Some of the More Things of Heaven and Earth

We live in a world that professes to love beauty, to love when people triumph over adversity, to love courage and fortitude and persistence. We celebrate it in wounded warriors, in athletes, in students that come from disadvantaged situations. When someone who has defined parameters we can see, exceeds them, even for a moment, it is a stop and recognize "there are more things in heaven and earth Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy." type of moment.  But the world seems to think, we need less of these moments, as it continues to champion the destruction of the disabled in the womb, and sanction the euthanasia of the elderly.  The world professes to love seeing people triumph over adversity, but advocates for eliminating all people who might suffer from adversity.  You can't have the victory without the struggle, but the world, out of fear, out of hopelessness, has declared, all struggling should be eliminated.

Today, my son came to me and said, "Catch" and threw me a ball. It is a simple thing. But for my son to speak is already more than I expect. For him to invite me to play with him, and to do it multiple times, showing me he knows what he wanted, and how to say it, and how to do it, well, I had my miracle for today. He even caught the ball twice. 

Some people think people like Paul should be destroyed before they're ever born, to save them from suffering through the trials of this life. Some people think giving birth to a disabled child if you know the child will be disabled, is the height of selfishness, because you could have spared them.  

The problem with this sort of thinking is it denies a reality. No matter what the tests show, every child will be dis-abled, in that there will be some things that any given child cannot do or do well. There has not yet been born a Super baby, and even those exceptionally gifted, struggle with something because all of us do. Should your child be born perfect, there will still be the flaws of the world, of teachers and bees, mean dogs and rainy days, boredom and chores he finds tedious. She might hate ballet even though she has the legs and grace and apparent talent. She might love singing, though her voice is that of a frog. Desire, talent, reason and capacity do not always line up, and no matter who one gives birth to, or how well they are raised, there will be at some point, some rawness, some keen disappointment which shakes them out of the idea that all in life must flow without effort, and without suffering. Someone will die, someone will fail, someone will not show up, someone will disappoint. It may even be themselves.

We cannot bubble wrap life and live it to the marrow at the same time. If we opt for safety in all things, we can create a fragile creature of a person, and ensure they never have a skinned knee, but that will rob them of the joy of discovering they can survive such things, and that such things in the scheme of things, are not worth worrying over. Eventually, science will allow us to eliminate all sorts of conditions, but only at the cost of all sorts of people, people like Michael J. Fox, like Beethoven, like Stevie Wonder, like anyone we've ever met who inspired us because they didn't let their disability define the whole of them, or rather, they didn't let us define them solely by their disability. They already knew they were more than their blindness or Parkinson's or deafness or whatever it was, they already knew they were whole people of infinite worth.

Paul doesn't have a magic talent like they showcase in Hollywood movies. He can't count cards like Rainman, and he isn't a musician of professional caliber. He's seven.   But none of his brothers or sisters weigh Paul's worth by what he can't do. They celebrate his presence daily, not because they're angels, but because they recognize his victories are just that, victories over what the world says about his capacity to add value to life. Paul adds salt to our family. We were a big family before him, but he has made us fuller. 

Tomorrow, he will show me another miracle. It may be when he (he's seven), wants to go outside, and brings me my gloves. It is a  gallant little gesture on his part, but the world will be saved by little acts, by little kindnesses, by little miracles. And people like Paul, specialize in those sorts of things that will save the world. 

Facebook Charcoal Fire

Don't bite on it.  Click ignore.  Read something else.  Check your email. Go blog. Go tweet!  Do something, anything, but don't go back and respond to that post.

We've all been there.  You log onto Facebook and there is a post, advocating something that you cannot possibly stomach, and worse, it is posted from a friend.  You make a comment maybe, or click, "I don't want to see this." but the posts keep coming.  You unfollow for a time, but still, the links and the posts keep coming.  It starts to feel like a constant drill into the head.  There are the subsequent "subtle" shares of links and posts that dispute the issue at hand, but eventually, one has to either swear off entirely or address the issue.

It's at this point, I so get Saint Peter.  Because I feel very cowardly at the charcoal fire put before me on Facebook.   How many times can you read something you absolutely disagree with on every level before you either brand yourself a coward, or speak up?

And the stupid cost.  The cost. The cost. The cost.  This is a friend.  They would never talk about this sort of thing with me face to face in this manner.  Even if we did bring up something difficult and found we disagreed, the conversation would be reasonable, it would be charitable, we'd have laughs and talk about everything we have in common rather than what divides us.

