when I say I'm pro-life

{photo by Jennifer}

{trigger warning: non-explicit mentions of abortion and rape}

if I say Roe v. Wade, you know what I'm talking about. I don't have to explain the details or lay out what those words mean. it's two names with a "v" in the middle. versus. two sides standing one against the other.

I believe in a lot of unpopular things. I write a lot of things that offend people, that make them bristle and take a step back. sometimes they even write me letters or notes explaining just how wrong I am, just how far off the path I have wandered.

but this is where it gets sticky. because I'm pro-life, but I hesitate to write those words because of the connotation they immediately conjure. when I say I'm pro-life, you get a picture in your head.

I remember the day we were driving home from school passing by the McDonalds on the left and the buffet restaurant on the right. it was so many years ago, but every time I pass that corner, I still remember. there were people there, screaming, holding signs set with images of blood and death and broken body parts. the man behind us, or was it beside us, rolled down his window and commented to a red-faced picketer that they were on their way to dinner and the pictures were making him lose his appetite. the man spewed, "good. enjoy your dinner, sir," spitting out the final term of respect as though it was the filthiest curse.

I'll never forget. I think I was seven. I'm twenty-three now. I'll never forget, not as long as I live. but what I remember aren't those signs or the words on them. I remember they were vile, that they made my elementary-aged stomach do a funny sort of flip. but what I remember is that man. what I remember is the rage.

when I say I'm pro-life, I want you to know that I'm anti-shame. I'm anti-picket signs, and I'm anti-red-faced men spewing spittle and rage in the same breath, and I'm anti-bombs being flung into abortion clinics. I'm anti-whispering and I'm anti-pointing fingers.

when I say I'm pro-life, I want you to know that I'm pro-woman. I want you to know that I'm anti-rape and anti-victimizing. I'm against the twisting of women's bodies into nothing but sexual objects with the singular purpose of causing men to stumble. I want you to know that I'm pro-life because I'm pro-human, and they can go hand-in-hand.

when I say I'm pro-life, I want you to know that I've wrapped my arms around women who've had abortions and held them while they cried. I want you to know that I've heard the comments that those who claim to bear the name of Jesus make about "the least of these" behind their backs and under their breath. and it makes me sicker than those signs did, because He promised to wipe away all tears and to bring life where death would rather abide.

if you have had an abortion, I want you to hear this, so loud and so clear. I may be pro-life. but I am not anti-you. I am not, He is not. 

I know there is a better way, there has to be. I know that when the laws disappear that back-alley blood is spilled and women die out of fear and desperation. I find myself sitting with my head in my hands with tears in my eyes as I go back and forth. aren't we supposed to be hands and feet, life-bearers and love-bringers? aren't we supposed to hold and treasure and forgive, four hundred and ninety times plus one more for good measure?  aren't we supposed to protect all life, women and children alike?

how can both be done? oh Lord. there must be a better way.

so on this forty-first anniversary, I will sit in the silence with the ache burning deep in my soul. I am begging the Lion for a better way.