacts revealed their pro-abortion brainwash.
On this day I've found my purpose: to make sure they all know where I stand and why. I've much work to do.
Holy God. Bring lasting sanity back to this nation. Let this small step, as huge as it seems now, become knee jerk in just a short while, spelling the end to the lawlessness that defines us, that has turned a once blessed nation into a Deuteronomy 28 nightmare.
AmenAMENamen.
- - - - - - - -
* little "d", little "r" It is here that a distinction is never made, but MUST be: that between the Calling of the State to craft laws against devaluation of life, AND the calling of the individual Christian to serve the women sucked into a Culture of Death. The model for each is different by design:
" GOD didn't call the Christian Church to do the job of the State, just as he does not call the State to mimic the calling of the church or individual Christians. Both have DIFFERENT jobs to do: the means to the ends of state justice to the unborn have to be balanced with compassion for the duped woman. The differences between the two roles have to be recognized, honored, and followed. The state MUST punish for the crime of murder, AND the church must rally to the defense of that woman who is pressured into her abortion. Judges can use discretion to separate the callous woman who uses abortion as birth control from the teenager whose parents made her do it. But in reality, if abortionists are jailed first, the message would be clear: only death by Walmart, CVS, RiteAid and Amazon pharmacies would prevail. Once they are fined for wonton disregard for human life, the mifepristone would go underground, obtained from the likes of drug dealers and Walter White chemistry professors. Abortion will then become what it used to be: the purview of Breaking Bad, and judges will (the good ones, anyway. Are there still any of those?) sort through each case as they do for every other denizen of flop house and brothel." - - Eemoe
Christians as Brothers/Sisters in Christ, have to see their little "d", little "r" predilections as unimportant, serving the interest of the Gospel at a microcosm level, giving each the latitude to cling to their sometimes shallow reasoning for choosing a political label. But that is not the job of the state. In government, it's Big D and Big R all the way, and the predilections become stark and necessary for robust debate on Causes and the various factional reasons for them.
** I caught the attention of a man one time. He was in a pick-up truck, & had just dropped off his daughter for an abortion. He was so upbeat to have had an easy way to get rid of his problem. I wondered if the dead child was his by incest. I would later learn that in his racial community, there is a dirty little secret: incest abounds there.
In the life of the Sidewalk Counselor, it becomes clear: most women you meet do not want abortion. They are pressured into it by parents, boyfriends and a culture that says a child will tie you down to a life of poverty. These are the women you pray for most: those who have to live with the decisions others made for them; those who were ascribed so little worth and chance to prove themselves that they believed the lie that babies equal doom. But for all eternity they regret and hide their deeds, succumbing to mind numbing pathologies that mar their thinking, and mark the age we live in. I think I know this, bc some people, upon learning I am not pro-abortion, just stop talking to me. Or, in talking, get unreasonably offended, poisoning the relationship. I need to learn how to lean into that. How to start caring more about reclaiming the friendship instead of allowing it to disappear, both of us staying in our comfortably private little polarized bubbles.
*** Planet USA may well be in good hands with this little rocket pilot at the helm. LORD GoD, Holy Creator, Healer, Maker, Mercy Giver, would that This Little who drew on my art table, someday stand equipped and ready to Know You, trust you, allow you to have her life, that her little rocket would go where no man has gone before, a Brave Little Adventurer for Christ. May her parents fear you, live for you, teach her your Word, and pray over their children every minute of every day. . . because here in California, it's only more uphill battling until Life is again crowned by the culture, one tank of rocket fuel at a time. (...at least I think that's a rocket man zooming through space. Maybe it's just a snappy little mackerel. )
Fascinating legal background on today's decision, below [ scroll to the last bullet point, "Post-Roe Pandemic Politics" ], related to vaccine mandates:
https://www.coffeeandcovid.com/p/-coffee-and-covid-saturday-june-25?utm_source=%2Fprofile%2F45832042-jeff-childers&utm_medium=reader2
