Yesterday morning I attended a Mass at a new chapel overlooking an abortion clinic, one of the handful in town stationed conspicuously in black neighborhoods. Kneeling in the adoration room, the only thing between you and the entrance to the abortion facility forty feet away is the tabernacle and two corner windows. I felt a little dizzy.
Later that night was my high school reunion. I went with mixed intentions - in hopes of seeing people I'd lost touch with, and to see how other people turned out.
All of the girls from my old neighborhood were there. To the girl, they went to public schools, started having sex early, and before they were married, had had at least one abortion. One, who aborted in ninth grade, had left the Church, married, became a pro-life advocate, had kids, divorced, and remarried. Another married after two abortions, renewed her Catholic faith, had four kids, but intentionally stopped there. One, who had aborted twice, including her future Catholic husband's first child, caught him in an affair, and is on the path to divorce. Another married, had two kids, intentionally stopped, but is still married.
If only their parents were paying attention to how early they had gone so far off course.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment