Friday, January 21, 2005

Happy Friday, Sad Saturday

I am rejoicing in every hunger pang, every instance of light-headedness. Every time I am reminded of my lack of food intake, I also remember to say another prayer to end abortion in the United States. 45 million babies erased, destroyed, there and then suddenly not there. Forty-five million. 45,000,000.

On this day, 32 years ago, babies were still protected in most states. A tiny baby swimming about in the womb was a baby on January 21, 1973. The next day, that same baby was a "choice." Scary stuff. Unimaginably horrible and tragic too. If you can stomach it, link to this site and read for yourself how the wanton destruction of humans destroys our humanity:

Everyone in the U.S. who thinks it's okay to support abortion should read this account. When abolitionists wanted to end the horror of slavery in the United States, they had an incredible weapon in the struggle - testimony from slaves and former slaves. The unborn do not have voices to tell of the cruel way their limbs are torn from them, their brains liquidated, their bones crushed and vacuumed out of the home where they should have been so safe and warm and guarded. All they have are the brave workers in abortion mills who dare to tell their stories, and the incredible pro-life activists who have risked arrest and derision to capture this mutilation on film and show it to the world. I've been next to these brave souls who hold signs portraying poor little babies ripped to pieces by a scalpel or mummified by saline solution. People yell and scream profanities at them for daring to show what abortion is, what abortion does. They are appalled and disgusted (rightly so) by these portraits of man's ultimate inhumanity toward man, but, instead of resolving to end this horror, they abuse pro-lifers as "sick" or "disturbed." Incredible how far into denial people will go to avoid putting themselves in the midst of a controversial issue. Better to close your eyes, turn your head, plug your ears and harden your heart; after all, you are already born.

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