Most Progressives are vitriolic in their support of a “woman’s right to choose”. That’s understandable. I do not write to them. I write today to what I call the ‘fence-sitters’, the conservatives who say that they are personally opposed to abortion but believe that it is up to a woman and her doctor. I submit that this is a cowardly stance to take. President Obama, the most radically pro-abortion President in history, says as much.

Pro-choice arguments always center around women’s rights. They claim that abortion is safe, that there are no lasting emotional scars. I issue a challenge: ask a woman who had an abortion years ago and now suffers the emotional/spiritual consequences of that ‘choice’ some questions.

Ask her if she wanted the baby’s father to man up and tell her he supported her and the baby he helped to create. Ask her if she hoped against hope that he would show up and carry her out of there. Ask her if her parents were more concerned about what people would think than about their daughter and grandchild.

Ask her if she got accurate medical information. Ask her if she was seriously offered another option. Ask her if, as she lay on that cold table, with doctors and nurses joking about where they were going to lunch, she wanted to scream and run away. Then ask her if she felt like she had anywhere to go. Ask her if she has regretted that choice every single day of her life. Ask her if she thinks about what her child would look like, what he or she would have grown up to be.

You’ll get different answers, because the initial reaction is relief. A crisis is over, a problem is solved. A woman is told that now she can go on with her life. But her life has been forever changed, and eventually that ‘choice’ will surface from the depths of her heart, from that place where she shoves it tightly down and slams the door.

It may surface as nightmares, depression, panic attacks, substance abuse, relational issues, or any number of other symptoms that mirror PTSD. Secular mental health providers are quick to discount a woman’s suggestion that a prior abortion is affecting her, if she is brave enough to even admit that she has had one. The American Psychiatric Association doesn’t even have the word ‘abortion’ in the index of the latest addition of the DSM-IV-TR, the ‘bible’ used to diagnose mental health issues and that providers use it to obtain codes to file for reimbursement. This stinks of politics and the strength of the pro-abortion industry.

So, if you believe abortion is a safe, harmless alternative to carrying an unplanned pregnancy to term, if you are ‘personally opposed’ but not brave enough to stand up for the truth, then I dare you. Find a women who has come to the place where she can admit that she had an abortion, and ask her. Ask me.

Yesterday, I replied to this Tweet: “American Conservatism: Whatever you do, do not bring us your poor and huddled masses. Amen” with this simple opinion: “Wrong. All are welcome; come thru front door”. I never received any reply, and frankly forgot all about it..until this morning, when I received three consecutive Tweets from the person to whom I replied:

1) “It’s not the method in which immigrants enter that bothers you; it’s the race and income of those who do”.
2) “You revealed your underlying bigotry by assuming the Tweet you replied to was referring to illegal immigrants. It was not”.
3) “Did you welcome those from Mexico who Bush43 invited in his Guest Worker Program through the back door?”

None of this surprises me after viewing the profile of the “lady” (and I use that word loosely based on the language in her timeline) and read her bio: “Loyal #p2 #p21 & connoisseur of psychological disorders. Needless to say, the Republican Disorder fascinates me. Blocked by @AnnCoulter; I can’t imagine why.”

That a person who describes herself as a “connoisseur of psychological disorders…fascinated by the Republican Disorder” cannot see the irony in what she said to me is, well, ironic. In psychological terms, I believe it’s called projection, defined as a psychological defense mechanism in which a person subconsciously denies his or her own thoughts and emotions, which are then ascribed to other people. Based on an eight word reply to a post that lumps all Conservatives into one hate-filled basket, she declared me to be a racist bigot. But then, projection reduces anxiety by allowing the expression of unconscious impulses or desires without letting the conscious mind recognize them.

I know this because, contrary to the popular stereotype that Progressives hold of Conservative women, I am not a stupid southern woman who spent her time in the kitchen, barefoot and pregnant. I have a Master’s Degree in Professional Counseling. I am the former owner of a small business. I raised three boys while working, pursuing my degree only after closing our business in 2007. I am a Domestic Violence survivor, divorcing after 26 years of a hellish marriage. I am now a single mother, a home owner, and a Professional Counselor. I am most assuredly NOT Julia…

For the benefit of any Progressive who wanders upon this post (if he or she reads this far before jumping to conclusions about me), I would like to describe what I do Monday through Friday. I will preface this by saying that I do not do it for the money. I made more money as the Assistant Manager of a retail store, so let’s go ahead and put the ‘greedy Capitalist’ notion to rest. There are many more lucrative things I could do if money were my god, but it is not.

