The Joy and Pain of Love, by Stephanie Gray

     The other evening I babysat my nieces and nephews while my sister and her husband had a date night.  Their littlest guy, who is 17 months old, took their departure remarkably well (it helped that he didn’t notice they left).  But when I was getting him ready for bed a couple hours later, he was captivated by the picture of his parents that hangs above his change table: “Mommy,” he said, “Daddy.”  “Yes,” I responded, “They’re at Costco,” knowing he was familiar with adventures there (and yes, my sister and her husband consider that a date night; go, Costco!). 

     But as Carl kept repeating “Mommy” and “Daddy” and reaching up to the photo, his eyes began to fill with tears.  You could see that his little one-year-old heart felt the special connection any child should feel to his parents.  He felt desire for the presence of the two people he has the deepest bond with.  Because of that, he also felt the profound ache of separation.  As I reflected on this, I thought about both the joy and pain of love.

     That concept is brought to light in the 1993 film Shadowlands, the real-life story of author C.S. Lewis finding love.  Upon a friend’s recommendation I watched it last year and was profoundly moved by its message.

     Lewis, played by Anthony Hopkins, didn’t marry until his fifties.  At that time, an American woman came into his life and initially their relationship was a non-romantic friendship based on shared intellectual interests.  In fact, although Lewis civilly married Joy Davidman Gresham it was simply so she could legally remain in Great Britain.  At that time they did not live as husband and wife.  When Joy was diagnosed with cancer, however, Lewis realized how he truly loved her and, in the presence of a minister, they married around her hospital bed.  In a mercy, Joy recovered—unfortunately, though, for only a few short years before cancer would take her from this earth. 

     In one poignant scene where Lewis and Joy travel around the scenic countryside of England, they discuss what inevitably will come:

Joy: “I’m going to die.  And I want to be with you then too.  The only way I can do that is if I’m able to talk to you about it now.”

Lewis: “I’ll manage somehow; don’t worry about me.”

Joy: “No.  I think it can be better than that.  I think it can be better than just managing.  What I’m trying to say is that the pain then is part of the happiness now.  That’s the deal.”

     The pain then is part of the happiness now. 

      There is a trade-off inherent to love—to truly embrace it means to also embrace loss.  One can only avoid the suffering of loss by refusing to enter into love—but the experience of not loving is much worse than the experience of loving and losing.  Lewis explains this in his book The Four Loves, which was published just months before Joy died:

     “To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket—safe, dark, motionless, airless—it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable.”

     To be deeply happy with Joy while she was alive, Lewis had to let his heart deeply love.  Yes, what would await him at her death was the tragic loss that only a heart that loved would feel.  Certainly, no love would mean no loss.  But no love would also mean no life.

     I have written before about John Paul II’s statement that “Suffering unleashes love” (here and here).  And when someone is loved, it unleashes life, whether literally or figuratively.  But in our imperfect world, life will also end, which will lead to loss, which will lead to suffering, which can lead to unleashing more love and life if we let it.  Perhaps that’s what the person who penned these words had in mind: “I have found the paradox, that if you love until it hurts, there can be no more hurt, only more love.”

     Could a situation be created where my nephew Carl would not have felt the (temporary) loss of his parents?  Yes—but that would mean ensuring he didn't bond, ensuring he was not loved.  And we know where a story like that leads: the orphans from Ceausescu’s Romania say it all.

     Does separation from those our hearts have loved, whether through death or life circumstances, result in anguish?  Yes, but as Joy wisely observed, “The pain then is part of the happiness now.  That’s the deal.”

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Thankful for Fertility? by Stephanie Gray

     It was shortly after 10pm on a summer night and I was texting with my sister.  As a mother of 5 under 11, her days are long and full.  And in our brief exchange she conveyed that she was so very tired.  Having visited her earlier in the day I saw that her house was a total disaster.  When I walked in she announced, “This is what a house with 5 children looks like.”  It made sense that she’d be exhausted.  At one point in our text exchange I messaged her, “5 things you’re grateful for?  First 5 that come to your mind.”  When she responded I was struck by the final item on her list:

     5. Fertility

     Her answer provoked me to pause because amidst challenge she could see gift, and because we are living in a culture where the default is not my sister’s answer; instead, it is to suppress fertility.  Actually, our culture’s default is more than to suppress fertility, it is to be downright hostile toward it.  I have spoken to so many abortion supporters who hate that fertility is a part of sexuality.  But what could be more incredible than being so intimate with one human soul that in doing so you produce another human soul who had never before existed?  One plus one equaling three in a way that defies math.

     It doesn’t mean fertility is always easy.  I lived with my sister and her family for a season and I saw the toll that pregnancy takes on the body, let alone the challenges of forming and rearing (several!) little human beings.  But I think it’s helpful to step back and think about what the word “toll” means.  It’s a charge for use or access to something (think bridge toll).  We pay the toll because the benefits outweigh the cost.  And we recognize the greater the value of something, the greater the price. 

     The same day I visited my sister, I drove out to see my parents and to help my dad weed his magnificent garden.  In reflecting on my time rummaging through dirt and in-between flowers and bushes, I was reminded again of the gift of fertility—the fertility of the soil, of the flowers that bloom each year—of new life, which brings an array of colors, types, sizes, and smells.  And it’s the beauty and diversity of fertility that makes the garden so awe-inspiring.

