Words from The Crone

OMG, who knew that it would take all afternoon to debate the merits of same-sex marriage?  Okay, I guess if you weren’t  liberal like me, and if you didn’t believe being gay was genetic, and if you believed that God thought same-sex love was an abomination, you would actually want several years to argue your case.  And, yesterday in the Senate chamber of the state of Delaware, those arguing against voting for a “genderless” marriage law probably wanted days and days to convince Senators to vote “No.”

I have been involved in advocating for LGBT rights for over four years now.  I’m straight and in a heterosexual marriage so it isn’t a natural for me to be so involved.  However, a relative of mine is the “T” in that mouthful of alphabet letters attributed to the “Gay” population, and so it started.  At first my involvement was rather benign, just attending a rally or meeting here or there.  Then I got more involved in an Episcopal organization that supports LGBT folks called appropriately, Integrity.  The name was taken from Psalm 84:11 which reads:

No Good thing will the Lord withhold from those who walk with integrity.

I like to think that we all strive to walk with integrity, and once upon a time, in a mind-set far, far away, I was naïve enough to think that everyone did walk with integrity.  My involvement in the LGBT community and their journey in living a life full of dignity and integrity, without labels, without fear of discrimination, and with full and equal rights in this great country has led me to understand otherwise.

For some reason it never occurred to me that same-sex couples would want to get “married.”  They never did so far as I knew.  And why now, when so many heterosexual couples are simply living together and eschewing marriage altogether.  What I didn’t realize, and what my journey with them through Integrity has taught me, is that they never had that choice.  Marry or not marry.

Of course, then in 1992, I believe, some idiot decided that marriage should only be between a man and a woman.  I guess that made sense to them since only men and women had married up to that point.  The law was called DOMA – Defense of Marriage Act. Maybe it was promulgated because a male-male, or female-female couple asked to be married.  I don’t admit to knowing all the reasons why DOMA came to be, I only know that it is wrong.  Homosexual men and Lesbian women, or any of the other LGBT community, are as equal as any heterosexual person.  We are all born the same way, look the same way, are defined by our DNA, and we all love the same.  We should all be treated the same way.  Period.  No debate.  DOMA must be repealed, and God willing, it will be in June of this year.

And, my dear friends, that is why I was in Legislative Hall last week to support the historic vote to make my state the 11^th state in the nation to approve same-sex, or genderless, marriage.  Marriage signifies a commitment to love and honor and care for the person you love.  Marriage also, at the federal level, conveys upon a married couple some 1138 privileges such as filing joint tax returns, inheritance rights, and so many others it would take too much space to list, but you can find them all HERE.

Bible Thumpers, as I like to call them because they thump on the Bible and pick and choose verses that suit their cause, call our LGBT friends an “abomination.”  A name culled from a couple of mis-interpreted passages in the Christian Holy Bible.  These folks do not walk with integrity.  They do not respect the dignity and right of every human being.  Not a single one of God’s creation is an “abomination.”  None.  Nada.  No One.  We are all created equal.  Many don’t believe that yet, and there are still too many people experiencing discrimination.

Marriage equality, is only one step in a long climb up the staircase of equality for each and every one of God’s children.  .  My prayer is that someday on this fragile planet earth we call our home, we will reach the top of that staircase and there will be full equality for every human being.  Only then will all people truly walk with integrity.

It seems everywhere I turn someone has cancer these days.  In our little development there are at least three that I know of and maybe more that I don’t know about.  One has oral neck and throat cancer, one has esophageal cancer, and one has colon cancer.  Only one is old; the other two are both in their forties.  My sister-in-law and my cousin have both had breast cancer, and thankfully survived more than five years.  My pet sitter has survived two bouts of breast cancer, and two other friends are also breast cancer survivors.  Many of my friends were not so blessed and died from the disease.

Just recently my beautiful “adopted,” daughter found out she has breast cancer too.  She has had her surgery and is now undergoing four chemotherapy sessions of some really nasty poison, followed by six weeks of radiation.  This one has hit particularly close to home and I am sick at heart about it.  We are 1,000 miles away and unable to be of much help.  So, we have taken a rental house just 20 miles from her so that we can be available if she ever needs help during her radiation.