I am an Addictions Counselor at a Community Mental Health facility. The clients that I work with are overwhelmingly very poor, and I serve all races and ethnicities. My specific caseload involves working with women who have lost their children due to drug addiction and/or legal violations; many times due to both. Many of them gave birth to babies who were addicted; most are involved in relationships with men who abuse them. They come to us with very little hope for the future. In the counseling room, I do not judge them for the situations that they are in. I support them, I educate them, I pour my heart into their hearts. By Friday, I am mentally and emotionally drained, but I see this work as God’s call on my life (I hear Progressive heads exploding at that thought…) and by His grace I am able to love my ladies as He does. My clients are condemned and judged by almost everyone else in their lives. I, and my co-workers, offer them a hand. Not a handout.

In addition to working with them to overcome their drug addiction and deal with all the trauma that they have faced in their lives, I do Case Management work with my clients. I go to their homes, I help them get whatever they need. I go to court with them, I advocate for them with Child Protective Services. I link them with resources in the community to help them get back on their feet and get their children back. We offer help with educational and/or job opportunities. Our ultimate goal is to get them off of drugs, off of government assistance, and to give them the tools to stay clean and to live healthy, self-actualizing lives. In short, our goal is to give them back their self-esteem and to break the cycle of poverty and addiction from which most of them have come.

To the Progressives out there, and particularly to ‘Casey’, @pari_passu on Twitter, what I shared above could be described as getting into the trenches and getting your hands dirty trying to help people who need help, as opposed to screaming for more taxation so the almighty government will do it for you. It could also be called ‘walking your talk’, and I do it every day. Perhaps if Progressives could see beyond their own bigotry and stereotypical labels, a lot of the name-calling and hate out there would disappear. But then, that would upset their agenda of cradle-to-grave government entitlements, so I won’t hold my breath.

It is ironic when some members of the tolerant, all-inclusive Progressive movement cannot see how bigoted they are when they dare to lump all Conservatives into one category and dismiss us as hateful, racist bigots. People who live in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones…

Below is a post that I wrote on January, 2011. But first, I have to tell the rest of the story. Praise God, my son is currently in a Christian discipleship program and God is working a miracle in his heart. Only God can heal the fallout…

The experience described below pushed my son over the edge. He started drinking, then using drugs, to kill the pain in his heart. Today is April 11, 2012, and he has been fighting an addiction to opiates, Oxycontin and Roxycontin, for almost 2 years. First he swallowed them, then he snorted them, then he started injecting them. He has been through rehab, he has been clean for weeks or months, and then relapsed, then been clean, then relapsed. Today, he is clean but there really is no promise that he will be tomorrow. He wants to be, but he is in bondage.

He has been on a rollercoaster. So have I. He is making progress in his recovery, but it is hard. He has lost more than his child…

He had a 4.0 GPA in high school. He led worship in our church. He is an extremely gifted musician, vocalist, and actor. But his dreams are in ashes…He lost a full scholarship, he has lost at least 3 jobs, he has lost more money than I care to think about. He has stolen from every member of our family to support his habit. He has destroyed the trust of everyone who loves him. He has been in jail twice and is on probation.

His life became a trainwreck. And a young woman’s ‘right to choose’ without his knowledge or consent pulled the switch that started the train. Men hurt too…

I don’t know how to say goodbye…
Originally Posted: January 26, 2011

For those who believe that abortion is just a choice that a woman makes, one that should be left to her and to her alone, please read on. Abortion breaks the hearts of men, too. It breaks the hearts of grandparents, and the hearts of uncles and aunts. It breaks the heart of God.

This is a true story about my son and the baby he named Gabriel…

Early last summer, my son was told by a young woman with whom he had had a casual sexual encounter that she was pregnant. He didn’t tell anyone for four months, but God finally broke through his denial in late October and he told me. Since the end of July, this young woman had been sending him text messages about his child. He had an ultrasound picture-at about 20 week gestation-that was sent to his phone of the baby she said was his son. I had the same picture on my phone the day after he told me about this child.

She sent these messages several times a day with comments like ‘your son likes Oreos’ or ‘your son doesn’t like tacos’. They talked about how he would play football. They talked about what he would look like. She went into great detail about her visits to the doctor, always saying her mom took her. She said her mom wanted to raise Gabriel, but that my son could be as involved as he wanted to be. She told me these same things. She and I talked several times on Facebook about her doctor visits, her heartburn, and her questions about pregnancy.