     But the oasis of my Dad’s garden did not happen overnight.  It took years of careful cultivation.  It took work.  It took weeding, watering, digging, and pruning.  It still does.  It took, and takes, a toll.  But it’s more than worth it.

     Mother Teresa once declared, “How can there be too many children?  That is like saying there are too many flowers.”

     So should we be thankful for fertility?  It is fertility that resulted in a sweet 1-year-old nephew nuzzling into my shoulder as I lifted his sleepy body out of the van.  It is fertility that resulted in my delightful 4-year-old niece giving me a long hug before saying goodbye.  It is fertility that has given me a 6-year-old nephew whose sensitive spirit teaches me to go gently with people.  It is fertility that has given me an 8-year-old nephew who loves to challenge my competitive spirit with his own over a game of checkers.  It is fertility that has given me an 11-year-old niece who is learning to play the ukulele with me.  It is fertility that has given me a sister I cherish as a best friend.  It is fertility that has given me my parents and their combined 17 siblings.  It is fertility that has given me a brother-in-law, cousins, and friends around the world. 

     When I logged onto Facebook recently I noticed a friend made this post: “I have made a million mistakes in 14 years of parenting... but one thing I know for sure we did right was being open to life and giving our children siblings. That in itself has not been easy, but we are blessed by it every day.”

     Thankful for fertility?  Yes.

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What Do Rape Victims Say About Their Pregnancies? by Stephanie Gray

Image source: Mliu92, https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Pregnant_profile_IV.svg

     “Abortion is needed in cases where women are pregnant from rape.”  Of all the justifications I have heard for abortion, that, by far, is the most common.

    Remembering my recent blog and review of the book “A More Beautiful Question,” I’d like to address this claim with a series of questions.

     What is this support for abortion based on?  Is it based on rape victims who have gotten pregnant and parented their children?  Or is it based on rape victims who have either never gotten pregnant or who have had abortions?  Is it possible to be pregnant from a much-hated sexual assault and yet be grateful for the resulting child?

     Consider the stories of Amanda Berry, Gina DeJesus, and Michelle Knight.  These women were kidnapped (at the ages of 16, 14, and 21, respectively) and subjected to daily rapes and other horrifying torture by Ariel Castro.  They survived more a decade of inhuman abuse in his home in Cleveland, Ohio.  Amanda became pregnant by Castro three years into her captivity.  What was her reaction?

     In the Spring of 2006 Amanda learned from the news that her mother had died from a massive heart attack.  Soon after she discovered she was pregnant and wrote in her autobiography, “I think my mom sent this baby.  It’s her way of giving me an angel.  Someone to help pull me through, give me a reason to fight.”

     Indeed, in the book Hope: A Memoir of Survival in Cleveland that she penned with fellow survivor Gina, they wrote about Amanda's child conceived in rape: “We are inspired every day by Jocelyn Berry, who was born on a Christmas morning in the house on Seymour Avenue.  She made a dark place brighter, and in many ways helped save us.”  

     Amanda also wrote of her daughter Jocelyn, “I used to worry that if I had the baby it would remind me of him [Castro] for the rest of my life.  But I don’t anymore.  This is my baby.  I’m so close now.  I am still pretty small, maybe a hundred and fifteen pounds, less than when I arrived here, but my stomach looks huge to me.  I already feel more like ‘we’ than ‘I.’  Whenever I’m sadder or more depressed than usual, or when he does something especially mean and my hope starts slipping away, I rub my belly and talk to my baby.”

     After giving birth in the torture chamber she wrote, “I crawl into bed with my new baby.  As he fastens the chain around my ankle, I think about my daughter being born into this prison, and who her father is.  But I try to focus on happier thoughts: She seems healthy and she’s beautiful.  I am going to protect her, and the rest we will figure out as we go.”

     The experience of fellow survivor Michelle Knight was very different.  She became pregnant 5 times by Castro and he beat her each time, successfully killing her pre-born children.  In fact, Castro was charged with four counts of aggravated murder for this.

     The jury’s decision on these charges leads to important questions: Is killing wrong based on who does the killing or based on who is killed?  If it was wrong for Castro to kill the children conceived in rape, wouldn’t it be wrong for anyone to kill the children conceived in rape?  Is the human right to life grounded in being human, or grounded in the circumstances under which a human was conceived?

     In her autobiography Finding Me: A Decade of Darkness, a Life Reclaimed, Michelle writes that when he attacked her with a barbell because she was pregnant she screamed, “Stop it!  Please don’t kill my baby!”

     On another occasion, after he kicked her in the stomach to kill another child she had conceived by him, she wrote, “I stood up and stared into the toilet.  I reached down and scooped my baby out of the water.  I stood there and sobbed….Death would have felt better than seeing my own child destroyed.  I looked down at the fetus in my hands. ‘I’m so sorry this happened to you,’ I wailed. ‘I am so sorry.  You deserved better than this!’”

     Or consider the story of Jaycee Dugard.  She was kidnapped in California at eleven years old and held for 18 years by Phillip and Nancy Garrido.  Also subjected to rapes and other unspeakable torture, she gave birth to her first child at 14 and a second at 17.  She writes of her daughters conceived in rape (in the book A Stolen Life: A Memoir): “I had my girls to give me strength,” and “I am thankful for my daughters.”  Of her first pregnancy she said, “The connection I feel for this baby inside of me every time I feel it move is an incredible feeling.”