As I think back over my 70+ crone years, it is hard to recall more than one person a year, if that, who had cancer.  Now it seems it is rampant.  Folks will say, “Oh, it has always been around, we just didn’t call it cancer.”  Maybe, but probably not in the numbers we are seeing today.  There has to be some reason for this.  But what?  Obviously, some of our life styles are responsible – smokers, for example.  Some work in dangerous places like coal mines.  Also, we know that hormonal imbalance contributes to breast cancer, but there have to be others.

Well, for one we have the genetic factor that says if your mother had breast cancer you are more likely to get it.  Or, if parents, siblings, grandparents all had cancer you are more likely to get it.  If that is true, and it seems to be, then I am among the fortunate ones who have no cancer on either side of my family at least back to my great-grandparents.

My personal belief is that there are two overriding factors contributing to increasing cancer rates.  First, the air we breathe.  It is polluted beyond belief.  In 1957 I drove across country with my parents and visited many national parks.  They were beautiful and the air was crisp and clear.  In 2011 I drove across country with my spouse and daughter and visited many national parks.  They were still beautiful, but the air was hazy which made the views less than pristine.  Fly over the United States and you will see what I mean.

I live in a mid-Atlantic state and it has the highest cancer rate per capita of any other state because of our air pollution from a variety of industries.  They (the government) are studying it.  Great, but I hope they clean it up before the study is over.  I know that they are trying, but it is going to be a long haul.

The second factor I believe is contributing to cancer is the food we eat.  I just read an article about chickens that stated that chicken processing plants inject hormones and antibiotics into the eggs and the baby chicks in order to do something.  Make them bigger, fatter, meatier, whatever.  I understand they do that with beef and pork as well and God knows what else.  Then there are other processed foods that, if you take a look at the labels, are loaded with chemicals.  Chemicals to preserve, color, improve taste, you name it.  In my day we added salt to improve taste and preserve food and the only color added to anything was henna that women used to color hair.  Now those chemicals added to our food have names that even I, with a degree in chemistry, have trouble pronouncing.  All of these additives simply cannot be good for us.

Cancer research has come a long way, baby, but it still has a long way to go.  In the meantime, we should all be working to clean up our environment and our food sources, at the very least.  As for me, I don’t eat processed food if I know it has chemical additives.  I don’t eat meat, and I buy chickens that are fed naturally without antibiotics and hormones. I buy fresh vegetables and fruit and wash them well.  I buy freshly baked bread.  I try to keep what goes into my body as close to what nature intended as possible.  I have moved out into the country where the air is cleaner. And, I put all of those people I know who have cancer on my personal prayer list for healing.  If all else fails maybe God can produce a miracle or two.

It is Palm Sunday.  I am an Episcopal priest.  I am supposed to go to church.  I am particularly supposed to go to church on high holy days.  I am almost mandated to go to church during Holy Week.  And yet, I didn’t go to church today

In fact, other than being a supply priest for others on vacation or ill, I haven’t gone to a regular church service as an observer since Christmas Eve.  I am not a sinner.  I don’t feel guilty.  I have my reasons.  Good reasons.

There are many churches we have attended during our 33 years of marriage.  Some, like the little church in Connecticut had the most gawd awful pews with pencil thin seats, cheese-grater kneelers, and straight as a board seat backs.  It was all one could to do to endure the hour service.  Luckily, Episcopalians stand, sit, kneel, sit, stand, sit, walk to the altar rail, etc. during the service so there was a fair amount or relief from these pews and kneelers.  Others, like one in Florida had these fabulous broad and wide cushioned pews with luxuriously padded kneelers and one didn’t mind a two hour service or concert.

When one is young and strong and, well you know, bullet-proof, it was easier to endure the hardships of unbearable pews.  And, we did in a variety of churches.  But then, something happened.  We got old.  And, then we got older.  Pews got harder and services drifted from one hour to one hour and ten minutes, then one hour and twenty minutes.  Good thing for all that sitting, kneeling, walking.

But, the real straw that broke the camel’s back had nothing to do with the pews themselves.  It had everything to do with those gol-dang birthdays, backs, and bladders!

