49 Years

 Today marks the 49th anniversary of Roe v Wade. For some it is a day of mourning and for many others it is a day of celebration.  It's significance seems to be a little greater, or at least more on the forefront, this year because of the battle that's been going on in Texas over the heartbeat law that I believe just had a pretty solid victory in the Supreme Court.  I don't actually know because in all honesty, the political side of abortion isn't where my heart is drawn.  

I'm extremely pro-life, so I would love to live in a world where abortion wasn't even considered, much less a "right" that woman and men felt compelled to fight for, but I just don't think you will really find either the issue or the answers in the laws and politics.  And frankly, when it becomes all about that, people get angry and dogmatic and the sanctity of human life just gets lost in the chaos. 

I was just 19-years-old when I found myself in an unplanned pregnancy situation.  The situation quickly became a crisis as more people were added to the equation.  My then boyfriend (now husband of almost 31 years) and I had only been dating for a couple of months when I found out I was pregnant.  He was unemployed, his dad had just followed his mom and little brother back east and he was struggling to find solid roommates and I was helping him make his rent payments.  He was 1000% willing to step up, do the right thing, support me and the baby and even marry me, he just wasn't in much of a position to do it.  The first time my parents met Neal was the day he sat at the end of my kitchen table when we told my parents I was going to have a baby.  Needless to say it didn't go over well. 

Thirty-three years later, now a parent of my own young adult children, I think I have a better understanding of what my parents must have been thinking and feeling that day.  Truth be told, my mom wasn't surprised.  I remember she had been saying things about me being pregnant for a couple weeks, and when I stopped denying it and finally confessed the truth at that table, I remember her looking across the table at my dad with that haughty "I told you so" look.  My dad on the other hand looked like I had ripped his heart out, completely betrayed.  I think I understand better now how your children disappointing you can feel a lot like betrayal.  That's what my dad looked like-- betrayed.  And he was angry.  The conversation didn't go well, and despite our announcement that we were going to get married and have the baby, the response was pretty much a very clear "over my dead body," from my dad. 

That was when the pressure began.  My dad had it settled in his mind that I would have an abortion rather than "ruin my life." So began the constant pressure to move me in the direction he insisted was the only way.  I remember a lot of heated discussions and screaming matches.  One of them even ended with my taking a flung remote control to the chest.  

I don't want to make my dad out as a villain.  I understand now how a parent feels when they feel like their child is going to ruin their life.  It's a painful and desperate feeling, and as much as he was angry with me and at the situation, he was also scared.  He was certain that marrying and having a baby with a guy I barely knew, who he and my mom didn't know at all and who didn't even have a job, was a really, really bad idea.  And as a parent now, I can't say I don't understand that feeling and perception. 

Before I got pregnant, I don't think I even knew what an abortion was.  I do know when I found out I was pregnant that abortion never even entered my mind until my parents brought it up.  Naively, I think I even thought it was kind of cool to be pregnant.  My (older) best friend growing up had gotten pregnant at 18 or 19 and married her boyfriend.  By then they had two kids and life seemed to be going pretty well for them.  I don't remember, but maybe that was part of why I never even considered a downside to being 19, unmarried and pregnant.  

The pressure from my dad was constant.  My mom was more silent than usual on the issue, but I knew she stood with my dad on what would be best for me.  If I was around my dad there were one of two scenarios happening-- screaming anger and disappointment or absolute silent freezing-out isolation.  He was either coming at me or cutting me off.  

It was incessant.  At the time, I not only lived with my parents, but I worked for them.  I remember the day we were standing in the shop near the time clock when my dad broke the freeze-out long enough to turn to me with a searing knife of an ultimatum that pierced my heart.  He looked at me straight in the eye and said to me, "If you have this baby, you will no longer be my daughter." And I knew beyond question, in the moment that he said it, he meant it.  

That's what shattered my Pollyanna pretending about becoming a wife and mom at 19.  I had to face the fact that Neal and I hadn't been together long enough for me to be sure about him.  And I would have no family.  I am an only child, and up until that point, I was a daddy's girl. His disappointment was unbearable.  If my dad walked away, my mom would too.  I would have no home, no job, no safety net. I finally felt like my back was up against the wall and I had no choice but to give in.  I just didn't think there was any other way I could make it work. 

My mom made the appointment, I insisted she pay the extra $250 so I could be asleep.  Thirty-three years later, I can tell you with full confidence that that was the grace of God.  I have worked with, counseled and ministered to so many women who were awake for their procedures and 20, 30 even 40 years later they are still haunted and have nightmares about the sounds of suctions and crunching of tiny baby bones.  That's not sensationalism, that's just facts. 

Even though I agreed to have the abortion, I was never on board with it. When I went to my pre-op appointment and they did the ultrasound, I saw my unborn baby, though that wasn't something I really understood until years later when I was pregnant with my first born, Jacob.  Thankfully God had done a great healing in my heart by then, but it still brought a gravity to that memory that I'd never really had before. 