We welcomed her into our home and we welcomed the child into our family and into our hearts. My daughter-in-law gave her a basket full of baby items for him. Gabriel had Christmas gifts in my closet right beside those for my granddaughter and grandson.

Then, suddenly, in late November my son received a message saying that she was having cramps and that her mom took her to the doctor. She said that his child was ‘small for dates’. She said that the MD was putting her on bed rest to try and avoid premature labor. She said they wanted to give his lungs a chance to mature. She said she was going to stay at her mom’s.

Somehow, it had never been convenient for her for my son to go to the doctor with her, or to go to her mom’s home. But he did manage to get her mother’s phone number from a mutual friend and so, that evening, I called her mother. I told her my name, that I was his mother. She said nothing for a second, then just a rather confused “yes?” I said that her daughter had told my son that she had been to the doctor and was experiencing complications, and that I wanted to know if she was alright and if there was anything we could do. She was silent for a few seconds, and then said, “I’m sorry, but I don’t know what you’re talking about…..”

There was no baby. The young lady aborted him early in the pregnancy, but continued to let my son, and ultimately the rest of my family, believe that he was alive. It was such an elaborate web of lies that it is almost beyond belief. I told her mother enough of it to impress upon her that her daughter is in serious need of professional help, and I said I would pray for them. I don’t know what happened to her. I continue to pray for her healing.

What my son did was wrong, and he knows that. He stepped up to the plate and took responsibility for his actions. He asked God for forgiveness. He asked our church family for forgiveness. I am so very proud of him for that. I don’t think I could have done what he did.

He was never in love with this young woman, but he did fall in love with Gabriel. So did I. But Gabriel’s birth was just the fantasy of a very disturbed young woman. There has been a death in our family. My son, my grown son of 23, so strong, so confident, cried his heart out for days on end. So did I.

When I am in pain, God uses writing to help heal my heart. In my grief last winter, I wrote these words:

I don’t know how to say goodbye…

God desires for us to pour out our hearts to Him, to offer up to Him the deepest pain in our hearts. He cannot heal what we do not allow Him to touch. This is a lesson that I have learned the hard way, because for many years I thought that if I denied feeling pain, if I pretended everything was ok, then the hurt would go away and nobody would know. Nothing could be further from the truth.

I couldn’t sleep last night, so I started writing, trying to make some kind of sense out of this loss…

“Be gracious to me, O LORD, for I am in distress;
my eye is wasted from grief;
my soul and my body also.
For my life is spent with sorrow,
and my years with sighing;
my strength fails…” Psalm 31:9-10

Our “little angel that came out of nowhere” only existed in the mind of a very sick young lady. But to us, he was still very much alive.

I don’t know how to say goodbye…

How can something seem so real when it has vanished?
How can you love someone so much that will never exist in this world?

Brown curly hair…
with just a touch of ‘nappy’.

Perfectly soft sweet skin…
just a bit darker than mine.

Dancing green eyes…
that sometimes seem brown, or grey.

Chubby little arms with ten perfect fingers…
reaching up to be held.

Chubby little legs with ten perfect toes…
running into my arms.

Bumps and bruises…
as he learned to crawl, then walk, then run.

The voice of an angel…
singing silly made up songs.

Getting into everything…
as little boys do.

There were already so many dreams…

His first Christmas, lights dancing in his eyes…
playing around the tree with his cousins…

His first birthday…
cake and ice cream smeared all over his face…

His first day of school…
tears and excitement rolled into one…

Playing football…
a slightly crazy linebacker with no fear…

Singing and acting and dancing…
gifts and talents sent straight from heaven…

His name was Gabriel…

He never got a chance to live,
but still, I’ve lost a piece of my heart…

I don’t know how to say goodbye…

My prayer is that God will be glorified through this experience that is so beyond my understanding. I know that He holds us in His hand, I know that He will bring us through this nightmare together, just as He has brought us through so many times before. Although this deception was unquestionably evil and meant by Satan to destroy, I know that God will take it and use it for good.