     Jaycee also wrote, “How do you get through things you don’t want to do?  You just do.  I did it because that was the only thing I could do.  I would do it all again.  The most precious thing in the world came out of it…my daughters.”

     Some might point out that because these women were still held captive while enduring rapes and pregnancies, that new life was a comfort and light in an environment of darkness and suffering, but for rape victims who are no longer enduring victimization, a child is an unnecessary reminder.

     In response, consider my friend Lianna.  She was kidnapped and raped at age 12 and found out she was pregnant after being released from the torture.  When a doctor offered her an abortion, she asked whether it would help her forget the rape and ease her pain and suffering.  She explains her thought process when he replied no: “If abortion wasn’t going to heal anything, I didn’t see the point.”  She carried through with the pregnancy and chose to parent her daughter, who she is so grateful for.  In fact, Lianna was so traumatized by the sexual assault itself that she considered suicide—but didn’t kill herself because she didn’t want to kill her child.  In effect, then, the child conceived in rape became her motivation to continue living, and she credits her daughter for saving her life.

     Certainly there is no denying not everyone will react the same way in the moment.  Consider the Rwandan genocide where mass rapes occurred—one estimate being over 200,000 women raped and approximately 20,000 pregnancies as a result.  One survivor, Jacqueline, was gang-raped and became pregnant with her daughter Angel as a result.  Although she was initially so traumatized by the assault (as well as the murder of her husband and children) that she tried to poison herself and Angel when her daughter was a baby, she eventually entered counselling and “started to love her” and now feels Angel came from God.

     With the right support and help, it is possible to distinguish the innocence of a child from the guilt of a father.  After all, what does the test of time show us when it comes to the presence of children conceived in rape?

     Another question to consider is this: Will abortion un-rape a rape victim?

     The answer to this is obvious.  When I once remarked that whether a victim of rape gets pregnant or not, that the assault itself is a trauma that an abortion won’t take away, a child-molestation victim said in response, “Yeah, 10 years and counting.”

     So the next question to consider, then, is this: What is more difficult to come to terms with: Being an innocent who is hurt, or hurting an innocent?

     My friend Nicole Cooley got pregnant from rape and she had an abortion.  Nicole said, “For me, having an abortion was like being raped again, only worse—because this time I had consented to the assault.”

     Or consider Penny Ann Beernsten: In 1985 she was raped while running along Lake Michigan.  Unfortunately she incorrectly identified an innocent man, Steven Avery, as her attacker.  He was imprisoned for 18 years until the actual rapist, Gregory Allen, was identified using DNA-testing technology. 

     Penny wrote, “The day I learned of the exoneration was worse than the day I was assaulted. I really fought back when my attacker grabbed me. I scratched him, I kicked him. I did not go gently. After the DNA results came back, I just felt powerless. I can’t un-ring this bell. I can’t give Steve back the years that he’s lost.”

     While both these women went through horrifying traumas no human should ever have to endure, they acknowledged a worse pain when they realized their decisions hurt other people.  Of course, there is no denying the impact their traumas had on their judgement, and the failure of those around them, who were emotionally removed from the situations, to better guide them, but the point still stands that it is more difficult to come to terms with hurting an innocent than in being an innocent who is hurt.

     Since the child conceived from rape will ultimately need to come out of the rape victim’s body one way or another—which is better, to remove the child dead or alive?

     In a survey done of 192 women who got pregnant from sexual assault, almost 80% of the women who had abortions reported that abortion had been the wrong solution, and of the women who gave birth to their children, none of them expressed regret and none of them said they wish they had aborted.

     The documentary “Allowed to Live: A Look at the Hard Cases” shares powerful stories of a) people who regret abortions after rape, b) people who are grateful they carried their children to term, and c) people who are thankful their moms protected their lives.

     Which brings to mind my friend Ryan Bomberger.  Ryan’s birth mom was raped and he was conceived.  As it says in his biography, “He was adopted at 6 weeks of age and grew up in a loving, multi-racial Christian family of 15. With siblings of varying ethnicities, he grew up with a great appreciation for diversity. Ten of the thirteen children were adopted in this remarkable family. His life defies the myth of the ‘unwanted’ child as he was adopted, loved and has flourished.”

For the Spanish translation of this article, click here.

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Final Note: Live Action has an excellent, short response to abortion in cases of rape here.  Moreover, years ago I wrote here about a Chilean case involving pregnancy from rape.

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The Second-Last Word, by Stephanie Gray

     I recently had yet another exchange with an abortion supporter who argued abortion is justified from the perspective of a woman’s “bodily rights.”  I have written pro-life responses to this argument before, such as here and here.  It occurred to me that when the bodily rights argument is raised it is often perceived as more challenging, but at the end of the day our simple proposal ought to be this: Let’s focus on a parent's responsibility to her child.  It is easy to lose sight about what we are actually talking about when bodily rights is raised, and that is this: relationship.  And not just any relationship—the relationship of a strong party to a vulnerable party.  And not just any strong party and any vulnerable party.  We are talking about a mom and a child.  I therefore need to call out the bodily rights argument for the horror that it is: a profoundly brutal attack on the nature of the parent-child relationship.