I was ashamed of myself and my decision to have the abortion, so I lied about it.  The agreement was that no one would know about it outside of my immediate family, not even Neal.  He was working through a temp agency by then, so on the morning of the abortion I started the ruse with a phone call to him at work telling him I was having bleeding and cramps and I was going to go to the doctor to see what was going on. I can only imagine how helpless he must have felt that whole day not knowing what was going on.  

I begged my mom the whole way to the clinic not to make me do it.  I wanted her on my side.  I wanted her to give me an out.  She told me I didn't have to do it if I didn't want to, but if I didn't do it, I would have to face my dad-- alone.  I already knew what that meant.  He'd made that completely clear that day in the shop.  I had to choose, have the baby, or have my family.  And I did not have the foresight or faith to even consider the baby, all I could feel was the fear. 

When we pulled up to the clinic, there were a lot of angry people outside, carrying ugly pictures, screaming ugly words.  As my mom slowed enough to pull through the dip at the curd and into the driveway, a man came up to the window of the car and pointed straight at me and with anger and hate in his eyes, he pointed straight at me and screamed at me, "MURDERER!!"  Suddenly, the place I least wanted to go became the safest place to be. Workers came from inside the clinic, put their arms around me and ushered me inside.  I felt protected by them as they led me away from the chaos and hate. 

Now, I need to say, I am certain many of the people outside the clinic that day were not angry, and were well-intentioned, and genuinely cared about me and my baby, I just couldn't see past the loudest and the angriest voices.  The voices that rose to the top were voices of judgment and hostility, and they simply drown out any compassion and care I might have found there.  I often wonder how things might have turned out differently if I had heard the right voices.  I was looking for a way out after all, and perhaps if I had found a voice of hope, or an offer of help, I might have found the strength to make a different decision.  I can never really know.  Nor can I discount the way God used that decision I did make for my eventual good and for His glory.  But please do not mistake that statement of faith as any kind of endorsement that for the decision to abort, or any encouragement that it turned out to be a good thing, because that just isn't so.  There is no knowing what good or glory could have just as easily come out of that life being allowed to live. 

My heroes from the clinic didn't remain heroes for long. The humiliation of the cattle call process of having an abortion was deeply felt. Traveling along like a lost sheep, following arrows on the floor barely covered in a hospital gown, looking into the faces of so many other women who looked just as conflicted as I felt was awful.  Thankfully I remember only a little of the stirrups and the irritated doctor in the room where it happened, but I do remember waking up in recovery to the sound of anther woman's tears, whimpering as she cried out, "My baby, my baby..."  And one of these same staff members who so kindly ushered us in to our "procedures" was now harshly and rudely reprimanding this woman to be silent in her regret and pain.  Now the cattle call had become more like a cattle prod as we were all hurried to get dressed, get our cookies and juice (like we had made some sort of donation) and get gone. 

It was almost three years before I came to terms with the decision I made that day. I lied to everyone that I had had a miscarriage.  I spent those years angry and hostile, and oddly enough extremely PRO-abortion.  I know it seems strange, but that was my response, I wasn't just "pro-choice," I WANTED other women to have an abortion. I think mostly because I didn't want to feel so alone.  No one was bragging about "exercising their rights" back in those days. Abortion might have been a dark and dirty little secret for some, but for me it became a mission.  I remember trying to talk a friend in an unexpected pregnancy into "joining the club." Thankfully she made a different choice, but I remember the way I LIED to her and told her how simple and neat the whole process could be, as I pushed down all the pain, loss, sorrow, shame and humiliation deep into my soul. It bubbled up often as anger and venom directed mostly toward my mother over the course of those next years, even while we planned my wedding and into most of the first year of my marriage. 

It was the week of my 22nd birthday, just over 10 months after I married Neal, who still had no idea I had had an abortion that I had my first miscarriage. What a devastating day that was.  In addition to being fully in support of other women having abortions, I was desperate and determined in my own life to get pregnant again and have a baby.  I can't tell you how much I longed for it, and how deep the ache burned, so much so that I stopped taking birth control six months BEFORE I got married. And it hurt every day in the year and a half I spent trying to no avail. 

Neal and I were at a couple's wedding shower the weekend before my 22nd birthday when my cramps from what I thought was a particularly heavy period got so severe he had to carry me out of the party and take me home.  I suffered at home the rest of the weekend until I could finally get into the doctor where I was told I was in the final stages of a miscarriage. My heart broke, and I knew to the depth of my being that I was being punished by God, just as I believed at the time that I deserved to be. 

My dad had to drive Neal to me at the doctor's office because I was simply too heartbroken to drive myself home. As I looked my dad in the eye that day, which I could barely do, I was the one who felt betrayed, but I think I saw heartache and sadness for me in his eyes.  Neal did his best to care for me, but because he still didn't know the truth about our first child, he had no idea what pain and regret were really consuming me. It wasn't just that I felt sad about another baby lost, I felt guilty and responsible. 

Thankfully, I can say now that that day was a turning point in my life.  It brought me first to Christ, then to healing. It brought me to a place of confession to God and my husband. Neal too came to the Lord through my return to church.  God did a deep and methodical healing in my heart and soul.  He did some restoration too.  Almost two years after that miscarriage Jacob was born, and after he was, my dad apologized to me for pushing me into the abortion, and even though I had by then long forgiven him and my mom and come to terms with my own sin and culpability in my first, (and by default second) child's death(s), it put a nice closure on that part of my relationship with my dad. I finally felt like a Daddy's girl again. 

