"All Babies are Wanted" is the Worst Pro-Life Argument

Last fall, in the wake of several scandalous videos of Planned Parenthood being released, our internet empire burned with every emotion. In the pro-life community blood boiled and fingers swiftly spattered words…

There was never a better time for us to rise together and fight as one.

Hashtags brought us all together. How could he say “another boy”??

We were awakened.

We were horrified.

All the former pro-life saying tripled in quantity and enthusiasm: “Every baby is wanted”. “I just wish I could take all those unwanted babies home with me”, said one Facebook user.



I questioned the sincerity of all these words. Have you ever looked at the foster system statistics? The children of single mom statistics?

All those babies you want to take home? They are already here.

~

You see, I grew up cutting and pasting pro-life updates into my journal. It was my dream to work a pregnancy medical center; it was my dream to help pregnant teens. Things happened, and I left my dream to pursue other things.

A 20-year-old, backslidden Christian, college drop-out versus a positive pregnancy test. How painfully fell this fresh stroke of shame. What better way to awake then to live out my dream, not as a supporter but as the leading role—an unwilling pregnant participant in the game. The words “I’m pregnant” stuck in my throat until a friend made me say them out loud. “Kallie has something to tell you”, she said.

I told.

~

And I told the pregnancy medical center workers, “I understand why women get abortions…now.” I prayed for a miscarriage…

I lived in a maternity home with prostitutes, foster kids, orphans, homeless women, married women, teenagers, sexual abuse victims, drug addicts, and recovering drug addicts. After I graduated from the house, I peer-counseled women receiving pregnancy tests and was a relief house-parent at the same maternity house.

I saw a lot of babies who were born into a very ugly cycle. I saw their moms come in for help and choose life. There were not a lot of places they could go with their newborn babies, although there were a few homes set up to take in women exiting the program. A handful of churches who made it obvious that broken people were wanted inside. Sadly many of the women I knew went right back to the place they came from. At least they weren’t strangers there…

~

Within the walls of the church, if we don’t even want those children and adults who are alive, how can we claim that the unborn are wanted? Do we stay in safe, Christian communities, enjoying like-minded friends, going to church on Sunday, not swearing, smoking, or getting tattoos, and donating to our favorite charity.  And yet, “religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world" (James 1:27, NIV).

From what I can understand, “pure” is means getting our hands messy as we love others in the way they need. As my Pastor Aaron says, true Christianity means making room in your church, your heart, and your community for “those people”, the specific ones who are difficult for us to love.

I pray that churches can change from being pro-life to pro-love. Pro-woman, pro-man, pro-baby, pro-child, pro-teenager.  Bringing them all in with a huge mess trailing behind them, and not being afraid of that mess. Being effectively trained to help them in a way that will help them break the cycle of abuse or addiction or whatever ugly thing it is. 

I believe Jesus calls us to hang out with “those people”.  

~
I have an unusual story. I was one of those people. I believe that I was past the point of grace, and so I lived accordingly. I had no self-worth. In these exact words I asked God, if He was still around, to please get me out. But there are some people who really get how to love. And I got that love. That is why my story is unusual. And this is how it went:



Someone told me how guilty I was for my sin. But I knew that better than anyone.



Someone told me “Do whatever you want with our pregnancy, and I’ll support it.” Someone couldn’t keep his promises.



Someone told me, “If you’re just going to put it in daycare for the rest of its life, why don’t you give it up for adoption.”


But….


Someone comforted me when I found out the positive results.


Someone showed me an ultrasound picture of a beating heart, for free. For a moment, I felt warm. I attached.


Someone typed in the words “so tiny, so cute” on the ultrasound picture when I had the courage to say that out loud.


Someone asked me if I wanted a thorough education on single parenthood, marriage, abortion, and adoption.


Someone told me that not only was my baby wanted, but I was wanted, regardless of my past decisions. Someone told me that regardless of my future decisions, I would be welcomed back.


Someone told me told me that God loved me for more than my performance. I didn’t know that!  


Some people had made a place for me in their own home to recover and flourish, until three months after my baby was born.


Some people had made another home for me where I was invited in as a member of the family.



Some church members told me there was a place for me here, sitting right next to them. Some church members drove me to church, drove me to parenting classes, and held my baby every Sunday for months.


Some people still loved me even while I quoted the Bible out of one side of my mouth and lied three hundred times with the other side.


Some people drove me to job interviews, the welfare office, the courthouse, the doctor.


