Hollywood has ruined us. No, not for the usual reasons - which are pretty obvious; but for something else - something more... normal. It has given us a false image of how lives are ruined, and how families die.
I watched a new movie last night; it was the same type of Hollywood story - the big brother with a dazzling ballplayer career pending, the little brother drunk and causing an accident. Big brother loses the use of his hand, little brother is not heard from for 20 years. The family dies - emotionally. This makes for 'edge of the seat' angst. But it doesn't much make for reality.
In Hollywood, 'family death' is always something big; something unforeseen; something so 'out of our control'.
But that's not how relationships die. They don't die by drastic tragedies at the speed of sound. They die by mundane words, or lack of them. They die by small actions, or lack of them. They die, in essence, by inches.
You know why drownings are so terrifying? Because they are so quiet. They are also so easy. The phone rings, the toddler is left in the bath for 'just a minute'. The gate is left open by mistake, the pond is next door and the screen has a tear in it... Easy. We could see it coming any second - and because of that - we don't see it coming.
No, we've grown to believe (and to reassure ourselves) that it is a huge catastrophe that ends things. That way, as long as we're not causing houses to blow up, knives to be thrown, lamps to be smashed - we're okay. People (and relationships) will stay alive, we will have yet another day... I mean, how could it be as quiet and simple as 'the gate left open'?
But that actually IS how relationships die. Yet another late night at the office; surely the wife/husband/child will understand. Or one more committee to chair, with resultant meetings - surely those dear to you will applaud your dedication to duty. Or that co-worker who is so witty; surely there's no harm to your marriage in just hanging out with him/her. Or your teenager who doesn't seem to really want to be around you; surely it's perfectly fine to let him/her spend hours on their own on the phone/at the mall/on the computer. Or your brother/sister/grown child who just plain irritates you; surely they'll 'get the joke' when you needle them at the family holiday. You 'tease' them, about their job, their kids, their faith, their politics, their beliefs and so on. Soon they come to the family dinners less and less. One day they just don't come at all.
Death by inches.
The list is endless; but it's there.
And it's so 'normal'.
And then one day you wake up and find that nobody loves anyone anymore. The little hurts have added up so high that they are like a mountain to get around. And who trusts anybody to really try to 'get around' them anyway? It's been years since it seemed like he/she cared - what's to start it now?
But the grace in all this is that the opposite is also true. Once again, if you look, you can see the Hand of God in this design. For families that grow healthy and strong don't need super human effort either. You needn't win the lottery, buy the brand new car, be a rock star. All you need do is be there. Listen, laugh, love - and forgive. There can even be a lot of mistakes mixed in - families don't care so much as long as there is honesty, humility, and love. Heck, admitting your own mistakes just might ensure that they feel even safer around you; since they won't worry so much about making some of their own...
Families, relationships, and love grow - by inches also. We needn't have a rocket ship to zoom to perfection. Inches are just fine.
The nicest thing, actually, about the reality of inches is that if you fall - you haven't fallen so far after all. And if you advance ahead - it's never so stupendous as to blind you with pride. And if you want to try to win it back - it's not overwhelming. It's inches - slow, steady growth. Small actions that gradually build lives, and relationships, back up. Nothing spectacular, nothing superhuman - just mundane. Just usual, just typical, just normal.
And that seems to be the best measurement of all.
Why do we justify people making the easy choices, instead of encouraging them to make the hard?
They sat across from me; faces filled with yearning, and hope. They were, they claimed, 'in love'. They had been 'in love' in high school, but the world took them on different paths and they lost touch. Each had met another, fallen in love, and married. Each had gone on to have several children. But they were each sure - now - that they had never forgotten their 'real, true' love.
And then, miraculously, their paths crossed once again. "It was like destiny!", they exclaimed as they shared a happy glance, "we knew that we had never stopped loving each other!" The only problem, it seemed, was that they - now - each had to tell their respective spouses - and all of their children - that the happy home and family they had based their lives upon - was coming to an end.
But really, really, they asked me, "don't we deserve to be happy"?
They had come to me, a divorce lawyer, for advice. How best to move forward, how best to tell their spouses, how best to move on to their happy new life?
I paused. The room grew silent. And still they waited.
I had seen this story before. In all my years as a divorce lawyer, I had almost never met someone needing a divorce due to a truly abusive spouse. It was always because they were "not happy", "not fulfilled", "in love with someone else", "changed and grown apart" - the list went on and on - yet the list only ever seemed to have them in the starring role - and their spouse as the 'bad guy'. Everyone else seemed to fade in the distance.
Their happiness, THEIR LIFE! Didn't they deserve it??!!
And once again, as this young couple sat and waited, I myself had a choice.
Do I justify the easy decision, or encourage the hard?
Since I am a Christian, and since I know that this life is NOT the main deal - I went with the hard...
I told them that I had heard a lot of talk about them; but not much talk about their children - or their respective spouses.
"Oh," they gushed, "we LOVE our children!"
"Then why," I asked them, "are you choosing to destroy their lives?"
That's not what they had planned to hear, I gathered.
I continued. I pointed out that every divorce I had witnessed ended up with shattered children. The studies and statistics are there. Children recover better from the death of a parent - then a divorce. A divorce sets them on a totally different trajectory through life. Before the divorce, they believe that everything is possible - you can get through it. After the divorce, they no longer hold that belief. Better to cut and run while the runnings good - was the new mantra. It was a mantra that set them up for relationship failure, and struggle, for years to come.
Knowing this, I used to try to talk to all of my clients. I would tell them that what they were essentially saying was that the difficulties in their marriage - the anger, the loneliness, the lack of love, the hurt - all of these things were too difficult for them to carry any longer. And so, instead of bearing that burden and trying to fix it, they were turning..... and handing it to their children. "Here," they were saying, "this is too tough for me - you take it."
But, I always warned them, children do not have the tools we have, to deal with the feelings that we struggle with. "You will no longer be unhappy," I would say, "but your child will. And that unhappiness will begin to show. Soon, you will be unhappy again - because your child's life will be imploding. And whereas it is in your own power now to fix your unhappiness - you will be powerless then - to fix theirs..."
I once heard a young adult claim that his parents divorced because they were so angry at each other, that they walked around the house all the time, slamming doors. "What I think" he said, "is that they could have learned to stop slamming doors easier ..... than I learned to be a child of divorce."
I would frequently hear from my prior clients a couple, or a few, years later. "Help!" they would exclaim, "my child is a mess! Our life is a living hell! What can I do??!!" And I would gently remind them of what I had said before.
Reality and truth, it seems, sucks. Especially when we choose to ignore it.
But now I sat with this couple before me - so hopeful, so excited, so 'in love again!'. I knew, however, that they were also Christians - and so I finished with a reminder. "God has given you one job. One. And that is the job He will hold you accountable for. It is the job of raising your children... I want you to first decide what you will say to Him when you stand before Him at the end of your life - and then I want you to decide if you think all these excuses are going to fly. THEN make your decision."
They, like so many before them, left. They were no longer friendly. They were no longer happy. Once again, it appeared, my words had fallen on deaf ears.