Now I have shared a lot more of my story than I meant to, but I wanted to point out the need for kindness and compassion on the subject of abortion.  Too many Christians, including Christian leaders are so passionate about saving unborn babies, that their desperation turns their words and sometimes their tactics into destroyers of communication where what is needed is an invitation to be heard and understood.  It's why I don't concern myself too much with the politics of abortion. 

That's not to say I don't believe there isn't value in that part of the pro-life movement, people need to follow their passions, and trust the Holy Spirit in themselves and we need to trust also the Holy Spirit in one another.  Just because I don't feel like that's the ground where I feel like I need to fight (though I DO VOTE pro-life) it does not mean God hasn't directed other people that way.  What is important though, is wherever we are fighting, we need to remember who the enemy is. I can tell you with 100% assurance, it is NOT the mother considering abortion.  It isn't even the politicians and judges who are pushing and proponents for "choice."  It's not even the doctors performing them.  The enemy is the devil, and the fight needs to be against all of his tools.  There is a LOT of deception, not just women who have abortions for whatever justification they come to.  A lot of abortion advocates are sincerely deceived in their passion to fight for a woman's right to choose, and there are a LOT of doctors deceived into believing they are actually doing a good thing by "helping" women by providing a way out of a crisis.  The (little g) god of this world is a masterful liar, and just about all of us are buying into some lie somewhere, and in this area, there are so so many people who are fooled. 

Abortion is a tool of the devil.  It destroys lives, not just the unborn, but often the lives of the women who have the abortions.  I have been to rallies and prayer vigils against abortion and I have seen angry women screaming in my face about the RIGHT to abortion.  And I have looked at them and KNOWN them, because there was a time when I was one of them. A LOT of those women are post-abortive women who are trying to justify their decisions or numb their pain through activism, and now that it's actually fashionable to have had an abortion, and shameful to be against it, they just shout down that hitch in their souls all the more. A woman full of pain and regret that the "world" says shouldn't feel negatively about participating in an act that deep down at the core of their natural being just knows should never have been.  Pregnancy is a life inside of you, and the untimely and unnatural cessation of that life does something inside of you.  Even if it isn't recognized, something breaks.  It's a deep spiritual hurt that stays with you.  And I don't care how many women say that it isn't that way, I have seen too many battle with it. It's like a form of PTSD.  Even those women who are having abortions repeatedly, I believe, are just trying to bury that nagging unrest that abortion leaves in a soul. 

The sad thing is, abortion has just gotten easier in these days with chemical abortions-- like an at home kit.  Even the morning after pill is meant to normalize the process.  Laws that make it legal for minors who can't get their ears pierced without parental permission are given the "right" and responsibility to make life altering decisions for themselves. It isn't right.  Who among us thinks a 15-year-old has the life experience and maturity to make those kinds of decisions?  I certainly don't. And in states like California, Connecticut and Alaska there is no age requirement for parental consent for abortion at all. We're talking 10, 11 and 12 year olds here. (If you don't see it, trust me when I tell you this is an issue with child sexual abuse and sex trafficking. And no, it's not better that a girl in one of those situations has an abortion, because all it means is she has now been victimized twice.) But this is where we are, and then we tell them there is something wrong with them if they aren't OK with the process of abortion, and I think that's a lot to put on a full grown adult woman, much less a young girl that is only steps beyond being a child. 

But the pro-life movement needs to remember that there is no way to save an unborn baby without reaching its mother.  There needs to be just as much compassion for the mother as there is passion for saving the unborn child.  You have to touch the one heart to save both lives. There is no reaching and protecting the baby alone, not even through legislation and politics.  Now I'm not making the cliche about hangers and back room abortions. but I am acknowledging that at this point, it is highly unlikely we will legislate abortion away, even if there are victories like the heartbeat law in Texas (which only limits abortion, it does not eliminate it.) 

The world has gone crazy these days, on so much more than the subject of abortion.  At the center of all of the chaos is a lack of compassion and understanding.  People aren't listening to one another anymore.  Even within the church there is so much division and dissension, and a whole lot of anger and hostility. 

I think a lot about the way Jesus interacted with people, women in particular-- the woman at the well, the woman caught in adultery. He met them not with judgment, but with compassion.  He met them in their sin, their struggle and their hurt.  That's the model that He left us with.  I don't think it would be any different if he came upon a woman considering abortion, or a woman who's had one. I know that's not how He came to me. Care, compassion, kindness and forgiveness-- forget all the shortages on the shelves in our stores, this is where we are really lacking.  