Some people touched my belly like it was a gift, not a product of premarital intercourse.


Some fathers and pastors felt uncomfortable and scared at first, but then they treated my daughter like their own.


Some people bought me diapers, clothing, and baby supplies.


Some people gave me a break from holding a child that demanded everything I had to give and more. Some people did it for free.



Some people just came over and sat there with me on my worst days.


Some people dedicated their life to reminding me how full of worth I still was.

It was then that I was able to put one foot in front of the other, and begin to live.

Someone. Some people.


Please, choose who you are going to be.



Words are not enough.


God and us, we are enough.

Entering the Terrible Threes with Grace

^^This picture...this is how I feel today. 

I was going to try to "encourage" other mamas and single mamas, but I have to say: I’m writing this post for myself and myself alone, and maybe someone else can take something from it. At the very least I hope you feel less alone, because you aren’t.

June 30th, 2015 

Dear Kal,

So here you are, sitting on your marvelous floral coach in your three week-new apartment, alone (give or take an ant, or two or three). Your bare toes are touching a crunchy part of the carpet where your toddler poured her healthy smoothie (she hated it) and it didn’t completely get cleaned up. Your hair is crying for some TLC and the bags under your eyes have grown exponentially in the last three years. The house is littered with the same things you picked up an hour ago, the food stamp renewal paperwork was turned in two months late today (the lady felt so sorry for you that she took it anyways and tried to give you hope that they might still accept it), you forgot all your bills are due tomorrow, you forgot your Amazon textbook rental was due, you’re already worried about starting Statistics class in two months, you could do a way better job at work if you stayed late and started early, and you would love and adore a week completely alone on a mountain somewhere (but you hate knowing the fact that one hour into it you would miss your toddler like crazy).

Today (and every day) you spent 3 hours trying to be the best mom ever, 7 hours trying to do the best job ever at work, and then you spent the 4 hours after work trying to be the best mom ever, again.

You felt angry, exhausted, joyful, blessed, and so resentful of the time spent on her and not on all the things you wanted to do. But you pressed pause and got down on the floor and played as hard as you could! You totally said out loud, “I did not sign up for this” and felt completely unnerved when you collapsed on the floor in a pile of exhaustion and your toddler cupped your face in her tiny hands and talked to you sternly like she was an actual adult ("Get up off da fo and do downtairs and make me YOGUT".  

The truth is, you didn’t sign up for this. Many people never do sign up for it, even when their pregnancies are planned. Almost anyone can go through the motions of having a baby-- keeping her alive, healthy, fed, and loved, but it is truly takes something bigger than yourself (hint: God) to accept the fact that you have been GIFTED with a human being. It’s really hard to be responsible for her, I know. The tears might be starting to squeeze out of your eyes by now; I so wish I could give you a hug right now, but I know your sweet coworkers will tomorrow.

1.       I want you to know that every second you spend not thinking about yourself- your needs, your desires- is probably the best second you've ever spent, especially because having a toddler has made you pray harder than you ever have before! I think you’re starting to realize that, the time you invest in A, PAYS OFF. I also want you to know that God keeps track of this time. Um, yes He does! Minute by tedious minute. And do you know what, He uses that "wasted" time to bless other people, to bless A, and yep, to bless YOU! What you invest in her comes back to you and her, times one hundred, in ways you could never have come up with yourself.

2.       Today, in the moments you thought DIDN'T matter…you helped your daughter learn about eating healthy food (“Just eat one bite of fruit and you can have dessert!” “Siri, what do you do when your toddler eats chicken poop.”). You helped her work through emotion. You helped her feel loved and wanted when you sat down and watched an entire movie with her when you could have been doing something else. You helped her work through those dramatic times when she was horribly frustrated at her toothbrush, at her pillow, at a yogurt-covered spoon she threw onto the carpet, at the curtain for moving, at the fan for being in her room, at her toe for hurting... You helped her listen to you...you disciplined her...you really loved her. Did you know that in the time you could have been doing dishes, getting "stuff" done, or zoning out on Facebook..you just prepared her for LIFE!

3.  Please remember the following truths: 

You are a new creation in Christ!!! (2 Cor. 5:17)

God says, I will not cause pain without allowing something new to be born. (Is. 66:9, ERV)

In all these things, you are more than a conqueror. (Think: Amazon warrior woman)  (Romans 8:37)

HE HAS PLANS FOR YOU ALWAYS. (And yours always suck, so just look up to him!) (Jer. 29:11) 

Be thankful in ALL circumstances. (1 Thess. 5:18)

You are washed whiter than snow. (Is. 1:18)

You are loved more than you can imagine...with an everlasting love. (Jer. 31:3)

If you build your nest on God’s alter, you and your offspring will be protected, loved, and cared for. You will find home. (Ps. 84:3)

Something Beautiful

If you needed some encouragement today...

