Yes. I am Pro-Life!

One of my most favorite photos of all times. A baby in utero, 10 weeks after conception. So beautiful! It always brings such a sense of awe and wonder to me when I see it. (Not sure who it belongs to so if you know please let me know so I can give proper credit) But not going to lie, it also makes me pretty angry. And I know this will probably make a lot of my friends mad but something has to be said. I am pretty open minded about a lot of things. But not this. Because did you know that at the moment of fertilization, a baby has it's own unique set of human DNA? Or that the sex of the baby has already been determined? That the heart starts beating 18 days from conception (before most of us even know we are pregnant) or that brain waves are detectable at 6 weeks? That at 7 weeks babies suck their thumbs? What about that by 9 weeks from fertilization, all the structures necessary for pain sensation are functioning? Which means that during an abortion, the baby feels everything. Don't believe me? Google an ultrasound video of an abortion. The Silent Scream is one that comes to mind. Watch it and watch the baby try to get away from the vacuum or forceps. Watch that baby literally be ripped apart and die, scared and in agony and still tell me that abortion is okay. And now people have the audacity to say that it's not selling body parts, that it's not the dissection of an innocent baby, but that it's "research." Why on earth would you need to research tissue from something that's not even human? If it's not a human, so doesn't have a right to life, than there is no good reason it needs to be "donated" for research to benefit humans. It has human body parts because it is a HUMAN! But abortion is a womans right you may say. Well I have yet to hear a valid argument on why the baby has no rights. It's sad. It's appalling. And we are so scared of offending people that we stay silent. Meanwhile millions of babies are being slaughtered. Because we stay silent. It's time for us to speak up for those who can't speak for themselves. A lion is killed and the world weeps. I can say as loudly as I can that black lives matter but I forget to mention that more black babies are aborted than born. And don't even get me started on the evil, racist woman that started PP. You can say that all lives matter but not speak up for those most innocent of lives. But we need to remember to be very careful when dealing with women who have had abortions. These women are not our enemy. We have been told our whole lives that not only is it okay to have an abortion but that it's our right. This is not a war on women. It is a war on the organizations and society's that teach that this is okay. We can not convince anyone of anything by calling them names and threatening them. Speak the truth but speak in love. One day not only they will have to answer for their actions but we will have to answer as to why we set back and said nothing while evil prospered. Or why we were the reason someone tturned away from the Pro-Life movement. Do not answer evil with evil. Only love can overcome evil.

A Little Old Pitcher

It doesn't look like much to any one else. Just an old 1970's basin and pitcher set. But to me it's so much more. There was one just like this in our home growing up with my grandpa. Yes it was missing the bowl and the handle was broken off but it was always somewhere in our home, usually on my grandpa's dresser. It was too wide to fit in the place of honor along with the rest of his treasures in his cabinet. So it floated about here and there throughout the years. I didn't think much about it growing up but now that he, along with our childhood home is gone, it means a lot. I don't know where the original ended up (I'm sure in a dump somewhere) and while this is just a duplicate everytime I look at it I will remember my grandpa and the happy memories of my childhood with him. Thank you dear for getting this for me. Not only will I remember my grandpa when I look at this I will remember why I love you so much and how much you really love me. Who knew that a little old pitcher and basin set found in a dusty flea market could mean so much!

You can vaguely see ours in the above picture of me and my grandpa. It's on top of the TV turned so that you see the white side.

A Thank You

Yesterday I briefly spoke to a family member and the conversation stayed with me all day. I kept racking my brain for something to say to her to reassure her that everything was going to be okay. And while I was thinking and worrying about her it finally dawned on me that I was being just like her. That I was just like her. And it made me so very happy!
I always want to make things right. I want to fix wrongs. I want to make people do the right thing. I cry too much over things and people I can't control. It hurts my soul to see my friends or family in pain. Or to see those I care about constantly make bad decisions. It makes me feel angry and heartbroken to see someone I love hurt by others and not be able to do anything about it. I lay awake too many nights worrying about what I can do to fix everything for everybody.  And it just about kills me that I can't. And as troublesome as that is sometimes I am so grateful that I am like that. That I'm someone who cares. Rather than someone who only cares about themselves. I will never be someone who puts my own needs ahead of others. And that's okay. I have a big heart. And I pray that one day I have an impact on someone's life like she's had on mine. Even if I never know.

Most people know or have read previous posts about my childhood so they know it wasn't always pretty. But there were definitely some beautiful parts! And one of the most beautiful things from back then was my Aunt Sheila. She was my role model of what a mom and wife was supposed to be. And she was a pretty great one! To me, she was just about perfect. She was <usually> soft spoken. Always had an easy laugh. Her smile to this day remains one of my favorites in the whole world. She had a lot of fun. And she loved her family so very much. I learned how to be a great mom from her without ever realizing it. I was an odd child. Difficult and different to say the least. But she loved me anyways. She would let me play with her old Barbie's. She would let me come over to her house when I begged my mom to let me go with my brother whenever he went over to play with our cousin. Even though there were only boys to play with. And she would make them play with me. Although most of the time I prefered to just stay wherever she was. And she never seemed to mind tripping over me every time she turned around. She would let me admire and touch all of her wonderful Christmas decorations that seemed so magical to me. She would let me sit at the kitchen table and just listen to the grown ups talk for hours when the others would shoo me out of the room because lets face it, I was annoying. And every once in awhile she would glance at me across the room and catch me watching her laughing and she would give me a quick wink. And my heart would quietly explode with love for this woman that I would never know how to express. I didn't get the fairy tale life with all of the perfect family members or home. But I did get the cool aunt from all of my storybooks. The one that the heroine of the story always worshipped and wanted to be just like! 

And then I grew up. I left to find myself. We stayed in touch but I retreated from literally all of my family for awhile. Although no matter how long I could go without contacting her or how many times,  the moment I called I was welcomed in like I had never left. Things changed for all of us. Many times. In ways that we never would have guessed. But that's life I guess. It has a funny way of taking everything you know and shaking it all up and throwing you back out to see what side you land on. Always when you're least expecting it, it seems.

I've never been great at saying the things I needed to say. The things I want to say. And that's why I write. To express the things I can not say.  So this is me saying thank you for being you. For being a bright spot in a child's otherwise dark world. For caring too much. And I am proud to get to say that even a small part of myself, takes after you. And yesterday,  when I laughed and yelled "Love ya" this is what I meant. Which honestly, basically comes down to, is exactly what I said. I love you Aunt Sheila.