He left us with instructions to love one another.  And I say this with full acknowledgement that this is a hard thing for me, at least beyond the subject of abortion, but we need to work harder and the act of loving one another, forgiving one another, caring for one another... even when we have to agree to disagree.  They seem sort of cliche, but it's true, love the sinner and hate the sin.  Don't judge and condemn the person just because you are rightly able to judge their sin.  It doesn't define them.  I am certainly grateful that my sin doesn't define me. "Murderer" is covered by the blood and the reality of "child of God," but even before I knew Him, He loved me, and the same is true of those people we find so hard to love. But we can do it, but only by His power and grace.  The world could use more of both, and if you are His you are called to be a vessel of them.  We all need to try a little harder to remember that and walk that out in His strength, one day at a time. 

Blessings, 

Diana 

Loss

 When I was younger I used to love to preach and teach God's Word.  I had a mentor in my life who saw something in me that I likely never would have seen in myself, and she was in a position to give me opportunity to teach God's Word in women's Bible studies, so she pushed me in that direction. Because I trusted her, I gave it a try, and I loved it. 

I used to get to preach and teach all the time, first with women and then with youth group.  I can look back and remember very specific moments of teaching where I knew God had shown up and given me a timely word to share.  It was exhilarating to sense His presence that way and to see Him move among the women, and later young people where I was able (by His power and with His help) to give them something to grasp onto.  It was like a nugget of Truth that I could offer with word pictures of every day things like, hair dryers, bagels and cream cheese, and broken pottery. 

It was addicting.  I wanted to do it more and more.  It wasn't that I thought I was good, but it was the thrill of sensing His strength in me.  For a long time there was a lot of opportunity, then one day, it was gone.  People in power used it against me.  People who had the ability to say "No," to me having an opportunity to share took it away.  And it happened several times in several places.  And it hurt.  I would even call the way it happened abusive, but there was nothing I could do about it.  

Oddly that's when I learned a lot about ministry... the mathematics of ministry you might say.  I realized that God did not add or divide the way I thought it had to be done.  I missed standing in front of rooms full of people to share His Word.  Honestly, it hurt like hell.  And I felt slighted.  I never blamed God, but I did wonder often why He allowed it.  I never got the answer I was looking for, and for a lot of years I felt very hurt and pretty bitter. I couldn't even talk about things like hopes and dreams, because mine had always included being able to teach and preach His Word and to minister in His name. The word "hope" would bring tears to my eyes and a lump in my throat. I refused to even allow myself to hope or dream. 

But in the midst of that, that's when that math lesson came up-- and He showed me that where as I thought I was doing more in front of a room full of people that a one on one conversation could be just as important-- maybe even more so.  Actually He showed me that my job was just to be His vessel as best as I could be, and that even if He ever chose to put me (or anyone else) in front of a room full of people, or even a cathedral full of people, God would meet each person on an individual basis. Any teacher or speaker might say one thing, but by His power it might speak a hundred different things to a hundred different people, but even still that a single private conversation was just as important in God's eyes. 

Eventually I got to a place of peace, or maybe resolve, where I could lay aside my desire to preach and speak without bitterness. In fact, for a long time, I really didn't want to do it all.  I think maybe that's why even the writing stopped.  But then I also got to the place, where I really didn't feel like I even had anything to say anymore.  Then even worse, I got to a place where whatever I had to say wasn't good, and it definitely wasn't God or His Word.  

It's a strange experience when you lose something you love, particularly painful when something is taken away without your consent, beyond your control.  The peace I had, and even the lack of desire never really took away all the pain.  It didn't fill the hole, it just made the hole easier to live with. 

I think I've been thinking back on all of this more lately because once again I am in a season of loss and hurt that is beyond my control.  My husband and I are losing our business, with it goes some of our freedom and autonomy.  Neal is going to work for someone else, and I don't even have a job lined up.  We took over the family business three years ago, and now as it closes in like three days, I feel like I failed.  It's funny, I don't feel like WE failed, I just feel like I failed.  But much worse than the state of our business is the state of our family. 

I think if I'm honest, I probably missed speaking it into the the lives of some of the most important audience He had given me-- my kids. The other night I was watching Avengers: End Game (and I am tearing up even as I type this) and there is a scene when Thor goes back in time to visit his now deceased mother, and just watching their relationship I started to cry.  I was jealous, because I don't think I have impacted my kids the way I should have.  I don't think I did them justice as a mom.  I love my kids, but I don't think I ever managed to earn that love a mom is supposed to earn from her kids. Although my relationships with my boys are in pretty good places, even though one lives thousands of miles away (and there's a time I would have said he went that far to get away from me) and the other is very independent, I don't know that they would miss me if I was gone. I don't think I earned that "My mom helped get me to my joy or success" moment. Even worse though is my relationship with my daughter, which is completely broken and shattered.  So much so, in my heart of hearts I fear she might just dance on my grave.  

And the thing of it is, there's nothing I can do about it.  Or rather no matter how much I might do (though I will confess a lot of anger that at times makes me not want to do much at all) I still don't have the control to fix anything on my own.  As close as I once thought we were, we are now that far apart and more.  Sometimes I don't feel like I can survive the loss of that relationship, but I just have to keep breathing every day.   Yes, I realize the story isn't over yet, but the loss is so painful and great and that I can't dare to ever hope it will get better.  As the Good Book says, "Hope deferred makes the heart sick..."  I know there is a word of hope that comes after that, but once again, I find myself afraid to hope because of the hurt. 

