Abortion Kills
Today my stomach wrenched. I felt a pain like I did before throwing up the night I got too drunk. It was like someone had a death grip on my viscera. I saw her pained face. She was being guided into Planned Parenthood by two workers. I saw her face, and I felt an aching in my womb. Her child was about to die. Her space was going to be invaded and violently torn apart. I could feel the torment in my space. I tried to continue praying aloud the rosary with the others. I couldn't. A child is dying, being ripped in a most demented way...straight from the mother's womb. The sacred place is being invaded. Lord, please, NO! Stop the evil, the fetal slaughter; this CAN'T BE HAPPENING. I was there but 20 minutes before I left. I thought I would be uplifted by fighting the good fight. I wasn't strong enough. I was the soldier who cracks in battle. He wants to defend his country, but the enemy is too overwhelming. Maybe some day I will go back. The children deserve it.
Let me explain, go way back. Why am I even in Boston? I couldn't ski. I think I was more exhausted from last year than I realized. I couldn't keep up with the training, and I was absolutely miserable. I weighed myself earlier this week, and I was back to the weight I was when I came to MIT, the weight I was when I wasn't menstruating. I'm back in Boston trying to recover before the next term. I'm going to take at least one class, maybe more over the next few weeks. Being back also means I get to spend more time with friends, with Jeremy, making preparations for my vice presidential position, and in general being a better housemate.
I decided to do activities that I didn't have time for over the semester. This includes going to religious events (prayer, mass) and pro-life activities. Every Saturday MIT pro-life members join other pro-life supporters outside Planned Parenthood. We passively protest and pray aloud. We try to talk to girls walking into the clinic.
I arrived there by myself. I didn't want to go as early as the other MIT people did. I rode the T by myself and was concious of people looking at my MIT Pro-Life shirt. Their stares angered me. They incited the raging passion I feel against the belief that a human being could be a nuisance. A pastor came to greet me as I walked toward PP. "Let me help you," he said. I pointed to my shirt to indicate that I was on his side. He hugged me, and I joined the prayers. My heart soared to see a couple dozen pro-lifers to the three pro-choicers protesting. But then I saw her. The first one I saw this morning. Her face was so disturbed. I drew her distressed state into my own being, and I broke. I heard the prayers, but all I could do was bury my face in my hands.
HOW?
Let me explain, go way back. Why am I even in Boston? I couldn't ski. I think I was more exhausted from last year than I realized. I couldn't keep up with the training, and I was absolutely miserable. I weighed myself earlier this week, and I was back to the weight I was when I came to MIT, the weight I was when I wasn't menstruating. I'm back in Boston trying to recover before the next term. I'm going to take at least one class, maybe more over the next few weeks. Being back also means I get to spend more time with friends, with Jeremy, making preparations for my vice presidential position, and in general being a better housemate.
I decided to do activities that I didn't have time for over the semester. This includes going to religious events (prayer, mass) and pro-life activities. Every Saturday MIT pro-life members join other pro-life supporters outside Planned Parenthood. We passively protest and pray aloud. We try to talk to girls walking into the clinic.
I arrived there by myself. I didn't want to go as early as the other MIT people did. I rode the T by myself and was concious of people looking at my MIT Pro-Life shirt. Their stares angered me. They incited the raging passion I feel against the belief that a human being could be a nuisance. A pastor came to greet me as I walked toward PP. "Let me help you," he said. I pointed to my shirt to indicate that I was on his side. He hugged me, and I joined the prayers. My heart soared to see a couple dozen pro-lifers to the three pro-choicers protesting. But then I saw her. The first one I saw this morning. Her face was so disturbed. I drew her distressed state into my own being, and I broke. I heard the prayers, but all I could do was bury my face in my hands.
HOW?