Debate Over Abortion Heats Up Again

As debate over the abortion issue heats up again, I am once again feeling shame-faced and sorry over how slowly my own pro-life convictions developed back in the early years after Roe v. Wade.

I can’t remember ever discussing politics in my family—maybe we did, but I don’t remember—and in 1973 I was completely unengaged politically. I was busy getting ready for my oral exams for my master’s degree, and planning my wedding. I think I was only vaguely aware of what abortion even was.

Early in our marriage, a good friend who was passionately pro-life raised my awareness a little, but I think the first time the issue ever made any inroad into my indifference was when I was pregnant with our first child in 1976.

I chose an obstetrician who was a respected member of our church, called his office, and told the woman on the phone that I thought I was pregnant and would like to make an appointment for a pregnancy test. Without a moment’s hesitation, she asked, “Do you want to continue the pregnancy?” When I had retrieved my lower jaw from my knees, I stammered out, “Of course I do!”

When I told my pro-life friend about this interchange, she asked me, “Well, did you ask whether the doctor does abortions, or will refer for them?” I didn’t realize the implications of the answers to those questions, and I never did get around to asking them.

Fast forward a few years. My children were in elementary school, we had moved to Arizona, and I wasn’t involved in anything in particular.

Early in our time here, I became aware of a local crisis pregnancy center and called them about possibly volunteering to sew maternity clothes for their clothing exchange. They said, “Come down and talk to us.”

On my first visit, I watched an eye-opening video about abortion, talked with the center’s director, and went home considering their invitation to go through the training to become a volunteer counselor.

I did take that training and spent the next three or four years serving in that capacity and another several years serving on their hotline after I returned to the workforce.

I learned to engage in compassionate non-judgmental conversations with women in crisis, but during those years my early lukewarmness gave way to the intense conviction that our nation was accepting the legalized murder of a vulnerable human being and deserved God’s judgment for that sin.

I’m grateful for God’s patience with me, but it really shouldn’t have taken so long.

These days I pray for our nation, both leaders and general citizenry, to wake up to the reality of what we are doing and to turn from it in revulsion and repentance.

*My early poem, “Choosing Points,” is available in the archives of the Utmost Christian Writers poetry contest.