Dear God, life is so hard. And it certainly doesn't help that I haven't felt close to the Father in a really long time.  Suffering through this last year I have had seasons of pursuing Him, but they always fall away... I always fall away.  Sometimes if I am brutally honest with myself, I have to compare the way I treat the Father with the way my daughter treats me (minus the anger and animosity.)  Sad thing is that not connecting with God is probably the greatest loss in my life of all.  And even though I know I have the ability to make it better, I feel like part of me has lost the will to try. 

Loss is heavy. Loss is consuming. Loss is hard.  Loss makes hope feel very far away. 

The Lord is at hand - Vlog #1

The Darkness

I had been suffering horrendous anxiety and depression for months and months... maybe longer... I was suffering more than anyone knew, even though I was "leaking," no one really knew how dark my thoughts were, how much the sadness made it hard to even get out of the bed in the morning.

I didn't feel far from God, I knew He was still with me, watching over me, even calling out to me, but it wasn't enough to pull me out of my darkness.  I was functioning, but inside I felt like I was dying...

Everything was hard, and I felt completely isolated and alone even when I was surrounded by people-- even people who loved me.  They couldn't see or understand that I was suffering.
For as long as I can remember, there's been a fighter inside of me. Injustice doesn't upset me, it enrages me and when people around me were (are) being treated unjustly, I would rail against it, stand up and fight.
I am loyal, and I am a defender.  The fight in me made me look tough, maybe even mean sometimes, and I think it made people think I was strong. And maybe in some ways I was, but it didn't mean I didn't hurt when others came against me or treated me unjustly.  But it was rare for someone to stand up and defend me the way I stood up for others.
Looking back now I think they just thought I could handle it, but the personal attacks and maligning of my character was so long lasting and intense, it really beat me down.  Added to a season of unprecedented stress and uncertainty, I just sank deeper and deeper into the pit.
I knew God was with me, reaching out to me even, but I didn't have the wherewithal to reach back.  I couldn't read the word, my prayer life was stagnant, not a bit of worship or connection would rise up and church just became a place I didn't want to be-- twice bitten, completely shied.
For a little while in the fall we attended a church that was like a spiritual lemonade stand for me. Friendly and refreshing, I was able to take a drink and feel briefly refreshed, but it didn't satisfy the thirst, and I knew it wasn't home.  Eventually it wasn't enough to even get out of bed for anymore.  So I didn't.
I think my husband could sense a struggle, but not one to push he just gave me space, not realizing I felt like I was dying right before his eyes.
In addition to my emotional and spiritual pain, my physical body was suffering.  It's all interlinked.  I am someone who eats her emotions and I was self-medicating with sugar and carbs. That was a slippery slope because the more I ate the worse I felt.  Some days I felt so dark that even personal hygiene was too much trouble.  I got to the place that I started thinking about coping with my pain in ways that were completely contrary to my very personality.  But it wasn't even until one of those moments that I realized how much trouble I was in.  It was a terrifying a-ha moment on a Saturday night.
The next morning was Sunday July 21st. I woke up to the sounds of Neal getting ready for the day.  I asked him where he was he going and he told me he was going to make a second visit to a church I had actually recommended and he had previously visited while I was out of town the week before.  "Wanna go with me?" he asked.
Somehow, somewhere, some tiny bit of strength rose up and I said that I would.  I got out of bed, got ready, and we went to church just the two of us. It was too hard to get the kids to go when I'd been setting such a bad example for so long.
For the last few weeks in the darkness before that morning, it felt like the Lord had been trying even harder to get my attention.  I felt like He kept saying the same thing... after months of being given "begged for confirmations" of His presence and provision in my muck, He seemed to have quieted. He was whispering only one thing in those previous few weeks... "Just worship Me."
JUST... I understood the connotation of that word... It wasn't supposed to be about anything He was... or wasn't... DOING, it needed to be just about Who He IS... But I had forgotten how... and had perhaps even lost my "want to." Then one night that week before, I heard Him speak to my spirit just one word, "Exalt."
So I went to church that Sunday morning.  I sat in the back. And I cried privately through worship... not because I was having some big, wonderful spiritual experience, but because I felt like I was in a good church, I knew God's presence was there and all I could think was how much I didn't want to be in a position to let more people into my life.  I didn't want to be open, relational or vulnerable-- and as the tears filled my eyes, I told God so.
Then the Pastor spoke.  He taught from Nehemiah about the importance of celebrating-- giving honor to God.  He said other things too... deeply personal and direct things... things about hurt, betrayal, feeling lost and defeated... He talked about hurts... MY hurts... he even talked about where they'd come from.  Things he couldn't have known, but I KNEW HE knew. 
HIM... the God of the universe was speaking through the pastor that morning, and whoever else he ministered to, he ministered to me... because HE was ministering to me.
I left church that morning feeling just a tiny bit lighter.  There was a chink in the darkness... just a little bit of light seeped in. It was warm, and I hadn't felt that warmth in a long time.  I wanted more if it. So the next morning when I woke up, I got up just enough strength to push back the Monday morning cloud just far enough to roll over and grab my Bible and my journal.  I wanted, for the first time in a long time, to pull myself out of the mud.