We moved away a few years after that. But a short time before we moved, Sarah, a woman in my church, approached me one day after Mass. I didn't know her well - aside from small talk - and so I was surprised when she pulled me aside to speak in private. Suddenly, she asked if I remembered the couple who had sat before me on that day long before. I said that I did. She looked at me then, and smiled.
"I just want you to know," she said, "that you saved 2 families that day."
The couple had apparently talked over what I said to them, and decided that they couldn't justify destroying their two families for their own happiness. Completely heartbroken, they decided to take the energy and excitement they had toward building a new life - and use it instead to rebuild the old. They realized that there was obviously something that had attracted them to their spouse enough to marry him or her in the first place. It was up to them - the ones who had 'lost' that attraction - to go back and find it. That was their responsibility - not their spouses.
In essence, they decided to set their 'Will', and then act upon it. Since it was their 'will', they could place it wherever they wanted - and feelings had nothing to do with that.
'Wills' are most easily seen in toddlers. Try to get them to do something that is against their will - and you are in for wholesale warfare! In fact, the entire point of 'growing up' is to learn how to set our 'will' toward the good of all, and not only our own selfish aims and desires. It is, actually, to stop acting like a toddler, and begin to act like an adult. Setting our 'will' involves using our reason to discern the good of each situation - and then taking the actions to secure it - regardless of what our vacillating feelings tell us at any one point in time.
Today, our culture has stopped reminding itself of this. We're told to go with our feelings and ignore our reason. We're told to do what 'feels good' - notwithstanding the fact that what 'feels good' changes every second.... As a result, it often seems as though we have become a nation of toddlers - since so few have learned the marks of adulthood; i.e. the ability to set our 'will'. It is the reason why we often seem to live such powerless, pitiful, and often pointless, lives.
This young couple, however, used their reason, and, realizing what they had to do, they each went their separate ways, notwithstanding how devastated emotionally they were with their decision. True to their 'wills' , they never saw each other again.
Yet, not surprisingly, over time they both grew to love their spouses once again, and soon they each wondered what in the world they had been thinking. They were so very grateful, Sarah told me, that I had kept them from making the worst decision of their lives...
She then told me that she was a dear and trusted friend of this couple - and the only one they had confided in back then. She alone knew, and knowing I was moving away, she wanted me to know also.
"Six children's lives were saved that day." she repeated, "Your words saved the lives of all those children, and the homes of two families. I just thought that you should know."
And so, I once again ask myself:
Why do we justify people making the easy choices, instead of encouraging them to make the hard...?
The hard choice is always the best, yet also the most difficult for us to recommend - since it usually results in us becoming unpopular, or unloved, or disliked, or ridiculed, or at times, even ostracized...
Then again, come to think of it - perhaps I've discovered the answer to my question after all.
Have you ever broken your leg? Well, if not, try to remember a time when you hurt yourself. REALLY hurt yourself. Now...
How anxious were you to let someone probe that wound?
Though I have not (thank God) broken a leg, I did fall off my bike when I was little and doing 'zig-zags' on sandy pavement. (Interestingly, the pain that followed that ignorant action has kept me from ever repeating it again - but that's another blog post...) I hit my forehead and WHACK - blood was everywhere. The cut was so deep that it needed stitches. But before they could just stitch me up, they had to probe that wound and get all the dirt out.
Do you think I just laid there quietly and let them do it? If you do, then I don't think you've ever whacked your head falling off a bike before. NO. It took my mom AND the nurse to hold me down. Someone else had to hold my head still. And even so I screamed bloody murder the whole time.
Pain hurts. That's a universal truth. We don't want that pain touched. That's another universal truth. But it is in touching it, and cleaning it out - that we get healing. Another universal truth - but one denied a lot these days...
What's the big deal, you might wonder? Well, imagine if, instead of helping someone to set their broken leg - a doctor just said "oh well, that is the way you are, learn to accept it." The doctor, nurse and everyone else who might have had to go through the difficulty of holding you down and listening to you scream, while they pulled on your leg to set the bone straight, are now... off the hook. They can just throw a crutch at you, and tell you to go on home. Problem solved.
But is it really? They can go home feeling justified in the 'help' they gave you; but you just go home.... still wounded. Who suffers? The one who is wounded. Who, though, is really at fault? Those who simply don't care enough to nurse you back to health. That 'nursing stuff' is tough business - it's usually a thankless, long and bloody affair; rarely appreciated, always difficult.
But it heals.
Had my mom just thrown a bandaid on my head, she could have used that as a excuse and felt justified. "Well," she could have righteously claimed, "I did the best I could, why put her through the pain of cleaning out that wound?" In her own mind, she might have convinced herself that she had done 'enough' - but not in anyone else's. Once that cut had gotten infected, leading to worst wounding and permanent scarring, all would have known she took the easy way out - and so would she - in her heart. It's when our hearts know the truth however, that we tend to shout all the louder that we are 'justified' - after all, we have to convince our heads ... and the world.
These are easy examples. It gets tougher when the wounds are not so physically visible. Although the universal truths remain the same - it becomes easier to ignore them - and taking the 'easy way out' can at times become a cultural norm. This is, of course, not something new. Over 2,600 years ago there was a man pointing out the same tendency. His name was Jeremiah.
“"They have healed the brokenness of My people superficially, Saying, 'Peace, peace,' But there is no peace.” Jeremiah 6:14
Commentary on his words explain them as thus: “As worthless surgeons the (religious) leaders refuse to examine or probe the wounds of those who are under their charge, and for the sake of their own ease assure their patients that all is well.”
What 'wounds' was Jeremiah talking about? Was there an outpouring of broken legs? Were kids falling off their bikes in record numbers?
No. The people were being told that there was nothing wrong with their actions, all was well, they need not seek a higher way to live, they need to simply be... comfortable in their sin. Why seek wholeness? Why seek purity? Good enough... is good enough. Let's just move on - shall we?
And what was their sin? Well, it was many things - same as today - but at the root it was just one. And that one was this: They were no longer looking to God to guide and heal them; they had determined that they could do just fine on their own.
Isn't that the basis of all our sins? Let's look at a few:
We feel insecure.
Instead of looking to our worth in the eyes of God (hint: worth dying for), we make ourselves feel better by gossiping about, and putting down, others.
We've done something we know is wrong.
Instead of looking to God for strength to face the truth and confess it, we decide that some well placed lies will get us off the hook instead.
We've been unjustly abused.
Instead of asking God to heal the pain we rage against, we just let that pain out little by little when we rage against someone (usually weaker) else.
In fact, so much of our sin is found in trying to heal our own wounds. We live in a broken world - we will be cut on the broken edges of broken people.
That is not our sin - but this is: Trusting only in ourselves to heal ourselves. So we look for ways. Those ways, however, only come out in more brokenness. A broken car can not fix itself. A broken sidewalk can not mend its own cracks. We can not heal our own wounds - only God can. In fact, when we try, it leaves the same time-worn results: addictions, dependencies (to created things, not God), sexual brokenness, anger, rage, depression, and ultimately - death.