This frigid March I walked past a group of bright yellow daffodils; I was surprised they were blooming after just a few sunny days. The next day, I saw that children had been playing, and one had ripped a daffodil out of the ground and thrown it into a puddle. The contrast of the bright yellow verses the dirty mud struck me, and I took a picture.

Soon there was a very cold night, followed by hail, wind, and rain, which completely shriveled and kill the rest of them. I don’t particularly feel emotional about flowers, but I felt horrified as I stared at the formerly beautiful, delicate things, now pitifully withered and crumpled and broken.

The message here is clear to me: we are torn, broken, and muddy—we are completely far away from our original, beautiful design. Our own sin and the hurtful sin of others has completely distorted our formerly perfect bodies and souls. Terrible things have happened to us, and we are trapped in a puddle of despair, unable to see how this could ever be made into something beautiful. Shame and guilt wreak havoc as we allow them to control our very thoughts, unable to see the destruction they are causing. Once a beautiful flower-- oh, how we have fallen. Yet there is One who is ready to completely restore us and our situations into a thing of beauty. He is not far, just a simple call away, really. He is ready to pull us out of our situation, wash us clean, and heal our wounds and brokenness…He never passes over broken people. When the world wants to throw them away for lack of usefulness, beauty, and societal gain, He calls them His friends. When the world tells them they are worthless, He sees them as treasure.

“Come, let us return to the Lord; for he has torn us, that he may heal us; he has struck us down, and he will bind us up.” (Hosea 6:1, ESV)

“Behold, I am the Lord, the God of all flesh. Is anything too hard for me? (Jer. 32:27)

"For I will restore health to you, and your wounds I will heal, declares the Lord, because they have called you an outcast: ‘It is Zion, for whom no one cares!’ (Jer. 30:17)

“And God says
I’m gonna turn it into something different
I’m gonna turn it into something good
I’m gonna take all the broken pieces
And make something beautiful like only I could
So put it all in the hands of the Father
Give it up, give it all over to
The only one who can turn it into
Something beautiful…”
(Something Beautiful, Steven Curtis Chapman)

Dancing

A few months ago I visited a friends’ farm for the purpose of seeing their new baby goats. I thought that I would see little goats huddled in a cage, but instead it was baby goat exercise time— All four of them had just eaten and as the wind ruffled their fur, they began to leap about in the funniest, most delightful way! Sometimes their legs would swing too high and suddenly they would flip around with their feet awkwardly landing behind them. I was clearly able to picture in my mind all the verses in the Bible which talk about mountains jumping like lambs or rams. Job 21:11 says, “They send forth their little ones like a flock, and their children dance”, and I can see why he would compare dancing children with dancing baby goats; both are a blessing and both are lighthearted.

As a child I attended a classical Christian school which meant that “balls” were a common occurrence and your typical American dancing was unheard of (and forbidden). Instead, we private-schoolers learned the “Virginia Reel” and the “Pattycake Polka” from Kindergarten and up! As a child I remember the feeling of freedom of dancing as fast as I could, sweaty hands clutching my equally sweaty partner, both of us dressed to the nines in our school uniform, involving pleated, plaid skirts (for the girls), vests, and ironed button downs. I’ll never forget my racing heart as I was twirled around and around. The boys always tried to see who could spin the girls the fastest; the hope was that the girls would actually gain air and lift off of the ground or let out an ear-piercing shriek of fear.

As a teen I became extremely embarrassed of dancing, but remembering what it was like as child puts previously dull verses of the Bible to life! Psalm 30:11 says, “Thou hast turned for me my mourning into dancing: thou hast put off my sackcloth, and girded me with gladness.” Because my story of salvation feels like it was just yesterday, I can fully relate the act of dancing to my walk with God. True physical dancing requires a sense of fearlessness, being completely unhindered by pain or emotional worries; it is a picture of freedom. This is what Jesus has done for me and replaced sorrow and a heavy-heartedness with spiritual dancing. A mourning heart cannot dance. A heart that has been forgiven much, can turn mourning into happy feet. Sporre says, “It is without doubt that dance is part of human communication at its most fundamental level” (p. 179). Since becoming a Christian, I have spent more time dancing willingly than ever before, although it often ends up being to the tune of “Old MacDonald” with my toddler. Throughout difficult circumstances, my life is a dance. A dance while making dinner with a two-year-old on my hip, a dance while being a receptionist and scheduling a client to see hear all her pregnancy options and see her baby on an ultrasound screen, and last but not least, a dance at midnight when I feel discouraged by homework and exhausted, but the Lord gives me the strength to push forward.