To be continued...

x

Abby Johnson's "Unplanned"

After hemming and hawing for the last couple weeks, I decided about 3 days ago to go ahead and go see the movie "Unplanned." It's the story of a woman named Abby Johnson who was the youngest person ever named (at least up to that point) as a director of a Planned Parenthood clinic and how her personal experiences there rocked her world and led to her becoming a very loud and very credible pro-life advocate.

A week ago my husband offered to go see the movie with me.  He said he just wanted to spend time with me and thought perhaps it was a movie I might want to see.  That seems like sort of an likely deduction because (1) I am a huge proponent of supporting Christian made movies with Christian values, and (2) the subject of abortion is something very dear to my heart based on my own experiences.  He was actually a little surprised, I think, when I told him I wasn't all that interested.  We went to dinner instead. 

I didn't really care to see the movie because, in all honesty, back when her story first broke and Abby Johnson first came on the scene of the pro-life "movement" (I hate that term) we had a pretty negative interaction via social media and she didn't like my questions or comments, and her response was to block me.  It ticked me off, and I didn't think it was a very good sign that she could not handle questions from someone who mostly agreed with her.  But in all honesty, I remember it just enough to have a bad taste that lingers in my mouth, not enough to remember exactly what was said.  Maybe I was being a bitch, but honestly I think she was a little too zealous for me, and for me in the area of abortion, everyone requires a LOT of grace. Watching her story and knowing more than what was told in the movie, I can understand her being guarded and intense.

Back to this week, after my hubby brought it up, it kind of stayed with me that perhaps I should consider seeing the movie.  No arrogance intended, but a lot of people in my little world consider me the person they would talk to about the subject of abortion.  I'm vocal, I'm knowledgeable, I'm brave, and I'm compassionate on the subject, and as in most areas, I'm pretty much direct and no BS.  So I thought to myself perhaps I should see the movie so I could speak to it if it came up. 

I decided to invite my daughter along.  She's pro-life; she even had conversations recently at school about it.  It was an interesting exchange with a liberal acquaintance who was actually listening.  My thought on that is that the new laws passing like in New York that now have legalized abortion up to full term are actually rattling some cages, and causing people to question where they actually stand on the issue.  How's that for an unexpected backlash to the pro-abortion agenda (I have no issue with that term at all.)

I just felt in my spirit that my daughter should go along.  I can't even speak to why other than that it was a sense in my spirit, so I asked her, and we agreed to get up early this morning and go see the early bird showing at 9 am.  I had heard that the movie was graphic.  My daughter watches war movies with passion and has no great issue with horror films (though she may watch those between her fingers crossing and covering her eyes.) So my concern for traumatizing her was pretty limited. I felt confident she could handle it. 

The movie is well made.  It doesn't have that substandard, "made on a budget feel" that a lot of Christian movies have.  the acting was solid, there were no side characters that seemed like they had never acted before, it wasn't trite, not a single Christian cliche was uttered. (I swear, I really do like and support Christian movies!)

Some of it was really hard to watch.  Unlike the rest of my family, war movies and horror flicks are not my thing.  I only go when dragged, Though with a lot of war movies, I end up glad I saw them, but I never want to see them again.  My husband on the other hand could watch Saving Private Ryan over and over again-- that one I won't watch even once.  Platoon from the 80s with Charlie Sheen, still haunts me-- glad I saw it, never want to see it again.  Traumatic.

As I watched Unplanned, there were parts where I had to look away.  Blood, gore, realistic portrayals of abortion are there for certain. I don't like gore, but I didn't find it traumatic personally. What I mean by that is that my looking away didn't really have anything to do with having had an abortion myself.  I would look away from the graphic parts, and I would see my daughter covering her eyes and hunkering down a bit.  I got choked up a few times, and I heard her cry too.  I didn't think a lot about that, she is a crier after all. 

What I noticed through the movie as I watched was how familiar it seemed.  From my own experience, I remember angry and violent "pro-life" protesters. I remember the kindness of the escorts. There was a scene where patients were being handed crackers, and I remember thinking, "Oh, they gave us cookies and orange juice."  When the people of authority in the movie did questionable things, I sort of shrugged it off because it was all familiar to me. A lot of it reminded me of things I wrote in my own novel on the subject of abortion.

As the movie ended and Matthew West's song Unplanned began to play over the credits, I decided that I was glad I had seen it, and I was glad I had brought my daughter along.  As we walked out of the theater into the bright sunlight she was sort of quiet.  When we got into the car to drive to the store and then breakfast, the dark cloud over her in the car was evident and strong.  I tried to talk to her, and my typically chatty, talk to me about anything kid was uncharacteristically quiet and stormy. 

She asked me a a few questions-- "Does it really hurt?" Yes, I told her it did.  Then she asked me questions about things I can't answer, because by the grace of God when my parents pressured me into having my abortion 30 years ago I was asleep for the procedure, so unlike many of the women I have ministered to in the last 25 years who are still haunted by those sounds, it was not part of my experience.  I sometimes wonder if that isn't part of why God was able to do such a complete healing in me in a relatively quick amount of time.  My heart hurts for the women who cannot say the same.