Neither Facebook nor the internet allow for that sort of dialogue easily.  The venue is best for hit and run, drive by stake out your position and dare someone to disagree type memes.  Click like and move on.  Will I lose them?  Should I be holding their friendship so dear?  Is their friendship that dear, am I valuing it too much or not enough?

Is it a call to evangelize, or a time to be prudent?  I know which one I will pick, and draft as best I can, a private message.  Underlying every word is a beg.  Please don't dismiss me, please don't throw me away, please don't hate me.  I'd make a lousy apostle, I don't do dislike well.   It's humiliating to know, even at forty-nine, I'm still so damn needy.  Still full of doubts, still worried when I have to stand up, I will be alone.

But I profess to be Pro-life, I always have been.  Being a two pound eleven ounce baby myself, I have a fire in the heart for the smallest of all.  Science informs me that a human is human from conception to natural death, regardless of capacity, past, present or future.  

So when the discussion of defunding Planned Parenthood came up, I signed petitions, I prayed, and thought back to when I first learned the reality of this organization.  

Back in 1992, when I first discovered myself expecting, I went to the general doctor office near my apartment.  The doctor heard my medical history and immediately said, "Abort."  When I said no, he told me in order to treat me, I'd have to have some lab work and sent me to Planned Parenthood with an appointment for a pregnancy test.   At the time, I admittedly didn't know of Planned Parenthood as a brand, and agreed to the appointment.

Inside the clinic, I sat while the man drew my blood.  I noticed the place was dirtier than what I expected.  I saw what looked like a little lump of flesh on the floor, and bits of bloody guts, they reminded me of when I gutted freshly caught fish before I've cleaned up.   I told myself I was imagining things.

The lab technician told me I was pregnant, and immediately asked me if I wanted an abortion.  When I said, "No!  Are you serious? (though I think I said crazy),  I'm keeping the baby!" He said, "Then I can't help you."  and I left. I felt an urgency to flee. No other services were offered but abortion.  I felt an urge as I saw the other women in the clinic sitting and waiting for whatever they were waiting for, to tell them, "Run." I hope some of them did, and found themselves with now twenty-two year old sons and daughters they love beyond all measure.

But I can still see that young man in the lab coat, I remember his face.  I also can't forget the fleshy bit I didn't imagine on the floor.

So when I read what former directors and doctors of Planned Parenthood say about abortion, about what goes on inside those walls, I believe them, and think, as soon to be named a Saint, Blessed Mother Teresa said, "If abortion is not evil, then nothing is evil."  And as is said in my favorite Star Trek Series, Deep Space Nine, "Evil must be opposed."  

We do not want a society that thinks those not convenient, should be ignored, swept under the rug, destroyed or hidden.  I know what that means, caring for the homeless, the disabled, those in prisons, those dislocated by war, those here in great need, the just and the unjust, all of them, matter.  It isn't an easy thing to advocate, because the political parties do not lend themselves to all, but only to some.  Often the argument in favor of caring for all gets derailed by the imperfect nature of proposed solutions.  But the absence of a solution that fits all, does not eliminate the need to stand for something which is good, and will to work out the details as we go.

Pope Francis came to this country. He fed the homeless, he visited those in prisons, he counseled the ignorant, (Congress), he prayed with the suffering, he counseled us to harbour the harbourless, he prayed for the living and the dead, he lay hands on the sick, he sent a letter to try and ransom the captive (woman on death row who was not pardoned).  He encouraged the faithful to have hope, counseling the doubtful.  In short, he did as many acts (spiritual and corporeal) of mercy as he could in the six days he was here.  He tried to embody the truth, the good, the beauty of the Catholic faith, to all who encountered him.

If the Church is right about feeding the hungry, being stewards of the Earth and all her peoples, caring for the sick, welcoming the lost, lonely, scared and the stranger, then isn't it possible, we're right about needing to care for these unborn too?   To those who say, what about the mother? I say, they must be cared for, that is part of the necessary act of a Catholic, to care for the woman with an unplanned pregnancy, for the mother, for the child, for the father, for the family whether it is bound legally or not.  (See, I agree, it isn't an easy solution, it will require work).   What is good, is good, and what is evil is evil, even if the law ignores the reality or pretends it is neutral.

So I hope my friend reads my words and hears the heart behind them and knows I'm still a friend, and maybe can see why this issue reflects the same value necessary for all the other classes of people in need of a pro-life society.