Today is usually designated as Sanctity of Life Sunday, since it falls on
the weekend that is the anniversary of the Roe v. Wade decision. To quote
LaShawn
Barber: Thirty-two years ago [yesterday], the U.S. Supreme Court held
that women have a right
to privacy to kill their unborn children..."
Years ago, I didn't think it mattered whether a woman got an abortion or
not.
Years ago, I thought it was her own decision, and between her and her
conscience.
Somewhere along the way, I changed my mind.
Maybe it was learning about women who were still grieving for their dead
child, decades after the event.
Maybe it was learning that the folks who pushed Roe v. Wade made up their
statistics.
Maybe it was learning the magnitude of the loss - an unborn child dies every
24 seconds.
Maybe it was finally realizing that all life is truly precious, regardless
of how old that life may be.
At any rate, there was a point where God got through to me about this silent holocaust, and when He finally did, He gave me some words to describe it. The words are in the form of a poem, which I've posted here.
At the time, I was attending a church in San Antonio, and every year on Sanctity of Life Sunday, my pastor there would post the poem on the bulletin board in the sanctuary ( I've not lived there for several years, so I've no idea if he is still posting it).
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