For when we turn away from the Giver of Life - common sense tells us that there is only one other direction to go - and it is the opposite of Life, the enemy of Life, the destroyer of Life. It is Death.
Several years ago someone I love a great deal developed a problem. It started when she got in with the 'wrong crowd' and the 'wrong crowd' convinced her to walk down a different road. Along the way, this road led to brokenness that came out in anorexia. She and her friends shared the same symptoms, and, thank God, the same possibilities of healing. The differences came in how they were treated. Her friends' loved ones thought that they would just 'grow out of' it. Some believed it was 'no big deal' - don't all young girls diet? Most spent some time lecturing, punishing, nagging - and then went on with their busy schedules, their work commitments, their hectic lives.
My husband and I thought it was more important than that. We thought the person we loved was more important than that. We thought she was worth the effort - to heal her. We sold what we had, left what we could not carry, and moved with her to another place where she could find the healing she needed. She screamed, she kicked, she fought - she, plain and simply, hated us. But we didn't care. It wasn't a popularity contest - it was a life. And it was a life of someone we loved. Today she is happy and healthy. When you look at her, unlike her friends, you don't see any scars from untreated wounds. You see wholeness, you see health, you see life, you see healing.
I hear a lot these days about the courage of those who support wounded people who struggle with symptoms of sexual brokenness. (For some reason, much like the Canaanites who also worshiped Baal (the god of sex) we have grown to encourage 'acceptance' of sexual brokenness - but no other brokenness. We don't tell anorexics to get liposuction and move on with their lives. (Nor do we punish people who refuse to accept anorexia as just another 'lifestyle choice'.) We seem to have enough sense left to say, "Well that's just plain stupid." But we are oddly blinded when it comes to sex. Almost - one would think - like we have become spiritually blind... Go figure.) The President of the United States was just applauded for using the words LBGT in his State of the Union address! How far we've come! Or have we? Somehow, I don't think Jeremiah would think so.
I think he would call it for what it is - cowardice.
In my long, slow and painful walk with the person I loved back to wholeness, I was introduced to Christian Healing Ministry. In this ministry I met other wounded people - many of whom's wounds came out in sexual brokenness. These people used to identify as LBGT before finding healing. Now they just identify as healed, whole people. They have reclaimed the sexual attraction that we are all born with - one oriented to the opposite sex.
It is possible. But you have to have someone in your life who loves you enough to let you hate them. If they are more concerned with being popular, than you will be told to celebrate your wounds - and remain in them.
Our culture, like Jeremiah's so long ago, has become so superficial and lazy that we have made a cottage industry of 'wound celebration'. In fact, if you are one of the few who continue to insist that wounds are not supposed to be permanent, and that they can, in fact, be healed - then you had better watch out for some serious persecution. Human rights commissions, the media, courts, politicians and a whole host of others lie in wait for anyone, anywhere, to advance the truth that sin is sin and it separates us from ourselves - and God. Faster than that person can say, "Gotcha", jobs are lost, fines are levied and people are silenced. For it is a dangerous thing when we harden our hearts. Deep inside, our hearts - and we - still know the truth. And as we've seen before - the only way to get around denying what we know in our hearts to be true - is to shout loud enough to convince our heads... and the world.
And that, of course, leads to this:
"An appalling and horrible thing has happened in the land;
the prophets prophesy falsely, and the priests rule at their direction;
my people love to have it so, but what will you do when the end comes?" Jeremiah 5:30-31
Nowadays, Jeremiah would feel right at home.
I have a sister who dislikes us. In fact, that is probably not the word she would use. She would probably say, "I hate them." The "them" is us - her siblings, her family. I guess I should explain why.
It began when she was born. I was so excited to have a baby sister 8 years younger, that I brought my entire class home with me the day my mother arrived back from the hospital. I was ecstatic. I'd like to say that my exhausted mom was also ecstatic - when 25 1st graders traipsed through her bedroom to see 'the baby' - but this is not a fictional tale.
My sister was 7 years younger than the last of the original 4 kid pack - let's just say that she was not neglected. For fun, we would all lie down in a row and she would walk on top of us, giggling. Perhaps we should have seen where this was going.
I spent my childhood, from 8 on, caring for my sister. We shared a room, and everywhere I went - she went too. She was the light of my (painfully shy) life, and it brightened my days. When I went off to college, I sent her flowers each year on her first day of school so that she would not feel alone. When home on vacation, I acted as the assistant coach of her softball teams. I ran her to lessons, stood up to mean coaches and teachers, helped her fight her teenage battles.
Fast forward several years and I found myself a young Navy wife far from home in California. My sister was now in college, having, it appeared, too good of a time. She developed a cocaine problem. My parents shipped her across country to me. Clueless as to what to do, I spent a long couple weeks holed up in my house caring for her and my newborn baby; while she went through detox. She was furious at me because I kept insisting she could get better; because I refused to just let her give up. Some time later, she finally traveled back home - ready to begin again.
The next few years were exciting ones for her; she fell in love, married and began a family. When she needed a helping hand - her siblings and/or parents were there for her. Her oldest sister took her under her wing, showing her how to care for children, how to set up a home. These things don't come easily - they need nurturing. Her father and brothers lent their back on way too many occasions helping her and her family move from place to place. Her mother became her best 'shopping buddy'.
After we moved back home and I opened my law office, I went out on a limb to try to get her the farm she always wanted. A developer wanted it too, but this was, after all, the farm my sister had always dreamed of having. The whole family came out to help her clear the fields, put up the fences, fix up the house. The future was bright.
But then the animals kept on coming, and her husband could only work so many hours a week (about 80?) to pay for them all. Who knew she had an addiction to animals? The more pitiful, the more she loved them. The vet bills grew, along with the dangers from wild horses; obtained because no one else wanted them. There were the frequent hospital trips - for her and the children. Before long, she was on some pretty strong pain killers for the countless injuries she had gotten from the animals. Nonetheless, against our advice, against doctors' advice, against everyone's advice - the animals continued coming. Soon, she began calling me for money. First it was the taxes, then it was the mortgage. There was always a reason. Slowly I began to realize that she did not have a money problem - she had a spending problem. And I was not helping her deal with either of them.
And so I began telling her the truth.
I was, therefore, the first one in our family that she grew to 'hate'.
Fast forward a few more years and slowly, one by one, we all have fallen out of favor with our sister. The animal addiction led to drug addiction, which led to criminal actions, which led to arrests, which led - eventually - to jail. All throughout, it has been her family she has turned to for help. Her siblings are several thousands of dollars in the hole from posting bail money she never repaid. And her parents? Their retirement savings accounts are all gone - stolen by the child they loved the most. Now in their elder years - and needing money for their own care - they are hard pressed to come up with it.
And yet. Yet we continue to hope, we continue to tell her we care, we continue to love her - to want her well. She continues to tell everyone else how horrid we are; how hateful we are; how selfish we are. And, of course, how we've "never done anything" for her... Mostly, of course, she just ignores us - she goes off for days, weeks, maybe months at a time - and we have no idea where or how she is. We just know - that as long as she remains in this lifestyle - she is not well.