“For I know the plans I have for you, declares the LORD, plans for good and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope. Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will hear you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.” Jeremiah 29:11-13

Abortion kills a child and wounds a mother. Perhaps the experience of abortion caused this young lady’s psychological problems. Perhaps she had them already. I don’t know. What I DO know is that I would have gladly taken my grandson and raised him as my own. His name was Gabriel

HuffPo writer aborts daughter with Trisomy 13

Click the above link to read the story of writer Kimberly Cates Escamilla explaining her decision to abort her unborn daughter after being diagnosed with the genetic disorder, Trisomy 13 (Huffington Post, April 10). Go to the Huffington Post (linked on Jill’s site) to read the whole story. I did not directly link to that publication.

The story is disturbing on many levels, but underneath the anti-life words is a woman who is suffering. I read the many crude and hateful comments directed at this woman from people who are pro-life, and it bothered me. Aren’t we supposed to be better than that?

The picture of the woman caught in adultery, thrown at the feet of Jesus by those who believed themselves to be righteous, flew into my mind. The question I had to ask is, what would Christ do with this woman? Would He condemn her? Or would he offer her mercy, not because she deserves it in any way, but because of Who He is? What would He call us to do?

This woman, and her husband, need prayer, not judgement. They will live with this decision for the rest of their lives, and they will be haunted by it. They will hear the cry of a newborn baby, they will know when the due date arrives. They will picture Sophia as a toddler, starting school, on her first date. They will remember 20 years from now. They will remember until they die. They are deluded and misguided, but they are people and Christ desires for ALL to come to Him. If we, in the pro-life movement, condemn and judge are we not just fueling the fire? Are we not affirming the idea that we are rigid, self-righteous, and unforgiving? What are we to do?

This couple may one day find themselves speaking to others about the pain and tragedy of their choice, as many of us do. While the story in the Huffington Post was full of anti-life propaganda meant to inflame the ridiculous idea of the ‘war on women’, the last sentence the author wrote is one I can agree with: “we need sacred ways to honor both women and the unborn that are loving, free of dogma and condemnation”.

Post-abortive women need the love of Jesus and the freedom to grieve the loss of their child. They should not be made to feel that the church of Christ is the last place that they can run to. It should be the first place.

Too many times, those of us who bear the name of Christ deny them those things. We speak of life, but not of mercy for the woman who made the choice, and that, to me, is very sad. And it is most decidedly not what our Lord would do.

He would likely kneel down and write in the sand as we stand with stones in our hands…

Good Friday is tomorrow and Easter is coming up this weekend. A gift we never deserved and that can never be repaid was given to us. God’s perfect, sinless son paid the price for us. I hope everyone has a blessed Easter weekend. Please remember that it’s so much more than eggs and candy.

I was eight years old when Paul Harvey spoke these words. It’s uncanny how true they are of the world we live in today…

“If I were the devil, I wouldn’t be happy until I had seized the ripest apple on the tree—Thee. So I’d set about however necessary to take over the United States. I’d subvert the churches first—I would begin with a campaign of whispers. Wit…h the wisdom of a serpent, I would whisper to you as I whispered to Eve: “Do as you please.” “Do as you please.” To the young, I would whisper, “The Bible is a myth.” I would convince them that man created God instead of the other way around. I would confide that what is bad is good, and what is good is “square”. And the old, I would teach to pray. I would teach them to pray after me, ‘Our Father, which art in Washington…’
And then I’d get organized.  I’d educate authors on how to lurid literature exciting, so that anything else would appear dull and uninteresting. I’d threaten TV with dirtier movies and vice versa. I’d pedal narcotics to whom I could. I’d sell alcohol to ladies and gentlemen of distinction. I’d tranquilize the rest with pills.
If I were the devil I’d soon have families that war with themselves, churches that war that themselves, and nations that war with themselves; until each in its turn was consumed.  And with promises of higher ratings I’d have mesmerizing media fanning the flame.  If I were the devil I would encourage schools to refine young intellects, and neglect to discipline emotions—just let those run wild, until before you knew it, you’d have to have drug sniffing dogs and metal detectors at every schoolhouse door.
Within a decade I’d have prisons overflowing, I’d have judges promoting pornography—soon I could evict God from the courthouse, and then the schoolhouse, and then from the houses of Congress.  And in His own churches I would substitute psychology for religion, and deify science. I would lure priests and pastors into misusing boys and girls, and church money. If I were the devil I’d make the symbols of Easter an egg and the symbol of Christmas a bottle.
If I were the devil I’d take from those, and who have, and give to those wanted until I had killed the incentive of the ambitious. What do you bet I could get whole states to promote gambling as the way to get rich? I would question against extremes and hard work, and Patriotism, and moral conduct.  I would convince the young that marriage is old-fashioned, that swinging more fun, that what you see on the TV is the way to be.  And thus I could undress you in public, and I could lure you into bed with diseases for which there is no cure.  In other words, if I were to devil I’d keep on doing on what he’s doing.  Paul Harvey, good day.”

