All I remember of the beginning is that I was standing in a kitchen in a well-appointed home. It was daytime and there was a well-dressed woman sitting at a table across the room having coffee. I was standing next to a microwave on a countertop and there was a clear glass jar next to it. In the jar was a baby in an amniotic bubble and it was alive.
The baby had bluish, transparent skin and I could see tiny internal organs and a beating heart. At the baby’s midsection, I saw two ovaries. She was a girl. I looked up at her expressionless face and she opened her eyes, they were like milk chocolate; a beautiful little brown-eyed girl. She blinked and looked at me, and I started crying.
I was crying because I had helped to put her where she was. She was still alive, but wouldn’t be for long.
Turning to the stylish woman at the table, I intoned through my tears, “Why did you do this!?”
“You know why,” she answered incredulously, “I’m having company over today and I can’t be pregnant for company!”
I knew I had to get this baby back to where she belonged, and fast. But this didn’t make sense; I’m a handyman, not a doctor.
The woman seemed annoyed, “I told you I needed to have some things done around my house to make it presentable. You agreed to help me do that. This was just part of your job. What’s your problem?”
My knees buckled; I sank to the floor. Lying on my right side, I curled up and sobbed. My heart weighed a thousand pounds and my head threatened to burst.
“I didn’t agree to help you kill your…” It came out like a shout and a moan. I had to stop and hold my breath. My stomach was full of stones. I felt like vomiting.
And that was the end.
My dreams are like that usually. They start in the middle and are over before they finish.
I haven’t been able to put it out of my head today. I still have a remnant of that sickening feeling that I’m an unwitting accessory to the murder of an innocent. The baby in the jar was going to die and I couldn’t do anything about it.
Yesterday I read an article about seven former Planned Parenthood employees who are willing to testify before congress that the national abortion factory that is the Planned Parenthood Federation of America (PPFA) regularly uses taxpayer monies to fund abortion on-demand.
PPFA receives more than one million dollars a day from federal and state sources which, by law, may NEVER be used for elective abortions. Malfeasance by Planned Parenthood is a well-known secret that shouldn’t surprise anybody; the lack of congressional oversight is criminal and, again, shouldn’t surprise anybody.
In the time it took you to read this article another brown-eyed girl has been killed by an employee of Planned Parenthood. If you are a taxpayer, you helped kill her.
But this is just part of your job, citizen. “What’s your problem?”
Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, and before you were born I consecrated you; Jeremiah 1:5a