But isn't this us? Isn't it my story too? Isn't it all of ours?
And, in fact, are we not a million times worse? The answer, of course, would be yes. Because, you see, this is how we treat God. My sister, at least, has an excuse. I am human, and so I have let her down many, many, many times. My own sin has too often entered in where God's love should have; and hence, she is rightly angered at my failures. She is justified in her hatred.
But what about God?
I was reading Isaiah today where the Lord lists His litany of complaints against His people. He has given them life, He has given them health, He has given them blessings, He has given them.... the list goes on and on. And then He points out how they have responded. They have turned from Him, they have slandered His name, they have sinned with abandon, they have.... hated Him.
Has anything changed since Isaiah's day? God surely has not. In fact, has He ever done wrong to me personally, to any of us? And yet we avoid Him, we neglect Him, we even accuse Him of not caring.
I wake up these days, and I look at the temperature first thing. It's cold out there. Is my sister on the street? When I drive home, I watch my wipers clear cold dreary rain off my windshield. Is she warm? Is she dry? Is she safe? The daylight fades and the darkness envelops my world while I anxiously worry - is she inside? Is that man she was last seen with still beating her? Is she all alone?
And worst of all - Does she think no one loves her? Does she think no one cares? Does her heart, deep inside, just want to go home and no longer know how?
My sister hates us, me most specifically according to those who know, and yet... And yet each morning my first thoughts are about her well being. My last words are a prayer of protection for her for yet another day. I plead with God on a continual basis - keep her safe, keep her close to You, lead her home. No matter what she has done - I have never stopped loving, my heart has never stopped breaking.
Do I love more than God loves? Does His heart break less than mine? I don't think so.
My sister at least is honest. She is pointing out the hypocrisy, the sin, in my own heart - the sin in all of ours. God loves, and we hate. God beckons, and we ignore. God instructs, and we ridicule.
God loves, and we hate.
May He have mercy on my sister - May He have mercy on us.
It was a big conversation in the lunchroom the other day, the book “50 Shades of Gray”, and somehow, I began to think about Ted Bundy…
When I was in law school, I did a research report on pornography, which led me to Ted Bundy. This was in 1981, long before ’50 Shades’ of anything. Now I knew at the time that pornography was bad, simply because – like the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court had earlier remarked – “we know it when we see it”. I was also opposed to pornography because, as a fanatic Feminist – I knew how much it devalued women in general. In fact, back then EVERYONE knew that. However, I had had no idea exactly how evil it was, or how corrosive it could be to a person and to a culture.
There is now a new generation of young adults in our land, and apparently none have heard the story of Ted Bundy. Perhaps it would be a good idea, and an opportune time, to share it.
Ted Bundy had grown up like any other boy in America, except that when he was still pretty young, he began getting ahold of pornography. Looking at the pictures, and reading the stories, excited him to the point where he began seeking women to satisfy himself. Since the supply of ‘easy women’ was much less back then, than it is now, he began being more aggressive in that pursuit. When he was with women, he also began physically harming them. This, of course, was long before “50 Shades of Gray” when people did not think that ‘hurting someone to satisfy yourself’ was simply another lifestyle choice. They called it something else. They called it evil.
Needless to say, Ted Bundy’s ‘urges’ got more and more out of control. The things he began doing to women were not things that women would simply ‘get over’. They were things that they would go to the police and get him arrested for. Did he stop? No, he just began killing them.
Ted Bundy was a brilliant, and handsome, young man – much like the character in “50 Shades of Gray”. He was in law school, and so argued his way out of pretty much everything he was accused of. He left Washington State, and relocated in Florida – but he did not leave his evil tendencies behind. They got even more out of control until the fateful night when he crept into a Sorority House at Florida State University, and abused and slaughtered the women while they slept in their beds. One of his last victims, before he was finally tracked down and arrested, was a very young girl. He raped her with a knife.
I remember giving my argument in law school as I presented this paper opposed to pornography. I mentioned Bundy’s last victim and one of the young men in my class pointed out that I had made a mistake. “What you mean,” he said, “was that he raped her ‘at knife-point’.”
“No,” I corrected him, “he raped her using a knife instead of his penis. She bled to death of the wounds.”
So much for the joys of bondage and S&M – admirers of “50 Shades of Gray” notwithstanding the fact.
Ted Bundy was eventually found guilty of multiple murders and placed on death row. A brilliant attorney – he argued his own case. He had many admirers who protested his innocence. Surely such a charming and handsome young man could not be the brutal savage the Prosecutors painted!
He continued to maintain his innocence to the end – almost.
For it was shortly before his execution, when he surprisingly asked to have an interview with Dr. James Dobson of the radio show “Focus on the Family”. Dr. Dobson, a well respected and well known Christian, was a very odd choice; but being a Christian, he agreed to meet with Bundy.
I think that even he was unprepared for what Bundy told him.
Bundy, finally, admitted to what he had done. Now that the end was near, he had had time to reflect on the monster he had become, and so he wanted to give a warning out to the world. The warning was this – it all began with pornography.
Bundy told of his years of seeking out pornography. He said that as his perversions grew, he would begin acting them out on women and leaving them hurting. Inevitably, he said, he would feel remorse afterward. And then…..
Then, he said, he would go get some more pornography, and in the stuff he was reading, people were doing even worst things. That’s what helped him get over the guilt. He figured that if people were writing about it – then obviously others must not feel it is so bad, and so he would get over that guilt hurdle, and go on to a bigger perversion…
The reason he was telling all this to Dr. Dobson, he relayed, was because when he was growing up – getting ahold of those kinds of materials was NOT easy. He would have to go into the foulest pits in the worst sections of town to find it. BUT, he now pointed out to Dobson – that stuff is available in regular stores! How easy it is for someone to just go, and get a hold of such poison...
He finished with a word of warning to Dobson. He told him that America – was now breeding people just like him – and nobody had any idea what evil we were doing.
Ted Bundy was executed in 1989.
This was long before the actors on the television show ‘Friends’ convinced a nation that sex without responsibility, or commitment, was ‘a good thing’. Our nation loves those actors today, their reruns continue to play to great laughter and joy - but I pray for them, because when they stand before God, they will have the lost and damaged souls of millions, perhaps billions, of once innocent young people to atone for… That’s a pretty heavy burden to drag to eternity, don’t you think?
Even so, the damage is done, and we are now a nation that has fallen so far from purity that a book about – pretty much the lifestyle of Ted Bundy – is ‘entertaining reading’ for practically everyone. No one seems to think it is evil, no one seems to think it is wrong, no one seems to be concerned about the sick images they are putting FOREVER into their brains.
Just another day in America, just another topic over lunch.
But there ARE those of us who remember a different America. In that America, if you ever did read such a book – the last thing in the world you would want is for someone to know about it!
Good people did not read pornography. Good people did not think pornography. Good people had high, and thick, walls to protect them, their families, and their culture from the evil of pornography. Good people knew it was bad – they ‘knew it when they saw it’, and they knew it did not lead to happiness – it led to death.