Birthdays:  R is an octogenarian now.  I am a septuagenarian.  We have had 153 birthdays between us.  It is no longer easy to navigate through life.  We are no longer bullet-proof.  In fact, we are riddled with the bullets of old age, degenerating systems, less than perfect immune systems, liver spots, thin skin, failing eyesight, ever diminishing hearing, etc. etc. etc.  You get the picture.

Backs:  An encounter with a Mack truck wrecked my back years ago, but two surgeries helped me continue to walk and, thank God, be relatively pain free.  Until that nasty stuff called arthritis reared its ugly head and no amount of surgery or pain killers seem to satisfy that demon.  Back pain is now my constant companion.

My R has what the doctors call a ratty back.  No discs, riddled with arthritis, auto-fused cervical vertebrae, and more than a bit of scoliosis causing him to tilt to the right.  Not good.  Worse than mine, actually, and by the end of the day he crawls upstairs and into bed for some relief.  He also had fallen arches so he now needs a pew in front of him to hold onto for balance so he doesn’t go crashing head first into the worshiper in front of him during a rousing rendition of Joyful, Joyful, we adore thee.  Our church does have nice, comfortable chairs in the front row for those physically challenged, but nothing in front of them for my R to hold himself upright.

Bladders:  And finally, that awful “B” word – bladder.  Yes, having had 28 various surgeries, two deliveries of not so tiny babies, and just years of degenerating bladder muscles, I now find myself visiting what my mother used to call “Mrs. Murphy,” (don’t ask me why because I don’t know) more often than when I was in my, ahem, shall we say prime.  And, to make matters worse, what I call my most active “P” times are, you guessed it, mornings.

Now, the church we usually attend has those terrible pews so our backs are in a constant state of complaint.  There is also no bathroom in the church building.  One has to traverse out of the church, across the graveyard, into the parish house and down the hall to reach the ladies room.  Many of you know that with advancing age your early warning bladder system doesn’t always give you a lot of notice, so it is important to have a straight shot, of short distance to well, um, you know, make it in time.

And that, is why I didn’t go to my usual church this morning.  I couldn’t take it anymore.  Or more accurately our backs and bladders couldn’t take it anymore.  We are looking for a church where the pews are mostly comfortable.  We are looking for a church where R can rest the hymnal on the back of the pew so he can balance himself while singing the hymns.  And I am looking for a church where the ladies room is not more than 40 feet away.

Then, and only then, I might start attending church more regularly.  Those are my reasons and I know that Jesus understands, and God forgives!

Here it is the Ides of March and we all know that means…dum da dum dum dah…death.  Yes, it was on this date that Julius Caesar was assassinated by Brutus.  Beware the Ides of March.  Well, let me tell you, I have had my own Ides this past week.

Aunt Alice at her 90th Birthday Bash

First, on March 6^th, my favorite, fabulous, fantastic Aunt Alice up and died on me at age 92.  She was on everyone’s “The best….” List.  I was planning on attending her 100^th birthday, but alas that was not to be.  Her 4’8” perky little body simply couldn’t keep up with her, I guess.  But, she was on special lady and I never heard her ever, ever say a bad word about anyone.  Rest in peace, my sweet Aunt Alice.  We’ll all miss you.

Then, if that wasn’t enough, the dear husband of one of my closest seminary classmates died on Saturday, March 9^th.  That passing was actually a blessing because he had been suffering from a nasty liver disease for five years.  His illness took a toll on my friend as it does on many faithful and loving caregivers.  Often we overlook the fact that care giving can be as, or more, debilitating than the dying one.  Our attention is so focused on the one who is ill that we either forget or ignore the draining strength and energy of the one standing sentry, waiting, watching, loving, and giving generous and selfless care, day in and day out.  Often without respite.  May John rest in peace, and may Yvonne rest and recover.

Not yet a week later there was a terrible crashing sound coming from our downstairs.  It sounded like someone dropped an air conditioner on the floor.  I was upstairs on the telephone when it happened.  K came running out asking what happened.  I was too distracted by my phone call to answer her.  Finally, I went downstairs to see if perchance the dining room table had collapsed, or the stove blew up, or something dreadful.  Nothing.

Then, we looked out on the deck and there lying dead as a door nail was our Cooper’s Hawk.  He is a beautiful bird, about the size of a large parrot.  Our aviary is a favorite hunting ground for him as he swoops in to capture his lunch of finch or sparrow or robin.  He has been hunting these grounds for the eight years we have lived in this part of the world.  Now, sadly he has come to an untimely death.

