Babies Down The Drain

Babies down the drain, flushed away as thoughtlessly as sewage. Rivers of babies have been lost - 64 million in America alone. God said He sees us in our mother’s womb when we are yet unformed. That would be an embryo just 2 weeks old—unformed and quietly unknown by its mother. Yet, Father knows that tiny life and He says that in His book are written all the days that He had planned for it, before it's ever born and wakened to the world. Think of all His plans that never came to pass, all the pages of His book that were torn out. Abortion is a grief.

This is proof of how uncivilized we've become . . . it is rivers of precious babies flowing down the drain.

Artwork: The Lake, Sleeping Waters by Frederik

Pain That Claws

They weep for children lost, for bairns that were not allowed one breath of sun-filled air. They weep profusely now—but then? Then, with understanding darkened, it was they who chose the knife. It was they who chose to end the life within that held such promise . . . but now they weep.

No one told them that such pain awaited them, pain that claws into the soul. No one told them of the consequence that comes when mothers-dear end the life that they were meant to nurture. But it comes. It always comes eventually. Their conscience will not have it any other way.

If only they'd been told the truth.

Artwork: Rachel Weeping For Her Children © Stephen Gjertson
https://stephengjertsongalleries.com/

The Babe Doth Thank You

Blessed mother, courageous one, who protected the life of your unborn babe now birthed and in your arms. Angels smile upon you, dear, and stand beside to help, for you refused to bow to those who thought your babe should not be born.

You decided life is sacred above all. You said that babe inside your womb is not a chain and ball, is not a threat to happiness nor a hindrance to well-being. In fact, that babe's a joyful song that you were meant to hear. Dear blessed mother that you are, the babe doth thank you . . . and so does God.

Artwork: The Angel and the Mother by Louis Janmot