I once represented a woman who was divorcing her husband over pornography. He had been a regular ‘soccer dad’, coach to their 3 young children and upstanding man in town. And then they got a computer in the house, and he got ‘hooked’ on pornography. Worst still, he got hooked on the kind of pornography glorified in “50 Shades of Gray”. I find it kind of ironic that somehow everyone always looks good in these books and portrayals – but then again, they can – since it’s fiction and not reality.
Let me tell you what reality looks like. This father had moved out of the family home after meeting another S&M devotee ‘on line’. I had seen pictures of him before, when he had been in the family photo – a loving dad and husband.
I did not recognize the creature that walked into the courthouse conference room as the same man.
Do you know the images that are always trotted out at Halloween – the specters of evil; thin, hunched over and oozing blackness? THAT was what walked into the courthouse conference room. This once smiling, radiant man was thin as a rail. He had body piercings all over, evil tattoos covering his skin, sunken eyes and cheeks, a coldness to his demeanor. He walked in pain, and even when speaking, seemed far away in another world.
He had come to personify evil – since, of course, his lifestyle was evil.
THAT is the reality of "50 Shades of Gray".
I just thought it was about time that someone let the rest of the world know.
TODAY is All Soul's Day -the day we honor our beloved Dead by praying for them. I figured it was as good a time as any to repeat this story that happened to me...
At the time this story happened, Ashley was about 10 years old, Bobby was about 6, Katie was about 4 and Maryjacqueline was about 1. We had neighbors who lived across the street by the name of Laura and Joe Carlson. They had a daughter Hannah, who played with Ashley, and so we knew them fairly well. Laura’s parents were both retired and lived in the same town. Their grandchildren called them ‘Oma’ and ‘Opa’. Laura’s mother was born in Poland, and married Laura’s dad when he was a young soldier in WW2.
Oma was the oldest of about 13 children and probably around 16 years old when Hitler’s bombs fell on her city. In the resulting panic and confusion, the entire family was split up. Oma spent the rest of the war going from refugee camp to refugee camp looking for her siblings. By the end of the war she had found every one – including her mother and the baby – and she managed to keep the family together. She met Opa after the war, married and came to the US. Laura was their only child.
A few years before I met Laura, Oma had come down with breast cancer. She was close to death when her siblings in Poland pleaded with her to come back and visit them. Laura and she went to the doctor for permission for Oma to travel. The doctor refused to give his consent; but nonetheless, Oma was determined to go. The doctor told Laura that she better be prepared for her mother to return home in a wooden box.
Oma landed in Europe, and her siblings immediately bundled her up and took her to the miraculous waters of Lourdes, France. Oma continued to spend the next few months there – visiting with all of her many family members. At the end of her visits, she flew back home. Once home, she and Laura made the trek back to the doctor. He was obviously surprised to see her; and sent her for testing. Laura told me later that she would never forget his face when he came in with the test results. He was white as a ghost she said, as he laid the results out in front of them. For there was absolutely no sign of cancer anywhere in Oma’s body.
It had plain and simply disappeared. A miracle.
Well, a few years went by and now we were part of their lives. Oma and Opa loved being grandparents, and doted on their two grandchildren. Unfortunately, they had very little in the way of material things to give them, as they existed pretty much on social security. But love more than made up for material lack.
Laura’s husband Joe had an interesting business. He and his father owned a large car dealership and also engaged in offshore shipping. Bob and I were just a young Navy family – and had no idea what ‘offshore shipping’ was – but hey, nothing says you need to know everything! We would see expensive foreign cars and huge yachts on trailers appear overnight, and within a couple days, be gone again – just another day in the neighborhood. Laura had never worked outside the home, and had never gone to college. She was just a regular wife and mother who cared for her family.
Until the day of the accident.
On that day, Laura was driving her husband’s dealership car when another driver, who hit her, totaled it. Laura actually had to be cut out of the car to be rescued. Miraculously, she was not badly injured. The rescue squad took her to the hospital, and laid her on a gurney outside the emergency examining room.
It was there that she was arrested.
In the course of about 5 minutes, she discovered that her entire married life was a lie. For you see, the very fancy dealership car – from her husband’s business – that she had been driving, turned out to be stolen. Her husband’s ‘offshore shipping’ business was offshore all right. It was ‘offshore’ where stolen vehicles were taken outside to international waterways, stripped and disguised – and sent back in as ‘foreign imports’ for sale in her husband’s dealership.
Pretty much the bottom fell out of everything after that. Laura’s husband and father went on the lam, and she filed for divorce. It was then that she discovered that absolutely everything she owned – house, cars, possessions – were in her husband and her father-in-law’s names. Joe filed the legal paperwork necessary – and had his wife and children thrown into the street.
I remember the day we helped her and the kids get their own personal items – clothing, etc. – out of the house before the sheriff came to lock the door. We were all racing in and out of the house trying to extricate as much stuff as humanly possible. I had Maryjacqueline in a backpack, and was grabbing everything I could. Oma and Opa were there too – with ashen faces. They were trying to help their daughter and grandchildren retain as much of their things as they were able. What they must have thought of their son-in-law, I can only imagine. They never said a word.
Suddenly, as I passed Oma with another armful of stuff, I saw her put her load down and sink into a chair.
“I don’t feel well,” she said.
Something about the way she said it gave me a dreadful feeling. Sure enough, once she went back to the doctor, we heard the grim prognosis. The cancer was back, and it was everywhere.
So began the slow and sad deterioration of Oma.
Throughout the months that followed, everyone was grief-stricken. Everyone, that is, but Oma.
Yes, she was heart broken that she would not see her grandchildren grow up; but she continued to tell everyone over and over:
“God is taking me home for a reason. I have no money to help Laura and the children; there is nothing that we can do for them. I know that God will use me to help them – and that is why He is bringing me home. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”
Everyone was really too grief stricken to respond. As the months went by, Opa and Oma helped Laura find a nice rental for her family. They helped her look for, and get a good secretarial job. They walked with her through the divorce process, helping her in every way they could. They just couldn’t – as much as they wanted to – give her any financial support. They lived in a tiny mobile home themselves – they didn’t even have space for their daughter and grandchildren to live with them.
As Oma sickened, her work on a quilt for Hannah intensified. She was determined to give it to her as a lasting remembrance. She sewed many meaningful things into that quilt – things that she hoped would help Hannah remember her. She finally finished the quilt and lovingly gave it to Hannah. The next day, she took to bed – and within just a few days – was gone.
Laura afterwards told me of an amazing occurrence. As her mother slipped into a coma, she reverted back to speaking Polish. Neither Laura, nor her father, had any idea what she was saying. For a day or two, she kept gesturing and urgently speaking in Polish. They had no idea what she wanted. Suddenly, Oma’s sister arrived to see her. She walked into the room; and froze. Oma was doing her gesturing and urgent speaking.
“Heinz!” her sister whispered in awe, “she’s speaking to Heinz!”
It turned out that their brother Heinz had died years ago, and Oma was talking to him. She kept asking him to come closer, so that she could hold his hand.
Laura said it pretty much freaked everybody out.