We determined that the crash we heard was our hawk crashing into one of our windows that overlooks the deck.  From the outside, the reflection in the window looks just like the sky and we often have birds that fly into them, thinking all was well.  Over the years we’ve only lost on goldfinch.  But, to lose such a magnificent, beautiful bird just filled me with sadness.  Later that day K went to go out on the deck and noticed a large dead robin about six feet from the dead hawk.  Oh no, not two dead birds in one day.  How tragic.

Either the hawk was chasing the robin and they both crashed one after the other, or the hawk had the robin in his talons and together, as one, at high speed they flew into their window of death.  I laid a newspaper out on a small table on the deck, and with a paper towel lifted both of these wonderful birds onto the paper.  We left them there a two days.  It was our funeral wake for them.  We even talked about giving them a Christian burial.  In the end, I gave a silent prayer for them, wrapped them up in the paper, and disposed of them.  May they also rest in bird-peace, wherever that may be.

My Ides I hope are over now and that no one and no living creature will die again soon.  Oh, I know that there is more death to come for every living thing dies eventually.  But, just for today on this Ides of death, dear God, let everything live.  Thanks.

I found this on Facebook and thought to myself, well, I wonder if it works.  So, I am going to try it.  I figure it can’t hurt me and might just help my cholesterol.  If I could get my daughter to try it for a month it might help her arthritis and immune system.  If I could get my spouse to try it for the rest of his life he might just live to be 106 ½ and attend my 100^th birthday party!

Facts on Honey and Cinnamon: 
It is found that a mix of honey and Cinnamon cures most diseases. Honey is produced in most of the countries of the world. Scientists of today also note honey as very effective medicine for all kinds of diseases. Honey can be used without side effects which is also a plus.Today’s science says that even though honey is sweet, when it is taken in the right dosage as a medicine, it does not harm even diabetic patients. Researched by western scientists:

HEART DISEASES: Make a paste of honey and cinnamon powder, put it on toast instead of jelly and jam and eat it regularly for breakfast. It reduces the cholesterol and could potentially save one from heart attack. Also, even if you have already had an attack studies show you could be kept miles away from the next attack. Regular use of cinnamon honey strengthens the heart beat. In America and Canada, various nursing homes have treated patients successfully and have found that as one ages the arteries and veins lose their flexibility and get clogged; honey and cinnamon revitalize the arteries and the veins.

ARTHRITIS: Arthritis patients can benefit by taking one cup of hot water with two tablespoons of honey and one small teaspoon of cinnamon powder. When taken daily even chronic arthritis can be cured. In a recent research conducted at the Copenhagen University, it was found that when the doctors treated their patients with a mixture of one tablespoon Honey and half teaspoon Cinnamon powder before breakfast, they found that within a week (out of the 200 people so treated) practically 73 patients were totally relieved of pain — and within a month, most all the patients who could not walk or move around because of arthritis now started walking without pain.

BLADDER INFECTIONS: Take two tablespoons of cinnamon powder and one teaspoon of honey in a glass of lukewarm water and drink it. It destroys the germs in the bladder….who knew?

CHOLESTEROL: Two tablespoons of honey and three teaspoons of Cinnamon Powder mixed in 16 ounces of tea water given to a cholesterol patient was found to reduce the level of cholesterol in the blood by 10 percent within two hours. As mentioned for arthritic patients, when taken three times a day, any chronic cholesterol-could be cured. According to information received in the said Journal, pure honey taken with food daily relieves complaints of cholesterol.

COLDS: Those suffering from common or severe colds should take one tablespoon lukewarm honey with 1/4 spoon cinnamon powder daily for three days. This process will cure most chronic cough, cold, and, clear the sinuses, and it’s delicious too!

UPSET STOMACH: Honey taken with cinnamon powder cures stomach ache and also is said to clear stomach ulcers from its root.

GAS: According to the studies done in India and Japan, it is revealed that when Honey is taken with cinnamon powder the stomach is relieved of gas.

IMMUNE SYSTEM: Daily use of honey and cinnamon powder strengthens the immune system and protects the body from bacterial and viral attacks. Scientists have found that honey has various vitamins and iron in large amounts. Constant use of Honey strengthens the white blood corpuscles (where DNA is contained) to fight bacterial and viral diseases.