     What element of the Rwandan genocide was more horrifying than other human rights violations?  It was that colleagues, neighbors, friends, and even family were turning over and killing people that they knew.  It was not just a matter of strangers killing strangers (as horrific as even that is).  Consider the story of Monica: She is a Rwandan woman whose own father and brothers brutally executed her Tutsi husband and children in front of her eyes.

     Her father and brothers did more than attack her spouse and offspring.  They attacked their bond with her.  They attacked their relationship.

     Or consider the story of Penny Boudreau who killed her 12-year-old daughter Carissa.  The young victim's last words as she appealed to the woman who birthed her were these: “Mommy, don't.”

     There is something horrifying about her second-last word in the context it was said: “Mommy.”  That little girl made an appeal without realizing it; her use of the term “Mommy” was a call to the nature of who Penny was: a mom.  “Mommy, don't” was more than “Don’t kill me.”  It was a cry from the very depths of her being: “Mommy!  Do what mommies do!”

     Why do we need a mommy?  What are mommies for?  What do mommies constantly assure their children who wake up from nightmares?  “Mommy is here.  Mommy will protect you.  You're safe with me.”  Certainly, it is nice if a stranger helps a scared child, but we sure know that of all people who should help such a sad soul it is this: a mom.

     And so, I would suggest that abortion, and the corresponding bodily rights argument to justify it, is entirely sinister because it is about a mom killing her child.  Not just any child.  Her child.  Not just any woman.  A mother.

     I feel pain writing that.  I feel it for two reasons.  The first is because it is so sad.  The second is because so many moms have unfortunately already made this permanent, deadly choice.  I have several friends who have had abortions, and met countless other women who have done the same.  And sadly, I cannot bring their babies back.

     What I can do is point the wounded in the direction of hope, which, as an anonymous quote I once read said, “is like a bird that senses the dawn and carefully starts to sing, even while it is still dark.”  What I can do is tell about my friends like Anita, Angelina, Debbie, and Elizabeth, who have found forgiveness and healing from their abortions, and who have redeemed their pasts by warning others to learn from their mistakes rather than make new ones.  What I can do is show that even in the most unthinkable of situations, reconciliation is possible, which is what Monica from Rwanda, mentioned above, managed to achieve with her brothers.

     We cannot undo the mistakes we've made in our past, but we can inspire people to act different from us in the present.  We can also inspire people to follow the example of those who have done the right thing.  That’s why I believe it’s worth focusing on another mother, a single mother I met on a college campus several years ago.  Veronika told me,

     “The picture I have enclosed of Amelia and I does not fully show my face but it's an important picture to me. Amelia became very ill with respiratory problems around seven months which meant a lot of nights of dealing with fevers, congestion, pain control and a sad little baby who kept waking up due to having trouble breathing in her sleep. I took this picture one night when I decided to let her sleep on my chest instead of in the crib and she slept throughout the night. I did that every night until she was better. To me, it represents what we do as mothers, that we stop looking at ourselves as individuals with needs and we begin to look at how we can serve another and therefore love another, and with that comes learning to love ourselves.”

     When I mentioned that in being faced with a “bodily rights” argument we ought to make a proposal about a parent’s responsibility to her child, I think there's a better way of saying that:

     Our proposal, ultimately, is love.

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Finding Your Place, by Stephanie Gray

A teenager recently reached out to me, expressing an interest in pursuing a career in the pro-life movement and seeking advice about next steps.  What's below is the guidance I gave her, which I'm posting to help others who are discerning working in the pro-life movement (or discerning other major life decisions):

***Pray***

Take some time to reflect.  Recall Psalm 46:10: "Be still and know that I am God."  As you focus on being still, focus also on being quiet, remembering Elijah: In 1 Kings 19 God wasn’t in the wind, earthquake, or fire.  Rather, He was in a whisper.  Elijah heard God’s command in the silence. 
 
And then, in the stillness and the silence ask God what His marvelous and wonderful plan is for unrepeatable and irreplaceable you!  Journal your reflections and be sure to go back and read these stirrings in your heart to see how and if they continue to resonate as time passes.

Years ago one of my friends shared the following quote with me (by Richard N. Bolles from “What Color is Your Parachute?”) and I think it will be helpful for you as you discern: 

"Your third mission here on Earth is one which is uniquely yours, and that is:

a)    to exercise that talent which you particularly came to Earth to use – your greatest gift which you most delight to use, 
b)    in those place(s) or setting(s) which God has caused to appeal to you the most, 
c)    and for those purposes which God most needs to have done in the world."

What I love about this quote is it's about blending each person's unique skill set, talents, and passion with the world's present-day needs.  Do you have a mind for science and could you be a medical professional, statistician, or researcher?  Do you have a mind for logic and philosophy and would you thrive as an ethicist,  teacher, or public speaker?  Do you have a counselor's heart and would you be well suited to be a psychologist or social worker, walking with the wounded?  These are just a few examples of ways one's abilities and interests can align to help build Christ's kingdom here on earth.

***Act***

Once you've prayed, it's time to act, to take some first steps and see how the Spirit leads.  Apply for a program.  Submit a job application.  Start volunteering.  In short, take action.

