Some more on abortion, for the carnage continues (62 million and counting since Roe v. Wade). The United States Supreme Court may soon curtail or even throw out the court’s most wicked ruling from years ago. Washington State is preparing for such and doing all it can to solidify itself as an abortion sanctuary. Yea us. The Evergreen State wants to be the Red State, not conservative mind you, but the one flowing with blood.
This past week I came across an old New York Times piece, written in 1976, just a few years after Roe. The author is Linda Bird Francke. I had not heard of her but apparently back in the day she was a famous pro-abortion journalist. Her article for the Times recalls her experience at an abortion clinic, her appointment to violently end her baby’s life. She entitled her article, “There just wasn’t room in our lives now for another baby.” It’s a stark reminder that God’s moral truth cannot be suppressed, even by one bent on doing so.
“Though I would march myself into blisters for a woman’s right to exercise the option of motherhood, I discovered there in the waiting room that I was not the modern woman I thought I was.
“When my name was called, my body felt so heavy the nurse had to help me into the examining room. I waited for my husband to burst through the door and yell ‘Stop,’ but of course he didn’t. I concentrated on three black spots in the acoustic ceiling until they grew in size to the shape of saucers, while the doctor swabbed my insides with antiseptic.
“‘You’re going to feel a burning sensation now,’ he said, injecting Novocain into the neck of the womb. The pain was swift and severe, and I twisted to get away from him. He was hurting my baby, I reasoned, and the black saucers quivered in the air. ‘Stop,’ I cried, ‘Please stop.’ He shook his head, busy with his equipment. ‘It’s too late to stop now,’ he said. ‘It’ll just take a few more seconds.’
“What good sports we women are. And how obedient. Physically the pain passed even before the hum of the machine signals that the vacuuming of my uterus was completed, my baby sucked up like ashes after a cocktail party. Ten minutes start to finish. And I was back on the arm of the nurse.
“There were 12 beds in the recovery room. Each one had a gaily flowered draw sheet and soft green or blue thermal blanket. It was all very feminine. Lying on these beds for an hour or more were the shocked victims of their sex life, their full wombs now stripped clean, their futures less encumbered.
“Finally, then, it was time for me to leave…. My husband was slumped in the waiting room, clutching a single yellow rose wrapped in a wet paper towel and stuffed into a Baggie.
“We didn’t talk all the way home….
“My husband and I are back to planning our summer vacation now and his career switch.
“It certainly does make more sense not to be having a baby right now—we say that to each other all the time. But I have this ghost now. A very little ghost that only appears when I’m seeing something beautiful, like the full moon on the ocean last weekend. And the baby waves at me. And I wave at the baby. ‘Of course, we have room,’ I cry to the ghost. ‘Of course, we do.’”
This from a pro-choicer, this from a secularist, this from someone who cannot explain away the guilt. When there is no God, there is no forgiveness.
Pastor Rich Hamlin
April 21, 2022