I have not been here in quite sometime. It isn't that I did not want to write. I have been overwhelmed with life, and walking its dusty road. In this life, each day is a gift. Each moment to share all we come in contact, the wonder of our earthly habitation. All of God's creation is more marvelous than we can conceive. As I look into the heavens, the clouds and the sun, the sky with its invisible stars by day, holds in its breath birds of flight. I am amazed. I look into the waters, oceans and rivers and streams, even the lowly puddle following the gentle rain shower. teams with life. I am amazed and overwhelmed with the beauty, the magnitude and the simple singleness of its beauty, life.
I grieve now because life that is so sacred and unique, wonderful beyond words and thoughts has been so cheapened and robbed and defiled. The precious amazing wonder of a single heart beat and how in that one stroke, life's blood circulates, exchanges occur, food changed to energy, waste removed, enzymes and hormones and chemicals made. Electrons course through their pathways carrying messages to and fro, muscles respond.
How can I bring this message I hold in my heart so dear and sacred and true. Life in all stages is a magical precious gift. No matter how conceived. There is no reason to cause its willful, thought through cruel demise. The most precious and vulnerable life of all, an unborn child, is at the mercies of convenience and "healthcare", and "point of view". My God, that precious conceived life is a living human child. Not a choice, it is separate and distinct from the womb in which it is growing. That defenseless child has it's own heart, blood, organs, brain. That tiny heart starts beating before the woman carrying that child knows it is there. What is the choice? Perhaps the choice could have been made months earlier, in prevention, in responsibility, integrity. Perhaps the conception is of violent force, not of free will, an horrid act. We run to aide victims of cruelty, identifying their plight as unfair, inhumane, unAmerican. The native Americans, the agricultural workers, people with skin a different color than white, or black or olive or red. Could the choice be to save an innocent life. My heart aches with deep grief that our society has turned its back on the most innocent and vulnerable amongst us. I grieve deeply.