After I was convicted by my mentor Scott Klusendorf to consider full-time pro-life work as a career (thanks, in part, to his striking statement that "There are more people working full-time to kill babies than there are working full-time to save them"), Scott trained me on how to fundraise for pro-life work.  After that formation when myself and a team of young Canadians were ready to implement what we were taught, my Dad gave me this fitting quote by Goethe:

“Until one is committed, there is hesitancy, the chance to draw back, always ineffectiveness, concerning all acts of initiative (and creation).  There is one elementary truth the ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans: that the moment one definitely commits oneself, then Providence moves too.  All sorts of things occur to help one that would never otherwise have occurred.  A whole stream of events issues from decision, raising in one’s favor all manner of unforeseen incidents and meetings and material assistance which no man could have dreamed would have come his way.  Whatever you can do or dream you can, begin it.  Boldness has genius, power and magic in it.  Begin it now.”

Start taking some steps and see what happens.  Think about driving a car at night: the headlights and road lights provide sufficient illumination for the driver to know how to steer the wheel in the moment, but not sufficient light to let you know what's far ahead--you have to keep driving to find that out.  So start driving and see where the lights lead, and whether you need a change in direction, which brings me to my next point.

***Seek Counsel***

Ask yourself, "What unsolicited feedback am I getting as I move forward?  Are various people approaching me and confirming the path I'm on?  Am I receiving messages of encouragement that seem to validate the suitability of this path for me?"

What about solicited feedback?  Ask those closest to you, who know you best, about the direction you're on.  Confide in a spiritual director/accountability person/mentor and seek their outside, objective opinion.

And what is your own gut saying?

As you pray, act, and seek counsel, consider whether doors are opening or closing, whether you're forcing things or whether they seem to unfold like a flower.

If you seek the will of God, stay in the present moment, and do the next right thing, you will do well.  May you thrive, and help others around you do the same!

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What Question Have You Asked Lately? by Stephanie Gray

     Recently a friend gifted me a new book, and as I’ve poured over its pages I’ve found myself experiencing the fruits of a book well-written:

• I feel inspired and energized.
• I share details of what I’ve read with others.
• I act on what I read by contemplating its content, applying it to my life, and looking further into details it references.

     The book?  It’s written by Warren Berger and is called, “A More Beautiful Question: The Power of Inquiry to Spark Breakthrough Ideas.”

     One of its questions, which struck me as I read more yesterday, is particularly helpful when a person is at a crossroads, deciding one thing over another: “When I look back in five years, which of these options will make the better story?”

     How great is that?

     As I sat contemplating the various ideas swirling in my mind, one thought led to another, which led to another, and prompted me to text this to my sister: 

     “Reading a great book on the power of questions.  My wandering mind led me to the revelation that Monica [my sister’s eldest] will be going to university in 8 years.  Francis [my sister’s second oldest] is 8 years old and look how quickly that has passed.  Only 8 more years with Monica under your care.  What do you want those 8 years to look like?  No need to answer me.  I’m just sharing the concept of the book.”

     Or consider this question documentary filmmaker Roko Belic once asked,

     “Why is it that people who have so little and have suffered so much seem to be happier than other people who are more fortunate?”

     He sought the answer to that question and shared it with others in his inspiring documentary, “Happy.”  I never heard of the film until it was mentioned on page 191 of Berger’s book.  But I was so intrigued by the reference that I went home and asked my roommate a question: “Want to watch the documentary ‘Happy’ tonight?”  She said yes and we both were hugely inspired. 

     “Happy” was the second movie we watched as a result of this book.  The first film we watched a couple weeks prior.  It was a small reference on page 35.  The question this time was, “What if a car windshield could blink?”  Berger answered that question by telling about Bob Kearns, the inventor of intermittent windshield wipers.  His story was featured in a 2008 film called “Flash of Genius,” about how the Big Three car companies infringed on Kearns’ patent.  Watching that film caused my roommate and me to ask, “Did the real story really happen that way?  What happened to his family?  Does there come a point where prudence should compel us to stop fighting injustice?”  These questions, provoked as a result of the film (and the subsequent Google search we did at the end to learn more), led to a very thoughtful conversation about life.

     Berger’s book is great because not only does it ask the reader questions, it inspires the reader to ask their own questions.  These questions will lead us on a journey to answers that will enrich our life—if we are willing to step into the adventure of the unknown.  So what question will you ask yourself today?

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Book Recommendations, by Stephanie Gray

I love books.  And I have my Dad in particular to thank for instilling in me an appreciation for literature (and for helping grow my library of hundreds of books).  Since I’m sometimes asked for book recommendations, I decided to share a list of 10 in particular that stand out to me (although many, many more do):

     Created for Greatness: The Power of Magnanimity, by Alexandre Havard.  I heard about this book from a speaker, Mike Phelan, who presented before me at an event in Phoenix.  His endorsement of it was glowing, so I ordered it upon returning home.  Once I started it, I could hardly put it down.  It so energized and inspired me that I organized a book study of it which I held at my home one month later for several friends who became similarly inspired.

     Essentialism: The Disciplined Pursuit of Less, by Greg McKeown.  I am forever indebted to my friend Mark Harrington who sent me this book.  While it sat on my bookshelf for a year before I read it, it became the reason for me implementing multiple changes to my life.  I have since gifted it at least 8 times and have recommended it to many others.  I am on my third re-read of it.