INDIGESTION: Cinnamon powder sprinkled on two tablespoons of honey taken before food is eaten relieves acidity and digests the heaviest of meals

INFLUENZA: A scientist in Spain has proved that honey contains a natural ‘Ingredient’ which kills the influenza germs and saves the patient from flu.

LONGEVITY: Tea made with honey and cinnamon powder, when taken regularly, arrests the ravages of old age. Use four teaspoons of honey, one teaspoon of cinnamon powder, and three cups of boiling water to make a tea. Drink 1/4 cup, three to four times a day. It keeps the skin fresh and soft and arrests old age. Life spans increase and even a 100 year old will start performing the chores of a 20-year-old.

RASPY OR SORE THROAT: When throat has a tickle or is raspy, take one tablespoon of honey and sip until gone. Repeat every three hours until throat is without symptoms.

PIMPLES: Three tablespoons of honey and one teaspoon of cinnamon powder paste. Apply this paste on the pimples before sleeping and wash it off the next morning with warm water. When done daily for two weeks, it removes all pimples from the root.

SKIN INFECTIONS:Applying honey and cinnamon powder in equal parts on the affected parts cures eczema, ringworm and all types of skin Infections.

WEIGHT LOSS:Daily in the morning one half hour before breakfast and on an empty stomach, and at night before sleeping, drink honey and cinnamon powder boiled in one cup of water. When taken regularly, it reduces the weight of even the most obese person. Also, drinking this mixture regularly does not allow the fat to accumulate in the body even though the person may eat a high calorie diet.

CANCER: Recent research in Japan and Australia has revealed that advanced cancer of the stomach and bones have been cured successfully. Patients suffering from these kinds of cancer should daily take one tablespoon of honey with one teaspoon of cinnamon powder three times a day for one month.

FATIGUE: Recent studies have shown that the sugar content of honey is more helpful rather than being detrimental to the strength of the body. Senior citizens who take honey and cinnamon powder in equal parts are more alert and flexible. Dr. Milton, who has done research, says that a half tablespoon of honey taken in a glass of water and sprinkled with cinnamon powder, even when the vitality of the body starts to decrease, when taken daily after brushing and in the afternoon at about 3:00 P.M., the vitality of the body increases within a week.

BAD BREATH: People of South America, gargle with one teaspoon of honey and cinnamon powder mixed in hot water first thing in the morning so their breath stays fresh throughout the day.

HEARING LOSS: Daily morning and night honey and cinnamon powder, taken in equal parts restores hearing.

Now, I wonder how much honey and how much cinnamon to take for multiple issues?  Hmmmmm….sounds to me like three or four times a day.  I guess I’ll just have to try and see what happens.  Cheers.

Birdseye view from my window

It all started out with one tiny little bird feeder on a cold November morning eight years ago.  We used the commercially available mixed feed and were faithful in keeping it filled.  Our mornings were delighted with the few common house Finches that visited our little aviary as I called it.  There were also some ducks on the pond in our back yard and we felt blessed to have these feathery friends nearby so that we could officially be called “bird watchers.”  Once spring we even fed the ducks until about a dozen of them showed up daily and we couldn’t keep up with their culinary demands.

After the second year we decided to try a new food that assured us we would attract a larger variety of bird.  We switched to black oil Sunflower seeds.  Oh, my, what have we done?  Each year we keep attracting more and more birds and more and more varieties.  To date we have House Finches, Gold Finches, Sparrows, Juncos, Cardinals, Grackles, Starlings, Mourning Doves, Red-wing blackbirds, Wrens, Blue Jays, and Chickadees.  Early on a Mockingbird even showed up for a while.  Our aviary was well staffed.

At any given time we have between 30 and 50 birds at our feeders.  Yes, I said, feeders, plural.  We eventually ditched our tiny plastic thingy and replaced it with two large capacity feeders (about 16 cups each) and one round, caged feeder that holds about three cups.  Oh dear, it now costs us about $20/week just to feed these little dinosaurs.  Yes, birds are descendants of those huge dinosaurs that went extinct, thank God.  We fill the feeders on Sundays and Wednesdays and if they empty them out sooner than that, oh, well.  Strangely enough, the feeders get completely empty only hours before another refill.

