Christians and Birth Control, by Stephanie Gray

     When I present about abortion, I’m sometimes asked about birth control. There are those who think that if one is against abortion one should surely be in favor of birth control; after all, wouldn’t increasing the latter decrease the former? Actually it does not, as I address here. I think a more fundamental question, though, is not “Will birth control decrease or increase abortion?” but rather, “Is birth control morally acceptable?”

     That came up at a recent presentation I gave at a Christian church in my home city of Vancouver, Canada. This topic is often framed as a Catholic-Protestant debate, with the Catholic church teaching contraception is morally wrong and many Protestant churches accepting some forms of contraception. This difference, however, is a new phenomenon. And by “new” I mean the last 90 years. The history of churches of various denominations claiming to follow Christ for the previous 2,000 years has been one where contraception has been rejected—until the Anglicans first embraced it in 1930. I therefore believe a solid, Biblical case can be made for objecting to birth control—appealing to all people who claim to follow Christ, regardless of denominational differences. A series I wrote, accessible in this PDF, will endeavor to do just that.

Header image source: Wikimedia Commons, BruceBlaus

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When Someone is in Darkness, Your Light is Blinding, by Stephanie Gray

     In my 16 years of full-time pro-life work I have met some of the most incredible people around the world.  For all the criticism abortion supporters have about the pro-life movement, portraying pro-lifers as having no concern for the less fortunate, as not caring about children after birth, as being mean-spirited, etc., I have encountered a movement of people that is the exact opposite.  I have met pro-lifers who have adopted children domestically and internationally. I have met pro-lifers who have adopted not one but several children, including sibling sets all at once. I have met pro-lifers who fostered children who otherwise had no place to go.  I have met pro-lifers who have welcomed pregnant women into their homes.  I have met pro-lifers who have adopted and/or birthed children with special needs and embraced these lives as pure gift.

     This striking contrast reminds me of a podcast interview I recently listened to where Patrick Coffin and Jordan Peterson discussed Peterson's viral interview with Channel 4 journalist Cathy Newman.  Peterson described Newman's approach to him as "grilling [an] imaginary opponent."  He said, "She was interviewing a figment of her imagination and not noticing, even for a moment, that it bore no resemblance to me.”

     I have seen that same phenomena in how some abortion supporters represent pro-lifers--seeing the pro-lifer not as he or she actually is, but as a figment of the abortion supporter's imagination.  Why is that?  Perhaps it's because when you're wrong about something and don't want to admit it, that by demonizing those who hold the opposite perspective, you can feel justified in maintaining your false views.  Perhaps it’s also because when someone is in darkness they close their eyes at light, and that prevents them from seeing things as they are.

     That is what came to mind a couple weeks ago when I presented in Oregon.  An audience member mentioned that she had two children with special needs.  She expressed that complete strangers have walked up to her and said they would have aborted children like hers.  She has been hurt and taken aback by such rude remarks and wondered how to handle them.  This was my response:

     "What comes to mind as I'm hearing you speak is that when someone is in darkness, your light is blinding.  When someone is in darkness your light—and you have light—is blinding.  If this room was pitch-black dark and I flicked on movie-studio, high-beam lights, what would you do?  You'd say 'Ouch, that hurts, shut it off' or you'd close your eyes.  But eventually what happens when we wake up in the morning and we kind-of experience that with our bathroom light?  Our eyes adjust, right?  So there will be that initial reaction of rejection, but ultimate adjustment.  And I would say when someone says, 'I would have aborted that child' it's very possible what they're non-verbally saying to you is, 'I did abort that child and how dare you remind me of what I did.'  Because your light hurts in their darkness. 

     "And so what I recommend is that we never take this hostility personally, that we pray for these people and we sit in their pain by allowing them to tell us their stories without any agenda to try to convince them of anything… [So when] you're ever in a situation where someone says, 'I would abort' …ask open-ended questions like, 'Why is that?' or 'What would scare you most?' or 'Do you know anyone who's aborted in this type of situation and what has that experience been?' And just let the story be told.  And what they will remember is your light and how you reacted to their darkness, with gentleness and with compassion—and that will draw them out to where you are."

To watch that particular answer click on the video below and go to 59:07:

Image source at top of blog: Wikimedia Commons, Feliciano Guimarães, Guimarães, Portugal, Light at the end of tunnel

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When Does Parenthood Begin? by Stephanie Gray

     In a recent debate I participated in against the former president of the American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU), Nadine Strossen, we were asked to respond to the question “Should abortion be legal?” As is my usual practice, I believe the best way to teach people is to answer one question by asking more questions.  Typically I would ask my audience to first consider questions like, “When does life begin?” and “How ought we treat humans whose lives have begun?”  But instead I framed my message this way:

Q: What do civil societies expect of parents? and

Q: When does parenthood begin?

     If you google the terms “Parents abuse, kill, starve, children” you will come up with news stories like these:

·         From California: “Parents arrested after cops find 12 siblings shackled to beds”

·         From Denver: “Abused children's cries for help were ignored”

·         From Iowa: “Baby found rotting in swing; parents charged with murder”

     As I told my audience, I know there is consensus in the room that these are horrifying headlines.  We all agree on that because we all agree that in civil societies parents do not harm their children; instead, they help their children, they meet their children’s material and emotional needs.

     Moreover, I suggested, we all know that the more vulnerable a child is, the greater a parent’s responsibility is.  I asked the students to imagine they go home for the holidays and ask their parents to feed them three meals/day.  If the parents refuse we might be sad for the college student, but we would not pursue criminal charges against the parents.  But what if, I asked the students to consider, the child requesting food isn’t a college student?  What if the child is four years old?  What if the 4-year-old asks her parents to feed her and the parents continually refuse—at that point do we think the parents should be charged with neglect?  Absolutely.  So what is the difference between a child who is a college student and a child who is four?  The latter is a dependent, and by virtue of the neediness, weakness, and vulnerability of such an individual, we expect more of the parents—not less.

     Again, I said, I do not believe this is a point over which we have a dispute.

     Therefore, if we can agree on a civil society’s expectations of parents, then I think we can agree that the response to the debate question, “Should abortion be legal?” ought to be one simple answer: “No.”  In order to elaborate on that, I asked and answered the question, “When does parenthood begin?”

     A basic understanding of reproduction tells us that the next generation of a species which reproduces sexually will begin at sperm-egg fusion.  When a man’s body produces sperm or a woman’s body produces eggs, we know these are mere parts of the body from which they came.  But when those parts are combined, what is produced is something entirely different from that which is a part of a female or a part of a male.  In fact, what is produced is a female or a male.  What is produced is not something but someone.  What is produced is a whole new individual who can be genetically traced as the offspring of the parents—a part of their lineage, but not a part of their person.  What is produced is a separate person.

     Since parenthood begins at fertilization that means the responsibilities of parents begin then too.  From the moment a child exists, parents have a responsibility to ensure the safety and care of that child.  And if one day they wish to relinquish those responsibilities, the only moral way to do so is to ensure another party takes care of the child.  In the absence of a proper “transfer of care” (e.g., adoption) the parents would be neglectful in their duty to help, not harm, their children.

     So should abortion be legal?  The answer to that question is obvious once we ask, “What do civil societies expect of parents, and when does parenthood begin?”

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.