Tuesday, May 17, 2022

Roe v. My Mother: A Personal Story

Roe v. My Mother: A Personal Story

Published in Marietta (GA) Daily Journal, 5/14/22


“Imagine being upset that babies will live.” So read a Facebook post that I ran across recently just after arriving home from my five-year-old grandson’s baseball game. At the ball park my wife and I had sat beside the young wife of one of our grandson’s coaches. With a two-year-old at her knee and a five-week-old in her arms, the young wife and mother had her hands full.

            Well into the game the two-year-old fell over and underneath the bleachers. Quickly my wife reached to take the five-week-old. Although the infant cried at first, my wife soon worked her magic. Within minutes the beautiful, fresh-looking pajama-clad baby was asleep.

            All I could think of as I kept staring at the baby was the ongoing, so recently intensified  abortion debate. The five-week-old’s face kept bombarding my mind with the question: How. Can. Any. Woman. Support. Abortion? If any pro-abort woman could have looked  into the face of this precious baby, would it perhaps have melted her and made her think about what she’s actually advocating?

            My mother married at age 15. Her first child was born when she was 17. From age 17 to  47 she was having a baby approximately every two years, seventeen in all. How shameful! No woman should have that many babies. Thirty solid years (1917-1947) of childbearing plus 17 additional years of rearing her last child? Were there no health services in Scott County, Mississippi to explain to my mother and father their lack of knowledge or wisdom? Were they even minimally educated? Sounds like a typical situation of white trash, doesn’t it.

            No, it was an atypical situation of joy and beauty. It was laughter galore. It was tenant farmer hard work and training in responsibility. It was parents who so loved their children that we dared not do anything that would disappoint them. It was faith in God and learning to put others before oneself. It was learning early in life that language is the vehicle on which our thoughts ride and that if our language is ugly, our thought world must be ugly. It was do your best, not only in school but also in the fields. It was the glorious acquaintance with soil, the woods, and cows. It was meals together three times a day that fed our minds and spirits, not just our bodies.

            If my mother’s thirty years of childbearing had led into the ‘60s instead of ending in the late ‘40s, Planned Parenthood would have encouraged her to murder some of us. Yes, murder. Does abortion not intentionally end a life?  To crush an unborn baby or to suction it out of its mother’s womb is barbaric. I wish former Governor Northam of Virginia (a pediatric physician, for heaven’s sake) could have sat beside my wife and stared at the precious five-week-old she was rocking back and forth in the bleachers. You think he might have repented of saying what he said about keeping an already born baby comfortable while the mother and doctor discuss what to do with it? God help us! Did the doctor not know that “fetus” is a Latin word for offspring and does not refer to tissue?

            Abortion defenders have moved from “safe, legal, and rare” to “abortion on demand.” The Democrat Party is not alone in pushing this morally abhorrent position. The World Health Organization, in its “Abortion Care Guideline” calls for abortion through the ninth month. The WHO calls for free abortions paid for by taxpayers in all nations as well as for allowing non-doctors to perform them.

            Weasel words abound in the pro-abortion crowd’s lexicon. A fetus isn’t life, they say. It is “potential life,” a term that a 10th grade biology student could successfully refute. But abortion promotes “equality for women.” No, most women who seek abortions are not well-situated women exercising their own “choice.” Most are desperate single women who need the help that pro-life groups try desperately to provide, those like Norma McCorvey, the real “Jane Roe” who ignited our 55-year-old abortion debate.

            Recently in Mississippi we buried my mother’s 6th child and 3rd daughter. She would have turned 96 in July. She was the mother of four beautiful children and numerous grandchildren and great-grandchildren.  Her life was as vibrant, joyous, and rewarding as our mother’s. She joins six other siblings in death. How do you suppose we remaining ten children feel about abortion?

            “Settled law,” like “settled science,” is a squishy, arguable term. I’m glad that Dred Scott and Plessy v. Ferguson were finally un-settled. As the purloined brief of Justice Alito insists, Roe v. Wade needs to be un-settled as well.

              I’m a proud Georgian now, but proud also that my home state of Mississippi got the ball rolling for overturning Roe. If the Supreme Court overturns Roe and Republicans take Congress, let’s see if Republicans will finally walk their talk and cut off Congress’s generous funding to the abortion lovers at Planned Parenthood.

            For the political left, abortion, an act of violence, has become orthodoxy. I’m grateful to God that my ten sisters, six brothers, and I were conceived and birthed before such incredible religious fervor for an act of violence emerged. If I may say so, such evil fervor, had it been applied to my siblings, would have shorted the world of one good farmer, two career soldiers, one pastor, one mail carrier, one insurance agent, one teacher/legislator, three executive secretaries, two registered nurses, and five incredible domestic engineers, none of whom were defined by their line of work but by their love of God and of life and by the fact that they were “all those Hines kids.”

Roger Hines

May 9, 2022

           

           

1 comment:

  1. Thank you for being such a prolific voice of clarity and reason!

    ReplyDelete