Of Alinsky, Twitter, and Hashtags

Posted: March 25, 2012 in Politics

President Barack Obama’s genius marketing team has come up with no less than three Twitter hashtags over the past week in an attempt to get his message out. Conservatives, and probably many Democrats who are fed up with “hope and change”, took over all three using a tactic that very few of us had ever heard of prior to 2007. We are beating them at their own game. And it drives them nuts. If you don’t think so, try to have a civil discussion with some Leftist on Twitter like I did today. Nothing but name-calling and profanity, and ultimately the race card. Because I’m white. It didn’t end well for the other guy. I didn’t have to lower myself to profanity or name calling. It was clear who was the racist in the conversation, and it wasn’t this southern white woman.

In his book Rules for Radicals (which, by the way, is dedicated to Lucifer), Saul Alinsky taught the political left, the ‘have-nots’, of America how to take away from the ‘haves’. For Alinsky, organizing is the process of highlighting whatever he believed to be wrong and convincing people they can actually do something about it. The two are linked. If people feel they don’t have the power to change a situation, they stop thinking about it.

According to Alinsky, the organizer — especially a paid organizer from outside — must first overcome suspicion and establish credibility. Next the organizer must begin the task of agitating: rubbing resentments, fanning hostilities, and searching out controversy. This is necessary to get people to participate. An organizer has to attack apathy and disturb the prevailing patterns of complacent community life where people have simply come to accept a situation. Alinsky would say, “The first step in community organization is community disorganization.”

Through a process combining hope and resentment, the organizer tries to create a “mass army” that brings in as many recruits as possible from local organizations, churches, services groups, labor unions, corner gangs, and individuals. This, my fellow Americans, is who was elected President in 2008. Barack Obama promised ‘hope and change’. It was a clever marketing slogan; it was vague, but it was catchy. And it worked. People, especially young people, read into it whatever ‘hope’ and ‘change’ meant to them. Obama was ‘cool’. Obama was ‘hip’. Obama was ‘one of us’. America fell for it hook, line, and sinker. And the plan to ‘fundamentally change’ a once great nation roared into action.

No one listened to those of us who were screaming about his radical past or his equally radical present. He was Obama, the healer of the world. Anyone who dared to question him was just a racist (Alinsky Rule 11: Pick the target, freeze it, personalize it, polarize it). No one would answer legitimate questions about his true intentions, his worldview (Alinsky Rule 10: The price of a successful attack is a constructive alternative. Avoid being trapped by an opponent or an interviewer who says, “Okay, what would you do?”).

Obama preys upon the racial wounds that he promised to heal (Alinsky Rule 2: Never go outside the experience of your people. The result is confusion, fear, and retreat). He purposely does just the opposite to anyone who opposes his policies (Alinsky Rule 3: Whenever possible, go outside the experience of an opponent. Here you want to cause confusion, fear, and retreat). As the infamous quote goes ‘never let a crisis go to waste’.

Ah, but Obama didn’t plan on Conservatives using his own playbook against him. I guess he really believed that we were stupid. He didn’t, and doesn’t, know who he is up against. We have learned to play the game, and we have learned well. Just check out the #gen44 hashtag on Twitter (Alinksy Rule 5: Ridicule is man’s most potent weapon. It’s hard to counterattack ridicule, and it infuriates the opposition, which then reacts to your advantage). Or you could do a search for the hashtag #ilikeobamacare (Alinsky Rule 6: A good tactic is one your people enjoy. “If your people aren’t having a ball doing it, there is something very wrong with the tactic.”).

And we can thank Obama’s campaign team, the ones who shined him up and packaged him to the world just four short years ago, for continuing to come up with new hashtags for Conservatives on Twitter to hijack (Alinsky Rule 7: A tactic that drags on for too long becomes a drag. Commitment may become ritualistic as people turn to other issues). It seems that maybe they aren’t as smart as they think they are.

Bring it on, OFA. We’re waiting. See you on Twitter.