The movie hit my daughter very hard.  "I know what abortion is, and I have always been against it, but I didn't KNOW," she said.  She was offended-- not by the movie, but by the truth behind it.  She had a lot of how and why questions that she couldn't settle, and really couldn't even express, nor did she really want to talk about them.  I think she was shocked by a lot of what she saw and learned.

That was the basic difference for us, I think, for me it was all familiar information.  However tragic, violent or vile, it was nothing new to me.  For her, a girl who has grown up in a generation where abortion has constantly been touted as a good thing, an empowering thing, a pro-woman thing... despite her willing rejection of all of that, she still really had no idea what abortion actually was until today.

I am so incredibly glad I took her to see it.  I told my husband I wanted him to see it.  And I texted my 18-year-old son and told him I thought he should see it too, and even take his girlfriend--though I had no idea what her stand on abortion is.  He told me she is pro-life.  I think she should see it anyway.

That's the thing, I told someone just a few days ago, that this movie wasn't really made for the pro-life person to have to see.  If they were already pro-life and not comfortable with anything explicit or gory, then it was probably ok that they not see it. And if someone said to me that they couldn't see it for that reason, I still wouldn't judge, but I absolutely would challenge them to power through and try, because I think it is important.

The pro-life "movement days of the early 90's when there were protests and prayer vigils, 40 day fasts, sit-ins and "life chains" have passed.  In all honesty, I think a lot of "pro-life" people nowadays are in one of two camps-- the still angry legalistic and adamant sect who cannot have a compassionate conversation OR the "I would never have an abortion and I think it's wrong but I would never push my beliefs on anyone else" perspective.  That second group has grown in the last several years out of silence and lack of direction.  People who used to pray, and go to prayer vigils, maybe even stand on a street corner on the Roe v Wade anniversary or march in a March for Life or pray outside a clinic-- they have just sort of lost their passion, and it has softened their conviction... OUR conviction.

I think everyone should see this movie.  I think people who support abortion "in theory", or are against it "in theory" should see this movie and help them find some clarity about why they believe what they believe.  I think people who truly believe abortion is wrong and that life is inherently valuable and begins at conception should see this movie so that maybe that will stoke some smoldering fire in their hearts and bring back the flame of conviction, because all over our cities, babies are dying by abortion every day.  I think those most passionate feminist pro-abortion (beyond choice) advocate should see this movie, because if she (or he) is that certain about how they feel, they shouldn't be afraid to look right into the face of it.

The only ones who I would give a pass to are women who have had abortions themselves and still struggle from the sin and pain of it.  I am NOT saying I don't think they should see it, but I am saying I understand why they wouldn't want to.  But I would also say to them, don't stay there.  Jesus loves you and there is a wealth of healing and forgiveness for you that God wants you to experience and know fully.  There is a better way, and I'm not saying it's in this movie, but I am saying that it can be such a completed work that this movie doesn't have to be something that terrifies you. 

I know this was a lot more than a review, but these are my thoughts walking away from that theater today.  I am really glad I saw the movie, and I hope more people will see it, and it will have a great and powerful impact to help protect the unborn.  Like I said when I wrote my novels, if even one baby is saved, then the movie has served the greatest of purposes. 

The Rhetoric of Abortion (In case you missed the Facebook post)

"My body, my choice."

"Right to choose."

"If men could get pregnant, abortion would be a sacrament."

"Protection from back alley abortions."

"If you don't want an abortion, don't have one."

"No woman can call herself free who does not control her own body."

—Margaret Sanger

It's ALL rhetoric. They are pro-abortion sound bites that have been declared and pronounced ad nauseam so that people pick them up as their mantra and pass it along until these faulty opinions are declared as Truth.

"My body, my choice." - There are lots of pregnancy preventative choices that can be made with your body, however, once a pregnancy occurs, it is no longer just a single woman's body involved. Yes, I realize at the female POTUS candidate likes to point out, an unborn child has no "constitutional rights" which would include "life." However life is not a right that the Constitution can even provide, so how logical is it that law should govern what God and nature provide. Life's value is inherent, not determined by want.

"Right to choose." - The REALITY is that abortion is a single choice that ends all other choices. If a woman decided to have an abortion, there is no "what else." You have the mother of a dead baby, period, end of story. However, when a woman chooses to give life, choices become unending. Keep the baby or give the baby up for adoption. In adoption a woman can choose open adoption to stay connected or closed adoption to move on with her life. That leads to the choice to reconnect or not reconnect later in life. If she keeps the baby she can choose to continue her education, postpone it or move her life in a different direction. Choosing to be a mother is not a tragedy. Choosing to be a birth mother is not a tragedy. With life comes an incredible amount of possibility.

"If men could get pregnant, abortion would be a sacrament." - Please, stop trying to pretend that protecting unborn babies is a priority only to a bunch of crotchety old men who just one to tie a woman to a stove and oppress her into some imagined substandard existence as a housewife and "baby machine." It's ridiculous to discredit the large population of pro-life people, INCLUDING women who believe abortion is wrong.