     Getting Life: An Innocent Man’s 25 Year Journey from Prison to Peace, by Michael Morton.  This book left me speechless.  It’s the true story of a man unjustly imprisoned for murdering his wife—a crime he did not commit.  After more than two decades behind bars, his faith and forgiveness blew me away.

      The Holy Bible.  It’s our Creator’s word, so we should read it.  The Psalms in particular have put words to the prayers of my heart on many occasions.  And if you’re ever in a hotel room and wanting a Bible to read, just open the drawers as the Gideons have kindly provided copies in hotels around North America (and possibly the world?).

     Left to Tell: Discovering God Amidst the Rwandan Holocaust, by Immaculee Ilibagiza.  This woman’s account of the trauma of the Rwandan genocide, how she was hunted down, and how she survived is nothing short of incredible.

     Man’s Search for Meaning, by Viktor Frankl.  I read this book in 2006 in preparation for my trip to Poland where I visited Auschwitz.  For the past 11 years I have continually referenced the profound insights in this book for audiences around the world. 

     The Rhythm of Life: Living Every Day with Passion and Purpose, by Matthew Kelly.  This book was the impetus for me going to Romania to care for children, as well as the inspiration for me to create my famous “quote basket” that guests to my home are very familiar with (when you leave you place your hand in a basket of inspirational quotes I've collected and randomly pull one out to take with you).

     Searching for and Maintaining Peace, by Jacques Philippe.  Short and succinct, yet profoundly deep and powerful.  It’s the type of book you can read as a meditation.

     The Secret Daughter, by Shilpi Gowda.  This novel was a vacation read several years ago.  It’s about a girl adopted from India and raised in America, and it interweaves the story of her, her biological family, and her adopted family.  It moved me to tears.

    Tuesdays With Morrie, by Mitch Albom.  This book came to me in a surprising way.  I had had an extensive debate with a hostile pro-abortion student on a university campus.  He eventually calmed down and became more pensive.  This encounter ultimately led to meeting him for coffee later that week to further discuss the subject, and we pledged to recommend a book to each other.  His recommendation to me was this book, and upon devouring it I was surprised—because if you ask me, it’s profoundly pro-life in how the main character, Morrie, lives with ALS.

Pregnancy and Slavery, by Stephanie Gray

After my presentation on abortion for the series "Talks at Google," I received an e-mail from someone who identified as pro-choice.  He wanted to outline his position on abortion and hear my thoughts.  What follows is my reply to him, as it provides a teaching tool for how to explain the pro-life position to someone who argues that when a woman does not wish to be pregnant, to force her to continue is like slavery.

     I am encouraged that you acknowledge that "a fetus is a human being with equal right to any other, and that killing it is immoral."  Given that, if you consider maintaining pregnancy/giving birth to be a type of slavery (if the pregnancy/birth are against the woman's will), then couldn't the same could be said about caring for a born child if doing so is against a woman's will?  In other words, if no one was able to care for a woman's infant for 6 weeks, would that give her grounds to refuse to feed the infant, to directly kill the infant, on the basis that she does not give permission to be "enslaved" to the infant?  Bear in mind that a born child is 100% dependent on another human to use their body (mind, arms, chest) to feed, burp, change, and shelter him or her.  Without total care from another human's body, the infant will die.

     Remember, I'm working with your admission that a fetus is just as human as an infant, and your admission that killing is immoral.  If dependency of one human on another is considered slavery, and it justifies deadly force to cease said relationship, then logically you would need to carry that over to born children.  Is that a position you're willing to take?

     Assuming you aren't willing to take that position, then I think what is reasonable to deduce is this:

     Whereas slavery involves one person treating another person as property, pre-born (and born) children are not doing this. In fact, the opposite of your position could be said: That embracing abortion is analogous to embracing slavery.  Whereas the latter (slavery) says of another human, "That's my property" (which isn't true), the former (abortion) says of another human, "That's my body" (which isn't true).

     Furthermore, slave owners are the strong party who dominate vulnerable people.  How can pre-born children be analogous to that when it's their parents who are the strong party and the pre-born who are the vulnerable one?

     You claim that "women...can consent to having sex without consenting to pregnancy."  Really?  Consider this:

     Is it reasonable to say a person can consent to playing baseball without consenting to the ball going through, and breaking, a neighbor's window?  Would it be reasonable to say to the neighbor, "I consented to playing the game but not to it causing property damage so I won't fix your window"?  Or, is it reasonable for a man to say he consented to having sex without consenting to paying child support?  Would it be reasonable to say to a judge, "I consented to having sex but not to creating the child my partner birthed so I won't provide ongoing financial support to the child"?

     In either example, the consequence of a window being broken or of a child needing support are just that--consequences, results, which flow from an action.  A person cannot "consent" to such consequences; they must merely accept them.  By engaging in actions (playing baseball, having sex) that have consequences tied to them, a person must accept what comes.  If that's true for the broken window or child support scenarios, it's also true for a pregnancy scenario.

