Guest Post: verbal hit-and-run at Concord’s “Women’s Day”

Guest post by Stephen Scaer of Nashua. Stephen was among the pro-lifers who witnessed for life at the January 21, 2017 “Women’s Day” of abortion advocacy in Concord, New Hampshire. Photos are by Phyllis Woods and are used with her kind permission. I encourage readers to look in the Comments below the post to find the reply from Veronica, who also was on the scene and who had a much more encouraging experience.

“Do you have a uterus?” asked the gray-haired woman as she and her companion walked past me as I was holding my “Dads for Life” sign at our counter protest at the Women’s Day of Action & Unity in Concord on Saturday.

Stephen and Beth Scaer (photo by Phyllis Woods).

“That’s a rather personal question.”

“You’re a man. You have to say ‘no,’ and you don’t have the right to say whether a woman should have an abortion.”

“Why not?” I asked, as she hurried away. I would have loved to have had a chance to follow her line of reasoning. I assume she wouldn’t assert that people without children had no right to speak out against child abuse, or that people who don’t own pets can’t speak out against animal cruelty. Moreover, although I’ve never been a woman, I have had some experience as an unborn child. But for the most part, these are the hit-and-run tactics the 25 or so pro-life protesters encountered.

Pro-life demonstrators included Fr. Christian Tutor (center, with 40 Days for Life sign), Cathy Kelley of Pennacook Pregnancy Center (left foreground) and Beth Scaer (yellow hat).

 

For example, a woman looked at my sign and said ‘then you should be at home with your kid,’ and took off before I could point out that my daughter was standing 20 feet away with a “Tell Planned Parenthood #GoFundYourself” sign.

My daughter’s favorite hit-and-run was a woman who shouted “you’re nuts” as she darted past, carrying a sign that said “prove me wrong.”

Another woman asked, “Are you against war?”
“I don’t know what that has to do with abortion, but I suppose it depends on the war.”

“You pro-lifers are a bunch of hypocrites. You can’t be for war and against abortion. You can’t be pro-war and call yourself a Christian.” She walked away before I could ask her opinion about Christian war-mongers such as Eisenhower, Washington, the Roman soldiers who converted in the New Testament, and King David. I really wanted to know whether she thought Lincoln had any right to be pro-war and anti-slavery.

And then of course, there was the litany of “you can’t be pro-life if you don’t support [insert your favorite government social program here].”

One older man did wait to hear a few of my responses.
“You shouldn’t tell other people what to do with their bodies.”
“Should we legalize heroin?”
“I’m for legalizing marijuana, but not heroin.”
“Then you’re telling people what to do with their bodies. Also, the child in the womb is a separate body, with her own arm, legs, head, and set of chromosomes.”
“It’s not a person. It’s just a blob of cells.”
“It has everything you have. Are you just a blob of cells?”
“You people are crazy,” he responded, and walked away.

[New Hampshire Right to Life has on its Facebook page an album of photos from the January 21 event.]


 

“Renewal rather than loss” – an adoptive family’s story

First posted during National Adoption Awareness Month 2014: guest blogger Marian Ward tells her family’s story.
photo: courtesy of Marian Ward
photo: courtesy of Marian Ward

I never remember a time when I found out we had been adopted. It was something we simply always knew. My older brother and I were a toddler and an infant respectively at the time of our adoption. My parents were so overjoyed with their new family that I doubt they could have kept our adoption secret, but they went beyond that to actually recite to us a bedtime story that explained how we became that family.

We were adopted together in what I understand was the first dual-state, simultaneous, sibling adoption in the United States at that time. It still amazes me that our adoption ever happened.

My parents had been living in Dallas, Texas. Sometime in 1979, a church in Oregon requested my dad to come and be their pastor. There just happened to be an attorney at their new church who had worked on family cases before, so shortly after moving to Oregon, my parents were able to start the process of adoption. Their praying, waiting and hoping for their children intensified. Because they had been married ten years and had been unable to have a child, they specifically requested siblings in their adoption application process.


Finally, the call came. The case worker told them about my brother, and through some miracle knew he had a sister in the Idaho foster system. The case worker asked my parents if they would like that baby, too. Both my mom and dad say they knew right away that these were “their” children. On their tenth wedding anniversary in 1982, we became an “Instant Family” as the headline read in the local paper. Of course, as is common in adoptive families, my parents were surprised with a biological son three years later.

My parents literally told us the story of our family in our bedtime stories. One of them was a book called The Chosen Baby that had been given to us by another adoptive family. More importantly, we were told The Story of Timmy and Marian. There used to be a typewritten manuscript, but my mom now recites it from memory.

Our adoption was evidently discussed often and in many nuanced ways and was demonstrated in my behavior in early elementary school. I used to explain to other students that I had been adopted by telling them that my parents got to pick me out while theirs were stuck with whatever kid they got. Being an adoptee was so intertwined in my core as even a small person that I felt as though my situation was better than those around me.

I recommend that biological, adoptive, and mixed families purposefully create and mindfully tell their own family stories. It has absolutely affected and strengthened all the layers of our family and respective individual identities through telling and retelling. Families would do well to actually write down some of the stories of older generations so we can preserve a larger body of narrative history. Be deliberate in creating new stories. Families and individuals can find healing through constructing narratives of renewal rather than loss.

Source: Ward, M. (2013). The Story of Timmy and Marian: the Ward Family Adoption Narrative and the Communication Theory of Identity. Course: Intercultural Communication, University of Arkansas at Little Rock.