Oma passed away shortly before we moved out of Florida. It was a year or so later that I got a phone call from Laura in our new home. Now it was her turn to speak urgently. Susan!” she exclaimed the minute I said hello, “do you remember what my mother said? What she said about ‘helping me out’ when she gets to heaven?”
I cautiously said yes; and then the story unfolded.
Apparently, Joe, her ex-husband, had finally gone off to jail a few months prior. It had been in the news all over the state. On the other side of Florida was a married couple that had gone to school with Joe when they were younger. They had no children; both worked, and were loaded with money. The husband showed the wife the story, and they both expressed surprise at what had become of their childhood classmate. Suddenly one of them noted that Joe had left a wife, and 2 young children, totally unsupported when he went to prison. They agreed that that was ‘so sad’; put the paper down and continued with their breakfast.
When they later called Laura, they explained that – since that moment – neither of them had gotten “a single minute’s peace.” They were both consumed with the thought that they just had to help Laura and the children financially. After all, they had the money, and what else were they doing with it? They were awakened with the idea at night, bombarded with the idea in the morning, interrupted with the idea at work. They simply, and plainly, could get no rest until they did something.
So they set up a bank deposit for Laura and the kids; and called her to let her know how much they had designated to go into it each month from then on out.
Laura was, obviously, speechless. But at least she was not also clueless. She had inside knowledge of exactly what was going on. And ‘what was going on’ was this:
“Sue, my mother is harassing the heck out of this poor couple – because that’s apparently what she went to heaven for.”
Who knew? Besides Oma, that is...
I think that we will eventually all know – that our work here is not finished – just because God brings us home to heaven. The ties are stronger than we know; the invisible cords are actually quite taut – and the joy – unspeakable...
This is the response I wrote to the college professor who wondered why people didn't take responsibility for Hannah Graham - who was tragically murdered after attending a college party, drinking too much, and losing her way home:
My 3 daughters attended Franciscan University of Steubenville Ohio. It is a Catholic college where students actually believe, and live out, their faith. The male students routinely tell their female classmates to NOT let themselves be treated like anything other than the beloved Daughters of God that they are. They open doors, they pull out chairs - they are RESPECTFUL. The 1st party my daughter went to caused her to call home the next day. She couldn’t believe it but the party was held off campus at someone’s house. Although there was available alcohol there, no one under age was drinking it because… well… it was against the law. At midnight, everyone called for silence at the party so that they could all…. Say a Hail Mary and thank God for another day.
When I tell people these, and other, stories they invariably laugh. They read in some sort of ‘female oppression’, or ‘brainwashed religion’. They say it could never happen, and that marks the end of their thought on the matter.
And THAT is how we have failed Hannah Graham.
We have ALLOWED OURSELVES TO BECOME a society that ridicules goodness – and yet are shocked to find that our children embrace evil at a rapid rate. We have ALLOWED OURSELVES TO BECOME a society that scorns modesty & virtue – and yet are shocked to find our young women treated, and then discarded, as nothing more than sexual objects. We have ALLOWED OURSELVES TO BECOME a society that marginalizes faith – and yet are shocked to discover that our young people are bereft without any of the strong moorings that used to get them safely through hard times.
I heard often throughout many of these replies that ‘well, we really CAN’T expect them NOT to go out and get drunk, etc.’ So my question is: “Why not?” Couldn’t I equally say we can’t expect young men NOT to prey on young girls? We can’t expect young people NOT to steal cars, lie, cheat and hurt each other? Why not? Having raised 4 children, I will tell you a secret – children grow up doing the things we give them excuses to do. It’s actually OUR JOB to tell them they absolutely, positively cannot do those things. That’s called parenting – you know, the hard kind – the kind where you care more about your children’s long term lives; then your own short term ‘peace and quiet’ and/or ‘likeability’. This is even more difficult, because then WE have to start living with those traits and virtues ourselves.
And so I have a way for us to begin saving all these young girls (and boys) who are in danger in our culture today. Begin to speak up - not only to your own children, but to other’s as well. That’s what people have done since the dawn of time – reclaim it, it worked. Expect virtue (from them AND yourself). Take them to church this weekend, and the next, and the next. Find other people of virtue, and begin making efforts to get together with them. Turn off the television – and TALK TO EACH OTHER at nighttime. In fact, get RID of the television – it is brainwashing them, and it is brainwashing you. It is making you actually think things like ‘we can’t expect goodness & virtue’. Really? Listen to yourself; be amazed you have sold out so easily! Set firm rules and even firmer consequences.
And stop – as of RIGHT NOW – making excuses as to why you ‘just can’t do it’. The time for excuses is over. The time for discipline and hard choices is now. It begins within – put down what you are doing, and make plans to begin with yourself. Then stick to them.
Several years ago, Franciscan University was indistinguishable from all other universities. The students, like students on all other campuses were ‘expected’ to be rebellious and – shock – they were! And then their new President, Father Michael Scanlon, decided that the adults could expect a lot more. They called their students back to their Faith, and pointed out that it entailed a higher way of living. They began that way right then. As they modeled, and expected, Love and Goodness, the students slowly did also.
And so it IS possible. Not easy – but possible.
And by doing so, you just might begin to turn this society back around, one child and one family at a time; and THAT, more than anything else, will save the next life.
Original Post by the Professor.
I think a field trip is in order.
I just saw the recent news flash where the Pope and Bishops have released a tentative 'report' detailing thoughts concerning re-evaluating sin. I would like to use the modern words like 'homosexual unions', 'cohabitation', 'pre-marital sex' and the like - but to keep it short, I thought I'd just use the word that the Founder of our Faith - Jesus Christ - used; and so I'll go with 'sin'.
I understand the feelings behind all of this. People are hurting, and those who care about people want to take away that hurt. And so there is the tendency to reach for the cures recommended by the culture at large. Sometimes it's hard to envision anything else when all you see is the illusion of the 'compassion' proposed by those most visible.
Hence a Field Trip is in order.
First stop on the Agenda would be Franciscan University of Steubenville, Ohio. I discovered FUS about 6 years ago when our daughters attended a Summer Youth Conference there. I was completely and totally blown away, as I had never seen anything like it in the 'current culture'; nor have I seen anything like it since.
You see, at Franciscan, people really do believe their faith. And since they believe it - they live it. Pretty simple. Kind of, actually, like the way the whole ball game began 2,000+ years ago!
At Franciscan, they believe that sin is sin - but Grace is powerful. In fact, Grace is SO powerful - that it is able to defeat sin. Imagine that! I mean, at Franciscan, young people actually walk around loving and caring for each other. Young men ENCOURAGE young women to respect their bodies (and themselves), enough to withhold the gift of sexuality for the proper place it was made - the marital bed. Because women are respected in this way - almost none are on anti-depressants or struggling with various mental health disorders - unlike 99.99% of the more 'enlightened' colleges out there. At Franciscan, men support one another by calling each other to a higher level of integrity and honor. They speak of the great things that God has created them to do - and then they go on to perform them. Imagine that! Instead of spending each weekend in drunken, vomit laden binges - they do things like build homes for the homeless, travel the world seeking the lost and forsaken, take on lies and corruption - always challenging each other to reach the very highest levels of perfection they can - again, unlike the 99.99% of 'enlightened' colleges out there.