      Moreover, with pregnancy and parenthood we are not speaking of a stranger-to-stranger relationship, but rather of a parent-to-child relationship.  Consider, for example, if someone is starving in your city: Will you be charged with neglect for not feeding them?  No.  While it would be nice of you to feed the poor, you do not have a legal duty to do so.  What if your child is starving in your home: Will you be charged with neglect for not feeding her?  Yes.  Why?  Parents have a responsibility to meet the basic needs of their children.  Requiring parents of born children to meet their childrens' basic needs of food, clothing, and shelter, is the same as requiring a mother to meet her pre-born child's basic needs of food and shelter.

     You said, "I see pregnancy as an immoral imposition on the woman against her will imposed by biology/nature/god, like slavery."  Even if that's how you see it, the child is not the one responsible for this imposition.  Moreover, as pointed out previously, the "imposition" doesn't end at birth.  So if the imposition of "nature" is grounds to kill the innocent pre-born child, it's also grounds to kill the innocent born child, and that's a position civil societies just don't take. 

     Consider this statement from the UN's Declaration on the Rights of the Child: "the child, by reason of his physical and mental immaturity, needs special safeguards and care, including appropriate legal protection, before as well as after birth."

      You said, "A common criticism of [the claim about a woman's right to choose is] if people have the right to do whatever they want with their bodies they have the right to wave a sword around wherever they want, so why is it immoral to cut people who happen to get in the way? You can’t do whatever you want in public space which is owned by everyone, however inside of your body isn’t public space. If someone invaded your home/body (knowingly or not) against your will, then you are fully in your rights to swing your sword even if it hits them, or at the very least evict them out post haste so you can go back to swinging your sword in peace."

      Actually, if you found a baby in your home you wouldn't be able to justify swinging your sword or leaving the child in the cold.  Yet here's how pregnancy is different even from that: The pre-born child has not invaded the mom's body. She is there by "invitation" of her parents.  Moreover, she is in the only place she should be in.  That point cannot be minimized: Where else should the pre-born be except for the mom's body?  The child in the womb is a sign something has gone right, rather than wrong.

      Moreover, who does the uterus primarily exist for?  A woman can live without her uterus; her offspring cannot.  In fact, every single month the uterus is getting ready for someone else's body.  While it exists in the mom's body it is a unique organ in that it exists more for one's offspring than for oneself; hence, the argument can be made that the pre-born child has a right to be there.

      You said, "If you were a slave and your owner tasked you with taking care of a child for nine months after which you would be free. Also considering the fact that if you refused the child would die, are you obligated to being a slave and taking care of the child or are you justified in escaping slavery even at the cost of the child’s life?"

     I would point out that because the baby is not an independent adult who can try to fend for herself, that I think the woman should care for the slave baby too.  Having said that, the scenario you've described is not like pregnancy.  Pregnancy is a parent-child relationship.  So let me make the right course of action clearer with a thought experiment that is more parallel to pregnancy [working with a concept from my friends over at Justice for All]:

     Imagine a woman gives birth but doesn't want to use her body to breastfeed her baby.  She has formula and bottles all ready to provide nourishment for the child that way.  But suddenly, she and her newborn are kidnapped and locked in a cabin in the woods. There is solid food for her to eat but no bottles or formula for the baby.  Would she be obligated to breastfeed her child or could she justify letting the baby starve because she didn't want to use her body to help her child?

     Clearly she still has a duty to meet the needs of her born child even when circumstances beyond her control prevent her from following her original plan.  The same is true for the pre-born who you acknowledged to be human and with equal rights.

A Birthday and Suicide, by Stephanie Gray

     Facebook reminded me that today is the birthday of a friend from my UBC days.  But there will be no party because he committed suicide several years ago.

     He didn’t choose to kill himself, though.  The demons in his mind drove him to such despair.  I remember when his mental illness first came out.  We were in second year university.  We lived in the same dorm—he on the fourth floor and me on the third.  Before the sudden change, we had been “partners in crime,” working together in the lab for the one science course I was forced to take thanks to the requirement that Arts majors have a science class.  I chose biology and found myself growing mosquitoes.  There was way too much larvae for my liking and I don’t think I would have survived that course if it wasn’t for his camaraderie.

     He was part of the group of my friends who would walk to Vancouver’s best beach of Spanish Banks and watch the most stunning sunsets while singing songs in harmony.  I remember he had an amazing voice.  As the sky went from blue to purples, pinks, yellows, and oranges, we would raise our voices with “How Great Thou Art” and other such hymns.

     Then one day he wasn’t around.  One day turned into several.  And then our circle of friends got word: he was in the hospital—on a mental health ward.  I remember the day I went to visit: it was gorgeously sunny and he sat by a window with earbuds in.  He had a peaceful smile on his face but he was not the same person.  When he saw me, he pulled them out and told me to place them in my ears.  “You have to listen to this song,” he said.

     And so I was introduced to Robin Mark’s Revival in Belfast song, “Jesus, All for Jesus.”  I fell in love with that song then and have listened to it many times in the two decades since.  It has been a source of inspiration for me in prayer as well as in preparation for giving presentations.  When I hear that song, I think of him. 

     When I think of him, I think of his love for Jesus; I think of his defence of pre-born children who he was a strong voice for on our campus; I think of his joy; I think of skipping along the street, speaking in fake accents, singing, and laughing.  Yes, he got sick with an illness that tormented him and led to a tragically short life.  But he also forever touched my life, and others', in a positive way.

     On this, what should have been your 37th birthday, my dear UBC buddy, may you be resting in peace, raising your voice in song with a chorus of angels.