Mourning Dove checking out the ornamental frogs

Redwing Blackbird checking me out.

At the feeder

Then, one day there was a medium sized gray squirrel that showed up at our feeders.  He (or maybe she) wasn’t very successful at hanging onto the feeders, but all those birds manage to scratch a lot of seed out of the feeders onto our deck.  Thus, Scotty squirrel now comes daily to feast on those yummy sunflowers seeds on the deck.  I can’t give names to all our birds, but I did name the squirrel just for fun.  So far we have only one Scotty, but who knows, maybe another will show up someday.  We don’t have a lot of trees around our pond so it unusual for there to be any squirrels nearby.  And the squirrel-ry was born.

Scotty

Well, now we have the aviary and a squirrel-ry.  But, wait there’s more.  One evening a very beautiful and handsome gray cat showed up on the deck.  She/he was quite friendly allowing us to come near and even pet her.  How strange for a feral cat, we thought.  Hmmm.  Must be a domestic cat that someone abandoned when they left a rental in our complex.  And here it was November and getting cold.  I would have adopted her/him, but my R is

Grayson

highly allergic.  Sigh.  So, I put out some of our dog kibble for Grayson (yes, I named her/him too).  Amazingly, Grayson went right for the food and even let me pet her/him while she/he ate.  The next day I added some chicken to Grayson’s dish.  She faithfully visits our deck every day, and now I call Grayson her, while my R calls Grayson him.  Voila, a cattery.

My daughter and my R sometimes roll their eyes at the vast menagerie we have attracted.  My sentiment?  I think the God wants us to take care of God’s critters and I’m doing my best when it is cold and little natural food available.  I do however worry about what might show up on our deck next?

Time for a refill

Okay, I’ve had it!  I am sick and tired of doctors using the phrase, “At your age.” I can’t remember exactly when it first happened, but I do remember the first time a doctor referenced the fact that I was getting older.  My doctor, in those days the term primary care was not yet invented; you either went to your “doctor” or you went to a “specialist.”  At any rate, I was complaining of some pain or the other and my doctor said, “Well, you know Rita, you’re no spring chicken!”  I was 35 years-old for God’s sake.  I’m not sure, but I think I told him what I thought of that comment.

The last time this happened to me was about a month ago at my foot doctor.  I had this really bad pain in the sole of my right foot and after examining it, I asked him what he thought we should do.  I mean, after all, he was the expert, right?  He said, “Well, at your age we don’t really want to put you through surgery.”  What in God’s good world does my age have to do with having surgery on my foot?  Thankfully, a squishy pad and some Celebrex® took care of the problem.  But, for someone who has undergone some 28 surgeries in my life, surgery on my foot was not an issue in my mind, so why should the doctor care?  Oh yeah, “at my age.”

Several times our primary care physician has referenced our “age,” as if to say we were getting to that time in our life when it just simply wouldn’t be worth it to have one treatment or another, usually a surgery or some expensive test or treatment.  It has always struck me as if they are saying, well, since you’re already 73 (or whatever old age) you have more life behind you than ahead of you and you should be ready to die.  So what?

Well, hello?  I AM NOT READY TO DIE.  I know that I will die at some future date, we all do.  But, I am happily looking forward to my 100^th birthday and that is over 25 years from now.  I still have many things to do in my life and if a test or a surgery will keep me patched up, then patch away.

So, doctors, listen up.  Stop saying “at your age,” when thinking about one treatment, test, or other option.  Instead, think about the best thing you can to do to keep us moving and living and going forward.  Don’t even think about some lesser form of treatment that won’t be as effective.  I want the best and the newest, and believe me I am not alone in this opinion.

My life should be as precious and as important to save as anyone else, be they ten or twenty or fifty or ninety.  See, if God invented a treatment, developed a treatment, perfected a treatment, then it should be used for the good of all of us at any “age.”  That’s my take on this “at your age” stuff and I’m sticking to it.  So, stick it in your ear, doc.

My first encounter with the word “Abortion” was in 1949 when I was ten.  I was reading the newspaper with my family, a nightly tradition after dinner, when I found an article about a young girl who had an abortion.  I asked my parents, “What does the word abortion mean?”  Usually, they told me to look up the word in the dictionary, but this time my mother said something to the effect that it was a form of miscarriage.  I got that, and went on reading.