Sporre, D. J. (2013). Reality Through the Arts: Eighth Edition. Hong Kong: Pearson Education, Inc.

Daycare Application, December 2014

Our first daycare application, December 2014.

Question #3: Is there anything I NEED to know about your child?

Long pause with my scratchie blue sharpie.

First of all, thank you for asking this crucial question and giving me a very tiny space to write my answer. What do you need to know about my child! Well, I present to you my heart, walking around outside of my body in size 6 orange shoes with polka dots and an Elsa dress on. I want you to know that she is different than any other child you will ever encounter. Every night I still stand over her bed and can't even believe that something so perfect exists. Her little strawberry blonde fro fluffs above the pillow and her tiny little rosebud mouth is open and she breathes softly with her little hands curled up by her face. I can't believe she's my daughter. She's so much more than her curly hair or her sunshine smile or her ocean blue eyes.

She eases into the morning with me. I have my coffee and she has her milk. A few minutes later, she could be tempted with the mention of buttery waffles or buttery toast or buttery eggs, the main ingredient of butter being the most important. By lunch, you'd better be moving quickly- she'll eat everything you have to offer and ask for more! She loves to read more than anything. She'll sit and read to herself, and anyone else who's around. She's a singer with the sweetest voice you've ever heard. You'll hear her sing the ABC's and "Pippi Yongstocking" or "Baby Jeeezus". Sometimes she'll bellow the words with everything in her little body; sometimes I hear it from across the house and my eyes fill with tears.

She's a shouter, a dancer, an encourager, a comforter. She's like a baby robin hopping in spring. She's so smart. Her brain grows every day, as fast as her hair! I can't tell you the number of times she's comforted another crying child, or how fast she forgives someone who has hit her, or how fast she figures out how to get what she wants. She also has the best sense of humor ever, so you can start taking yourself less seriously now. Please be careful because one day soon you may find yourself with a small finger painfully lodged in your armpit.

It's also important you know that if a hair touches her hand, she will be completely debilitated (this will be handy if you need her to stay in one spot for awhile). I've found that if the hair is swiftly removed by an adult, life can go on. Note: the hair cannot and will not be removed by her in any situation. Also note: she will eat oranges if you peel them in her presence and remove all strings or any other unusual orange debree, and put them directly into her open mouth. She does not allow her hands to touch oranges.

Be careful with her, because she has quite the future. She's going to be amazing. All thirty-three inches of her has already shaken my world and just about everyone else she's encountered, in only two years. You honestly have no idea what her very existence has done to my life!

This is probably your one hundredth child in the last two months, and you've probably just about had it with all the concerned parents. I want you to know I completely trust you with this girl, and I put her happily in your hands, knowing her Heavenly Dad loves her much more than I.

You're going to help her grow and learn and ultimately, you WILL be the only reason she is potty trained before 3 because honestly I've tried really hard, and it's not working. You're also going to lie to her about the Easter Bunny, but I forgive you for that.

Her favorite food is boogers, and she loves talking about dinosaurs and babies.

Other than that... No, there's nothing you need to know!

The above two were taken by Christy Kohl

(Courtesy of Creative Image)

Loved

It’s been five months since I’ve returned to my old friend The Blog, a place where I try to inspire single moms and other readers, update my family and friends on my life, and record things as they happen. It is difficult not to go back and delete some entries, but I want to keep everything here. Life is a story, and we do not get to delete the parts that we are embarrassed of or wish we had written differently.

Blogs are scary for me because I have no idea who is reading this or how it will be taken. I hope that if you do have a question or even a differing opinion, you will speak up about it. I hope that if you misunderstood me, you will allow me to try to explain it. I want to learn from you (!!!), and maybe even have a real-life discussion instead of just liking each other's Facebook posts! :)

Today I want to talk about the hardest things of all. I know I always talk about the significance of the missing member-of-the-opposite-sex (See The H Word, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera- said in the grumpy voice of my high school Latin teacher), and thankfully that lack in my life has brought me here today, even more aware of my weaknesses.