Assisted Suicide in Select Cases? by Stephanie Gray

If suicide is wrong, why is assisting it right?

     Last week I gave a presentation to teenagers on the topic of assisted suicide and euthanasia.  Afterwards, a student had a question for me: She said she was against euthanasia in the vast majority of cases, but said that, for a minority of cases, if someone is at the end of his life and his last dying wish is to have assistance with suicide rather than continue “waiting” for life to naturally end, shouldn’t we give it to him?

     That question can be answered by asking a series of questions:

     *If we refuse to assist with some deaths, but not others, we are making a value judgment about peoples’ lives—whether we realize it or not.  In other words, we are making the call that some lives are worth preserving and some aren’t.  Who are we to decide that?

     *Moreover, who’s to determine which people would be close enough to death to get assistance with suicide?  Would natural death need to be hours, days, weeks, or months away?

     *Even if we could get consensus on how close to death a patient ought to be to qualify, what if the estimated time is wrong?  My friend’s father was told he had days left to live.  Three years later, he is alive and living back at home.

     *But, for the sake of argument, if we could get accuracy on proximity to natural death, and if the only assisted suicide cases allowed had to be within weeks of natural death, then what harm, in the grand scheme of things, is a few more weeks on earth—especially when compared to the harms of introducing killing as a solution to problems?

     *If the concern is that the person, in his final weeks, would suffer, then shouldn’t we provide palliative care which alleviates suffering instead of eliminates the sufferer?

     *If we argue that we ought to act on someone’s wishes just because he wishes it, we need to be reminded that we humans can have disordered desires.  A case in point is regarding those struggling with Body Integrity Identity Disorder (BIID).  Consider the story of Jewel Shuping, who had her psychologist put drain cleaner in her eyes because she wanted to be blind.  Intentionally maiming a healthy part of one’s body may be the desire for someone with BIID, but isn’t this proof that not all humans’ desires should be acted upon?

     *If we say it’s okay to assist with some suicides, then what if another person, because of this, asks for assistance with suicide out of guilt, out of thinking he’s a burden and that he should do what others before him have done?  He may even claim to want assisted suicide, but deep down he is asking for it out of duty, thinking he ought to because others have done so already.  Since death is permanent, shouldn’t we err on the side of caution?  In other words, if we had to choose between a society that either a) deprives someone of death when he wants it, or b) gives someone death before he actually wants it, which should we pick?  The person being “deprived” of assisted suicide will still get death—just not at his own, personally-calculated time.  But the person being deprived of life will never get that living time back.

     *If we don’t think health care professionals should be involved in terminating guilty criminals’ lives, why do we think they should be involved in terminating innocent patients’ lives?  In 2016, the New York Times reported that the pharmaceutical company Pfizer “had imposed sweeping controls on the distribution of its products to ensure that none are used in lethal injections.”  More than twenty other drug companies had done the same.  And the American Medical Association has also raised concerns, stating, “The AMA's policy is clear and unambiguous — requiring physicians to participate in executions violates their oath to protect lives and erodes public confidence in the medical profession.”  Couldn’t the same be said about health care workers’ involvement in assisted suicide?

     Finally, it is worth considering this insight from palliative care physician Dr. Margaret Cottle:

     In places where euthanasia and physician-assisted suicide are legal, there has been a rapid expansion and total absence of enforcement of the so-called ‘safeguards.’ Patients with mental illnesses, early stage eye disease and even ringing in the ears have been euthanized. Children and patients with dementia, neither of whom can provide meaningful ‘consent,’ have also been targets. In one study published in the Canadian Medical Association Journal in 2010, the physicians who reported that they caused the death of patients admitted anonymously that one in every three of those patients never gave explicit consent.

      A study published in the New England Journal of Medicine in March 2015 reviewed the most recent data in Belgium around hastened death. It showed that 4.6 percent of all deaths in Belgium were euthanasia deaths, while 1.7 percent of all deaths were euthanasia deaths without the explicit consent of the patient.

     While these percentages seem rather small, serious concerns emerge when compared to the mortality statistics in the U.S. There were 2,596,993 deaths in the U.S. in 2013, and 4.6 percent of that is almost 120,000 deaths. This would qualify physician-assisted suicide and euthanasia as the sixth leading cause of death in the U.S., almost as many as the fifth leading cause of death, strokes, with about 129,000 deaths...

      Patients do not need hastened death; they need excellent care and a deep understanding of their difficult situations. They need all of us to be present with them in profound solidarity. They need the palliative care resources that the majority of patients and families do not have. It is a major human rights violation to be suggesting death as an “answer” to our society’s lack of commitment to care for our vulnerable citizens!

     Every physician knows it is frighteningly easy for patients to die – keeping them alive is the hard work, and caring for them respectfully and compassionately in the process is even tougher. It takes courage and hope to treat patients, especially when the outcome is far from certain.

     Agreeing with patients that their lives are not worth living and helping them die destroys the trust between patients and physicians, while also revealing a distinct lack of ingenuity in our treatments.

     Real compassion is shown by finding ways to be innovative in our approach instead of just following a set of guidelines, thereby reaching people in despair, both at the end of life and in other circumstances, and making it clear they matter to us, their lives are important and we will be with them in their troubles.

Image Source: Public Domain