I learned more about abortion at the age of 15 when a girl in our hometown had an illegal abortion and died.  The newspapers were all over it and the explicit horrors of abortion were spelled out.  I remember thinking, how gruesome and how awful it must have been for that poor girl.

My mother always told me that if I ever got pregnant (outside of marriage that is) that I shouldn’t bother coming home.  That sounds rather cruel itself, but my mother was all about her place in society and having an unwed, pregnant daughter just wasn’t in the cards for her.  I knew that if I ever did get pregnant like that, I would never go to get an abortion.  I might have been stupid enough to get pregnant, but I wasn’t stupid enough to risk my life.  Gratefully, I didn’t get pregnant until I was legally married.  Phew.

The 1973 Roe v. Wade decision came as a great relief to me.  Not because I needed to have an abortion, but because for those girls and women who did, it could now be done in the safe environment of a clinic or hospital.  As a young mother at that time, I didn’t consider abortion as murder because I was raised to believe that life began when the fetus was able to breathe and sustain life outside of the uterus.  I still believe this.

Recently, with the 40^th anniversary of Roe v. Wade, the newspapers are flooded with articles, letters to the editor, and columns about either the pros or the cons of abortion.  The Pro-Life folks shower us with the numbers – hundreds of thousands to millions – of aborted fetuses – murder they call it.  They tell us that we are killing the future Einsteins or Bernsteins or Rubinstein.  That we are depriving these children of a future life filled with love and promise.

The Pro-Choice folks shower us with the stories of the lives of the women who have chosen abortion and how, while a difficult decision, were saved from the misery associated with raising a child born of rape and incest, or a child they were unable to afford to feed.  They tell us about the saving the health of these women, how the abortion saved their futures, and about women’s reproductive right to make choices.  I am Pro-Choice and I like the fact that we are concerned about the lives of real, honest, living, women.

But. But.  Rarely do either of these groups address the future of those aborted fetuses.  Rarely do you hear what the future might hold for them if they were born.  The Pro-Life folks never say, “I’ll adopt one and give it a loving home.”  The Pro-Choice folks never have to say that. The subject is rarely brought into the abortion debate.

I remember years and years ago in the 1950’s, The New York Times used to annually publish the cases of child abuse, just in NY City alone.  It was a whole section of its own and contained thousands of names and the specific abuse they suffered.  Beatings with cords, burnings, broken bones, torture really in many cases.  I wonder how many of those fetuses would have been abused, abandoned, or sold into child pornography rings, or God help us, even into slavery?

I wonder how many of those fetuses would have ended up on the street corners peddling drugs or  their bodies?  I wonder how many of those fetuses would have ended up homeless, or mentally ill, or thieves, or dependent on state welfare, or in prison?  I wonder how many of those fetuses would have been serial killers, or would have gone on a rampage and killed 20 first graders?  Not all those fetuses would be Einsteins.

The reality we hide in the closet and rarely speak about is the fact that when a woman wants an abortion, she doesn’t want the child.  I repeat, she doesn’t want the child. They are unwanted, will be unloved, and therefore, will be more susceptible to abuse of one kind or another.  Unless they are adopted into loving families (and even some of those turn out badly), these children, were they to be born, are doomed to a life none of us would choose to live.  And so, I am Pro-Choice.  An unwanted child hasn’t got much of a chance, the mother hasn’t got much of a chance, and it is time for society to understand and recognize the burden that puts on society.  Mind you, I am not against life, I am very much in favor or life as I define it, but there are times when a woman may have to make hard choices about having a child or not.

Having said that, I do not believe that abortion should be used as a regular substitute for birth control.  Since 1963 we have had birth control pills, and before that, condoms.  Sure, they are not perfect, and sure sometimes a pregnancy can result, but the probability of that happening is very small.  Today we have not only “the pill,” but foams, and IUD’s, and “the morning after” pill.  With proper access and education unwanted pregnancies should plummet with the proper use of contraception methods.