 Actually, the hardest thing in my life of all is not the lack of a significant other. The hardest thing is the one thousand things that I still try to replace God with. Sometimes it’s obvious, like recently, when a love song made me feel so lonely and unloved, and I wondered why I do not have that kind of love myself… Or how I burst into tears while trying to get A ready for bed, or while taking a quiz, or in the car before work, because I have been trying so very hard to do everything on my own without God’s help and without spending time with Him.

(Run-on sentences are necessary sometimes, guys.)

Sometimes it’s not so obvious, like the pounds that have slowly and steadily crept up on me, or the yucky, sneaky feelings of codependency, resulting in manipulative or hurtful words spoken to someone else. When I care more about what others think than anything else, or when I’m willing to die on the hill that is the least significant thing, or when I find myself in a very frightening place mentally, or even after one too many drinks.

And that's when I wonder, how on earth did I get HERE?

I want to say here, loud and clear, that nothing is ever going to work for us... We can try to fill our lives with a relationship with a guy, food, shopping sprees, physical exercise, working, organizing, friendships, family (all have the potential of being good things until we abuse them), and we can fill them with the “less acceptable” Christian sins such as promiscuity, lust, drinking, drugs etc... I have tried all of these things and more. We can fill our lives with good and bad things, until all we care about is getting more and more and more of them (that good old dopamine release!).

When I saw A running across a field today (well, it was more like speed-trotting over lumpy grass in her red cowgirl boots; it was kind of terrifying to watch), I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that no matter what she does in her life, I will always love her. I do not love her for her actions, I love her for just existing. I think she is adorable, smart, and gifted in ways I cannot even begin to know, but beyond that I think I have a tiny understanding of her worth in each one of these moments of normalcy, as all loving parents must have. Whether she draws me a picture or she disobeys me and runs into the middle of the road, I love her. Whether she has an accident in her Frozen underpants or rubs my back with her tiny hands until I fall asleep, her life is priceless to me (and even more so because I feel like she is what saved me from my darkness). The most difficult thing in my walk with God is trying to wrap my head around the fact that He has ALWAYS loved me as much as I love A, and much more. I do try, and try, and try, and try to paint Him a picture of my actions… “See God, see what I did for you today? Do you love me? Do you think I am beautiful? Do you think I am worth knowing?”

His answer is, “Are you kidding me? I DELIGHT in you! You’re so amazing!  Honey, I loved you when you were still pooping your pants and eating your boogers!”

But seriously, when nothing is working, please join me. I am already on my knees. I have nothing more to give to anyone, not my child, not my coworkers, not clients, not to my school, or friends, without my Heavenly Dad. And I can promise you more often than I have prayed anything else, I have prayed the simple words: “Please God. Please help me just get through today.”

You are not alone. You are not to live in a state of condemnation. You are free. 

These photos were done by Creative Image, Pullman, Washington.

When Dad Is Not There

"Who's dat?"

"The mommy."

"Who's dat?"

"The daddy."

"Who's dat?"

"The kids"

"Where's my daddy?"

So today A asked The Really Hard Question..
I thought she would ask this at age six. That's not very realistic of me, but I was hoping to put it off for awhile until I was better "prepared". I know that some single mamas (as well as those who are children of a single parent) are kind enough to take the time to read this blog, so I just want to take a second and have a real moment: It hurt. Amidst all of  my statements and feelings that God is our father and how we can do hard stuff and I love being A's mom and I'm so supported by my family and community and we'll be okay, of course it's still very hard.
There was about a five-second pause after she asked this that felt like maybe a year. My brain tried to register a few things-- first, that my barely 2-year-old child was capable of understanding that something was missing and is able to vocalize that, and second, was just.. pain in my chest.
I can't describe it better than that. Then I said, "A, who is your daddy?"

"Unca Bian." She said confidently. Honestly, I think she just said this knowing that Brian is Asher's daddy, but I am so glad that she knows how loved she is and that he is a father figure.

This isn't going to be an inspiring, completely well-thought out post but I just want to say...thank you to all the dads out there who are loving the little ones, whether they are related or not, whether they get praise and honor for it, or are simply do it without thanks. Thank you to all the dads who know that they are not enough and ask Christ for help. Thank you to my dad for loving me. Thank you to the famous Unca Bian.
And thank you to all the people who are dealing with the empty space of a missing person in their life, but are walking in faith believing that God is more than enough.

So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand." Isaiah 41:10