Did you know - shock - that there is a real problem in our 'modern' colleges with sexual assaults and abuse? Go figure! We encourage women to act as prostitutes, and are "Oh so shocked!", when they are treated like them. We encourage men to act as animals, and are "Oh so shocked!", when they behave like them. Who knew??!!! Doctors report that on college campuses today, the single biggest problem for women is depression, and for men, alcoholism. But surely, who could have guessed that encouraging young people to embrace sin and rebellion would come to such a bad end?
I mean, you'd almost need to have a crystal ball or something for that one!!!
Yes, a field trip to Franciscan to see the glory of life where young people SHUN sin, would open even the eyes of the Intentionally Secular Blind to see that embracing sin so that 'no one's feelings gets hurt' leads to a hell-of-a-lotta HURT.
But that's just the 1st stop on my field trip.
The next stop would be to a Living Waters class. Livings Waters is an amazing Christian ministry to heal the deep wounds of early childhood - especially for those in disordered sexual sin. It began as a ministry to those with same sex attraction, but was so successful in healing those life long coping mechanisms that it quickly encompassed individuals who had developed different means to cope with their wounds. If the Pope and Bishops could just meet these people, people who were in bondage to disordered sexual sin for most of their lives, and who completely lost that attraction after embracing the healing available in Christ - then they would probably come to realize the very real power of Christ in changing lives. For Jesus doesn't leave us to wallow in our sin - He comes into our lives with POWER to heal us, and overcome it. And not just the 'easy' sins like eating too much chocolate.
We give up chocolate for Lent and, after 40 days of barely making it - we congratulate ourselves on our 'spiritual fortitude and progress'. Yes, we are pathetic.
Let's take a minute to look at the 1st French Missionaries to North America. After being captured by the Iroquois and enduring torture like having his fingers chewed off (for starters), Father Issac Joques was able to escape and make his way back to France - an instant hero. However, after arriving to safety, he began to be overcome with sorrow for the lives of hate, torture and evil that he had witnessed existing among that unChristianized culture - and so HE WENT BACK. He said it was important to teach them the power of love, in other words - the Power of Christ… After his eventual martyrdom, even the Indians had to admit that this man had a Power that they had never, ever, ever seen or heard of before. They wanted some of that power - and tribe after tribe converted to Christianity and found it.
Kind of makes our spiritual 'power' in denying ourselves chocolate for 40 days pretty pitiful - don't it?
This power is still available to us today; it's just that we have forgotten it. We no longer make the hard choices to give up sin, and instead we make excuses for why it's too 'difficult'. We then wonder why our lives don't work, and why we just don't feel the Presence and Power of God anymore…
"I wouldn't gossip about her if she lived a decent life!" "Of course we are having sex before marriage, everyone else is! Why would we want to be made fun of?" "I can cheat on my taxes this time, after all the Government has enough of my money already and anyway - I disagree with how they spend it!" "Well, you are certainly justified in how mean you are to him - he's a dead beat dad and deserves all our condemnation!" "I hate that sports team, and everyone who supports them. After all, I AM a loyal fan! Fans hate their opponents!" "Oh what's a little harmless flirtation at the office? Everybody else does it, and anyway, it makes me feel sexy!" "You deserve to put yourself FIRST after all - if you don't, who will?" "Well, God made me this way, and since I refuse to examine this little voice inside that tells me I am doing wrong - then I will make darn sure that no one else can vocalize it!"
We need not even get to the point of sexual sin - we've sold out long before that...
But if the Pope and Bishops were to join me on my little field trip, then they might just see the joy in the lives of individuals who have, in the Strength of Christ, healed their wounds and found the POWER to overcome and defeat the sin that once ruled them. In fact, they might just realize that 're-evaluating' our aversion to sin in order to help people feel 'better' about the sinful choices they have made, does nothing but lead to more pain, and more sin.
For sin separates a person from God. Not even the Pope and Bishops can change that true, hard fact. To encourage the trivialization of sin, and its cost, is to leave people in bondage to evil. The culture at large today seeks the easy way out; but it is ultimately the selfish and uncaring way.
For you just might get your fingers chewed off when you attempt to reach people and show them the love and power of a sinless life -
but Oh, the Glory when that dawn finally breaks in their lives.
There is a famous scene from the John Adams movie, where the actor quotes the words John made in arguing for the Declaration of Independence. The Delegates had just heard tales of woe and pleas for surrender from those who chose to side with Britain. John however, although acknowledging their fears, stated that he saw things differently. Where they saw 'doom', he saw "Hope". He saw a new birth of freedom - not without great cost - but a freedom worth fighting for nonetheless.
It is that Freedom that we must remind the culture of. We need not listen to its tales of woe and surrender. We need to remember that we have greater tales of Victory over ALL defeat. That victory has been whispered to us by God since He first asked Abraham to stop and listen. It is a whisper that remains today - if we but listen.
For He has not stopped Speaking. It's just that we've stopped listening.
Hence, no better time than the present ……. for a good old Field Trip!
In our house we initiated a ‘spill of the day’ when the children were young. At the beginning, it seemed that every time we sat down to eat dinner, somebody would spill their milk. Never failed. We would fret and fume, jump up and get a sponge and go through the mop up. Finally it dawned on us that this was an inevitable part of life with 4 young children. So the next time it occurred (as in the next night after this realization), Bob and I just called out “SPILL OF THE DAY!” and grabbed a sponge and wiped it up. The children went from a ‘deer in the head-lights’ look upon spilling, to a ‘relax, this is life’ look. No one was ever again surprised, embarrassed or ashamed at a difficulty that just so happens to be part of life. We simply muddled through with a sigh, a smile and a means to deal with it. Today, even though young adults; when there is a spill, the kids will call out ‘SPILL OF THE DAY!!’ and laugh. (This can get a bit of attention in restaurants…)
It occurred to me today that this is similar to something our Lord has been trying to tell us all along. In Matthew 13:24-30, He tells the story about the weeds being sown among the wheat. Both grow together until the final harvest when the weeds will finally be pulled up and thrown into the fire. The wheat has to just get used to, and deal with, weeds.
In fact, throughout all of the gospels, Jesus reminds his disciples that they will be hated, ridiculed, persecuted and more – until the end of time.
Sounds pretty inevitable to me – kinda like a ‘spill of the day’.
If we look back at history, this has been the story of Christianity from the beginning. Even in cultures that accepted Christianity – as America once did – there were always other parts of the world that did not. The people who lived there were not exactly living harassment free lives.
So the dates change, the nations change, the people change, the actual circumstances change – but the reality remains the same. Our Lord was not kidding – there has been, is now, and will always be hate, ridicule, persecution and more.
So too, our ‘spill of the day’; families change, children change, circumstances change – but when you get a table full of kids together – there WILL be a ‘spill of the day’.