Guttmacher Statistics for 2008 states that nearly half of the pregnancies among American woman are unintended.  Guttmacher also reports that there are 19.6 abortions per 1,000 women, or two percent of the population of women aged 15-44.  Of those, however, almost three-quarters of the women were either not on birth control or were using birth control inconsistently.  Another reason that education and availability of birth control is a much smarter way to prevent pregnancy and lower the abortion rate.

At the end of the day, when I wonder and ponder about all sides of the abortion issue, I am still Pro-Choice.  But, then again, we all have our own opinions.  On this issue, the Pro-Life and the Pro-Choice will never meet.  Of that chasm, I am certain, because we are still debating the issue after 40 years.

My R turned 80 this past week and since he has all the “Stuff” he will ever need, he now looks for “experiences.”  Like music, theatre, museums, travel, inn weekends, and the like.  And so it was that I gave him four nights at the most idyllic inn on the Eastern Shore of Maryland for his birthday gift.  The Whitehaven Inn is right on the Wicomico river and our large and comfortable room with a view and a fireplace was simply perfect.

We lazed, played games, read magazines, took walks, ate at some good and not so good restaurants, and enjoyed lively conversations with the innkeeper and the assistant innkeeper.  We had the entire inn to ourselves and it was peaceful, calming, and restorative.

On our last night our daughter treated us to dinner at one of our favorite restaurants in Crisfield, MD where we savored roasted oysters, Caesar salad, yummy sun-dried tomato bread, rib-eye steak, asparagus, and then topped it all off with a delicious Crème Brule boasting a single candle and a round of “Happy Birthday.”  A perfect gift.

Back at the inn we lit a fire in our fireplace, kicked back to relax before bed, and soak in the ambience one last night.  However, I decided it was time to check my Facebook account and catch up on the news.  What hit me first was “Shooting in Sandy Hook.”  That name was familiar, isn’t Sandy Hook in New Jersey.  Another post read “Massacre in Connecticut.”  Connecticut?  Where is Sandy Hook in Connecticut?  A few posts down was a post of the entire article which read, “School children killed in shooting in Newtown, CT.”  Oh, THAT Sandy Hook.  I lived in Connecticut for 22 years and I know where that is.  As the news seeped deep into my psyche I knew that our four day idyll was over.  Broken.

I called out to R and he came over to my computer as we then read the story of the massacre at the Sandy Hook Elementary school last Friday.  My daughter lives in Newtown so I immediately texted her and asked if she had heard the news.  She was at the AKC dog show in Orlando.  She immediately texted me back – “Hear?”  then another text “One of my friend’s granddaughter was killed there this morning.”  She called me the next day and we talked at length about it.

I haven’t stopped crying every time I think about it and neither has my daughter.  Maybe it is too close to home.  Maybe it is because it is little children, all only six or seven-years old.  Maybe it is because those adults who died tried so hard to stop it and couldn’t. Maybe it is just the complete and utter insanity of it all.  Maybe it is because I am so angry that we have over 10,000 deaths by gunshot per year in this country when all other countries have less than 100 per year and still we fail to institute sane gun control laws.  Maybe I weep because we can’t identify those with mental illness in such a way to prevent such happenings. Maybe I don’t even know, but am just overwhelmed by the sadness and tragedy of it all.

I think of not only those who died, but those who lived through such an ordeal.  I think of the parents who lost their child.  I think of Christmases that will be forever shattered by the memory of this slaughter.  I think of the children and teachers who must go back to that horrible crime scene who might never feel safe there again.  I think of those who will relive that memory over and over and over.  I weep for all of them because it was all so senseless and will impact so many lives forever.

I wish that we could find a way to prevent such massacres in the future, but much as I pray for that, I am not hopeful that we can ever reach that idyllic state.  In our free society we simply can’t lock up every person who is a bit odd, or off, or withdrawn, or whatever.  However, I do believe it is time for a meaningful, nation-wide conversation about how we address mental health issues because there are children who exhibit warning signs who need help.

And so, I pray.  I pray hard.  I pray to God that the healing power of the Holy Spirit will somehow wrap itself around each and every person’s heart, soothing that terrible ache and pain that will seemingly never go away.  Ever.

But, I also pray for Adam and for his mother and family.  Adam was obviously a tortured twisted soul who if he were of a sane, whole mind would never have gone on that rampage.  May he and all those who died by his hand rest in eternal peace. Amen. Amen.