 

Facing the Brutal Reality (reblogged from The Harvest is Abundant)

[Note: This is a short excerpt from Catherine Adair’s blog The Harvest is Abundant. You owe it to yourself to click through and read the whole thing. The recent Center for Medical Progress videos prompted this post. Catherine, a former PP worker, says “It took me awhile to write it, but I want to share with the world the truth behind the lies of Planned Parenthood.” –EGK]

Catherine Adair
Catherine Adair

For many of us, the former clinic workers and post-abortive women, the recent videos of Planned Parenthood executives are a nightmare. Reliving the horror of our abortions, reliving the gruesome work of the clinic, we feel alone. Who can understand our pain? We can’t even comprehend it. The callousness of those profiting from our pain is sickening, almost too much to bear. It is compounded when the media refuses to investigate the truth of what we see on those videos. It is compounded when the supporters of Planned Parenthood call us liars.

Read the full post, Facing the Brutal Reality, on The Harvest is Abundant.

 

“Tell your story”: adoption in a family’s tapestry

For National Adoption Month, I asked readers to share their own accounts of adoption. This is from Marian Ward, an Arkansas reader (and I send her my Granite State greetings), adapted from a formal presentation she made last year. 

photo: courtesy of Marian Ward
The “instant family.” Photo: courtesy of Marian Ward

I never remember a time when I found out we had been adopted. It was something we simply always knew. My older brother and I were a toddler and an infant respectively at the time of our adoption. My parents were so overjoyed with their new family that I doubt they could have kept our adoption secret, but they went beyond that to actually recite to us a bedtime story that explained how we became that family.

We were adopted together in what I understand was the first dual-state, simultaneous, sibling adoption in the United States at that time. It still amazes me that our adoption ever happened.

My parents had been living in Dallas, Texas. Sometime in 1979, a church in Oregon requested my dad to come and be their pastor. There just happened to be an attorney at their new church who had worked on family cases before, so shortly after moving to Oregon, my parents were able to start the process of adoption. Their praying, waiting and hoping for their children intensified. Because they had been married ten years and had been unable to have a child, they specifically requested siblings in their adoption application process.

Finally, the call came. The case worker told them about my brother, and through some miracle knew he had a sister in the Idaho foster system. The case worker asked my parents if they would like that baby, too. Both my mom and dad say they knew right away that these were “their” children. On their tenth wedding anniversary in 1982, we became an “Instant Family” as the headline read in the local paper. Of course, as is common in adoptive families, my parents were surprised with a biological son three years later.

My parents literally told us the story of our family in our bedtime stories. One of them was a book called The Chosen Baby that had been given to us by another adoptive family. More importantly, we were told The Story of Timmy and Marian. There used to be a typewritten manuscript, but my mom now recites it from memory.

Our adoption was evidently discussed often and in many nuanced ways and was demonstrated in my behavior in early elementary school. I used to explain to other students that I had been adopted by telling them that my parents got to pick me out while theirs were stuck with whatever kid they got. Being an adoptee was so intertwined in my core as even a small person that I felt as though my situation was better than those around me.

I recommend that biological, adoptive, and mixed families purposefully create and mindfully tell their own family stories. It has absolutely affected and strengthened all the layers of our family and respective individual identities through telling and retelling. Families would do well to actually write down some of the stories of older generations so we can preserve a larger body of narrative history. Be deliberate in creating new stories. Families and individuals can find healing through constructing narratives of renewal rather than loss.

Source: Ward, M. (2013). The Story of Timmy and Marian: the Ward Family Adoption Narrative and the Communication Theory of Identity. Course: Intercultural Communication, University of Arkansas at Little Rock.

 

 

“My job is to inform, not to convince”: guest post by Catherine Adair

My thanks go out to Catherine Adair for permission to reprint one of her recent Facebook posts. She recounts a brief conversation between two people who each could have dismissed the other as “one of THEM.” Instead, they chose another course. 

Catherine Adair
Catherine Adair

While walking with my family today we were greeted by two young men wearing Planned Parenthood t-shirts trying to raise money to “fight back.” I engaged one of them in conversation and was able to plant some seeds. He didn’t know that Hobby Lobby offered 16 types of contraception, he didn’t know that Planned Parenthood commits over 300,000 abortions a year, and he didn’t know that their CEO makes almost $500,000 a year.

He was a very nice young man who attempted to stop the conversation a few times by saying his mind wasn’t going to be changed about Planned Parenthood BUT I could see his demeanor change immediately when I told him (an African-American) that blacks make up 12% of the population but over 35% of all abortions. He was genuinely shocked.

I then said to them,”No woman wants to have an abortion. They want support and help. We need men like yourselves to stand up and say you will do whatever it takes to help, because she will be haunted by that abortion for the rest of her life”

I said thank you for listening to me, told him he was a real gentleman (he was) and we hugged each other.

Always keep in mind what St. Bernadette said, ” My job is to inform, not to convince.” If I had argued with them, or gone into a rant, or tried to convince them abortion is wrong I would have gotten nowhere. By taking a reasoned, kind approach we can plant seeds. I know that young man is going to look into what I told him, and when he finds out it is true, maybe, just maybe, his conversion will come.

Please pray for all of those who are deceived, that they may learn the truth about abortion.

About Catherine: “I used to be prochoice and worked for Planned Parenthood. Now I speak about the horror of working in an abortion clinic, and my personal experience with abortion. I hope to be able to bring more people to the truth!”