"Protection from back alley abortions." - Legalizing abortion has not made it fail-proof and completely safe. First of all the number of deaths and complications from "back alley abortions" before Roe is highly overstated. It was not the epidemic it was declared to be. And the reality is that abortion is STILL a complicated and potentially dangerous blind procedure that can cause harm to the woman (in addition to the unborn baby.) Abortion not only puts a woman's future fertility in jeopardy, but maternal death is a real risk from unremoved body parts that can cause infection as well as perforating the uterus and potentially other organs as well.

"If you don't want an abortion, don't have one." - First of all this dismisses that the pro-life viewpoint is NOT concerned with infringing on the sovereignty of the woman's body, it is concerned with the protection of the tiny unborn human being who is unable to speak up for his or herself. We take issue with that child being sacrificed at the altar of convenience. Again, the actual necessity of abortion for a mother's physical health is less than 5% of abortions performed and was NEVER illegal even before Roe v Wade. However the rarity of abortion being a solution to a mother's health issue is again, minimal. As for the topic of rape, that too is a very small portion of abortions performed that the pro-abortion supporters life to stick their flags upon and it is a teeny tiny hill. Pregnancy from rape is not a very frequent occurrence. As for me, I do not believe the child should have to suffer the consequences of his or her father's crimes. Also there are studies that indicate that women who have babies from rapes find it can be very healing and redemptive, where as the act of abortion after a rape can increase their trauma.

""No woman can call herself free who does not control her own body." - Margaret Sanger

Margaret Sanger, the original great proponent of "abortion rights" was a racist who advocated for abortion in order to eliminate/ reduce the births of minority babies. She had an agenda she sought to accomplish through abortion, and it was about oppression, not freedom. The reality is that abortion is NOT a liberating experience. It is not the "simple procedure" it is made out to be. Women, inherently, have been gifted with the ability to "create" and sustain life, and when a woman goes against God and nature, it is not simple. Hundreds of thousands of women every year find out after the fact that they have been lied to and deceived, that abortion was not "as easy as having a tooth pulled." They realize too late after the fact that it is a decision that cannot be unmade, and many women will live with the rest of their lives a regret that cannot be remedied. Another baby will not replace an aborted child, for women who find their fertility compromised they will mourn their only opportunity to be a mother with the biological experience attached, and for every baby aborted there is a mother out there somewhere who would have willingly loved and raised the life that was sacrificed at the altar of convenience and fear.

Planned Parenthood and other abortion services are a business. They thrive on the opportunity to appeal to fear and uncertainty in women with an unexpected. unplanned pregnancy. They are the ones who make what has been "unplanned" and turned it into a crisis. It doesn't have to be a crisis. It can and ought to be simply a fork in the road. Sadly it has been proclaimed that the right is necessary because we no longer believe in personal responsibility. Pregnancy is in fact completely preventable, but we are reduced to being labeled as irresistible urges. Abstinence works. I grant that not all will choose it, actually giving into urges, and that's FINE, but birth control as well is HIGHLY effective in preventing pregnancy. I would dare say that the 15 minutes and a drive to the drug store would be a better gamble than risking the likelihood of an unwanted pregnancy. We ARE and should ACT AS more than biological urges.

There is no freedom found in abortion. As most of you well know, I do not speak from a place of judgment, I speak from a place of experience. I have been through the system and business that is abortion. And yeas, I have heard "You had one, why deny someone else?" And I tell you that is because I can tell you with certainty and experience that no one involved in "helping" me "exercise my right" cared about me. They lied to me about the process, tried to keep me in the dark about what the procedure actually was ("product of conception" and "lump of cells" are LIES.) In my case I accidentally SAW the ultrasound of my pre-born baby, and I watched their panic as they tried to hide it from me. (I didn't fully understand until several years later when pregnant with my son, after my first of 2 subsequent miscarriages) what I was looking at. I also saw their "compassionate care" change from before the procedure to their assembly line hurry to get their "patients" (for whom they no longer have patience) out the door and out of the way.

I implore you, look past the rhetoric and visit factual information - medical information first and foremost, and please realize this is so much more than a political issue. One could suggest that a society is defined by the way it treats the weak, the voiceless, the helpless. Abortion is a wicked black mark on what our society has become. The reality is that from the beginning the "snowball" has continued to roll, from early term abortion (though I do not find that justified) to later and later allowances as well as the absolutely barbaric act of partial-birth abortion. There are advocates and arguers who believe that even after an infant is born it should theoretically not be considered a person with rights and still be candidates for termination. Others want to see this extended to the mentally and physically handicapped and you cannot unlink the subject of abortion from euthanasia as well. It is indeed a slippery slope and momentum DOES continue to move forward.

The right to LIFE has ceased to become a core value in our nation, and we need to educate ourselves and stand against that.

"It is a poverty to decide that a child must die so that you may live as you wish." - Mother Teresa

"We must not be surprised when we hear of murders, of killings, of wars, of hatred. If a mother can kill her own child, what is left but for us to kill each other." - Mother Teresa