The sooner we get used to this fact, the sooner we will simply deal with each spill – AND each attack on our faith – with a sigh, a smile, and a means to deal with it – patiently. Because no matter how many times you mop up the latest attack; another WILL break out again…
Guaranteed - kinda like a 'spill of the day'.
It was a moment I will never forget. It was in the early 1990's and I had gone to Washington DC to lobby my Florida Senators concerning Education, when one of the aides shoved a paper in my hands. I began to read it and my whole body began to shake. In the paper, it detailed a new abortion procedure. The procedure was called 'late term', or 'partial birth' abortion - where a full term child is delivered feet first so that the doctor can crush his/her head while still in the womb, before delivery. It first came to light when a young nurse assisted a doctor who performed it. She immediately left the room and called the police. She told them that she had just witnessed a doctor murder a new born child. "Oh no," the authorities had assured her, "it was just an abortion."
Now I admit, that left me pretty shaken; but what was on the paper afterwards completely horrified me. For the main reason doctors were lining up to do these abortions laid right in my hands. It was a receipt from a research facility outlining their 'payments' for aborted children. If the doctor could only deliver severed arms, legs, heads and headless torsos - then the price was pretty low. But, BUT, if they could deliver fully formed, completely intact dead babies THEN they hit the jackpot! The prices for THOSE 'specimens' ran into the hundreds.
WOW! What research companies could do with fully formed dead children! Let's face it, not since Hitler has there been such opportunity!!!!
I remember at the time, standing in the immense, beautifully decorated Capital Building - and beginning to cry. I had never been a big 'pro-life' supporter, in fact in my 'flaming liberal' days I was an adamant 'abortion rights' advocate**; but the sheer evil of this completely stopped me in my tracks.
There was a MARKET for DEAD babies? IN AMERICA??!!!
I was so upset that I left the Capital Building, went straight to the airport and got on the first flight back to Florida. I could no longer stay in such an evil place.
This memory popped up to the surface this morning as I read of another incident, buried by the press. It seems that doctors have routinely dismissed claims that autism could be caused by vaccines; but a recent study says that it appears that the vaccines in question - the ones that were claimed they were linked to autism - were all made with aborted fetal parts; i.e. dead babies. By vaccine companies. In their liquified vaccine solutions.
That study made me recall another medical finding concerning 'fetal stem cell' experiments. It seems that, contrary to loudly touted claims, there have actually been NO (as in zero) breakthroughs in healing using fetal stem cells. All the 'breakthroughs' we hear about have been using ADULT stem cells. Apparently, whenever they have tried using 'fetal stem cells', Frankenstein like results occurred - people immediately began twitching violently, and still have not stopped; people went insane, people suffered agonizingly horrible pain, and on and on and on.
Gee, almost like they were kind of cursed or something…
And then I recalled the time, again while living in Florida, that I went in for a facial. As the beautician smoothed the cream onto my skin, she causally said, "Oh, by the way, the base that is used in this cream is made with aborted fetal cells. I hope that doesn't bother you or anything…"
And who can forget the recent outcry when it came to light that aborted babies were being swept into treatment facilities and used as fuel throughout England? Who knew, our new source of 'clean energy' - Dead Babies!
Dead babies in our vaccines, dead babies in our heating systems, dead babies on our skin, dead babies being used by 'medical research' for so much more than just burial purposes! By gosh, why waste them??!!
Ever wonder what else dead babies are in - that you just don't know about? After all, Medical Research Facilities have been paying big bucks for them for well nigh 3 decades or so - surely they've found many, many industrial uses by now… Is there any law to put 'dead baby' on a packaging ingredient list?
I read a book when I was a kid; it was required reading - probably to horrify the heck out of us. That's because the plot involves the world in 2022 where a new product has been discovered that saves the starving (ignorant and poor) people who live in the cities. (Those characters in the book who are in power live lives of luxury in the countryside - unbeknownst, of course, to the poor deluded citizens who believe everything they are told by 'those in power'.) You don't find out until the end of the book that it is the dead bodies of the elderly, under the new 'compassionate' policy of euthanasia encouraged by 'those in power', that are being processed and used to provide the starving masses' latest form of food. The food, and the book, was called Soylent Green.
Has 2022 come early?
We are told today (coincidently by 'those in power') that abortion is a great good**. It gives women 'choices' to solve that pesky problem of children that they have taken action to conceive - but no longer want. But are we told the whole truth?
Are we told that dead babies are Big Business?
Why do we so willingly believe that politicians, and others, will sell their souls (and votes) for Big Money, Big Corporations, Big Power - and not realize that selling dead babies is part of that Big Power? Planned Parenthood makes over a billion dollars a year.
Why do we think those in the Abortion Industry (and it IS an industry) would WANT to make abortions 'rare and unnecessary'? That's their profit margin - what, are they crazy? Right now, they get a new product (dead baby) every 26 seconds in America alone - that's better than any modern day assembly line. Why would they want to shut down that gravy train?
So the next time you hear your favorite politician waxing poetic about a woman's 'right to choose'; think about Soylent Green and say to yourself - "Sorry buddy, but I'M not that stupid!"
But the scariest thing of all? Think of what God must think of a Nation, and a People, that consume and cannibalize their own children - while skipping along singing their own praises.
"I tremble for my country when I reflect that God is just; that his justice cannot sleep forever."
**I began to change my opinion from 'pro-choice' to 'pro-life' after witnessing friends treated like nothing more than cattle (and injured) by abortionists after handing over their cold hard cash. My opinion was further challenged after discovering that many if not most of these 'heroic' abortion doctors had had their medical licenses revoked before going into the abortion business, and since beginning their abortion business, they had become exceedingly wealthy. My opinion was further solidified by reports of former abortion managers who told of their 'techniques' to help induce pregnancies to ramp up their abortion business. For instance, one women remarked that it was obvious that the young women coming to them for birth control would get STDs - since disease goes with the unlimited sex territory. Those women would then be given antibiotics by the clinics and intentionally NOT told that antibiotics lowered the effectiveness of birth control pills. Bingo - new abortion client. And lastly, my opinion was confirmed in my family and criminal defense law practice. The women I dealt with who had the most severe mental health and/or addiction problems all seemed to have lived lives of normalcy up until a certain point - when they inexplicably changed. After further digging, i always discovered when that 'certain point' occurred. It was right after they had had an abortion. (Our psyches and our very souls know that to kill an innocent life - is WRONG.)
I have seen enough to know this: Abortions are destroying women - NOT helping them. And they will not stop until we tell those who are getting rich off of the destruction of innocent lives of children AND mothers - those in the Abortion Big Business, Medical Research Big Business, etc. - along with the Politicians whose pockets they line - that THE GRAVY TRAIN HAS COME TO AN END.
(and oh, by they way, ever wonder why women are not told that having an abortion increases their breast cancer rate 89%?) Gosh, it's so strange how breast cancer has just 'taken off' in the last few decades - almost correspondingly to how long abortion has been legal and encouraged in America… At 1.2 million women a year having abortions - that's a lot of increased cancer risk.)
"Should we tell them?"
"Nah, let's just order another study concerning diet."
Ashley and Susan
Two women asking the world to not just hope, but to hope in Love.