Why part of me is Fundamentalist Christian

Did the title get your attention?

I figured it would.

Yesterday I was nearby the planned parenthood here in Bloomington. I was dropping Kim of to one of her classes and she pointed out a middle aged man in a black jacket and khaki pants holding a rosary and silently reading a small piece of paper standing in the parking lot adjacent Planned Parenthood. As we were stopped at the stop light I found myself fixated on him. Kim said she saw him out there just the previous day as well.

He seemed so attuned to his task. He kept his head bowed and never stopped to look at his surroundings. I wondered to myself what he could be praying for. It was a stupid question really... He must have been praying to save unborn children. He must have been asking God to cleanse the building of what evils a death took place withen it's walls.

As the light turned green and we drove away I said to kim

"Doesn't that seem kind of stupid,"

Yet as soon as I said it I knew I had made a mistake. Inside I immediately knew that I had spoke that without realizing the full scope of my words. The first voice that spoke was my Liberal voice, the one that governs most of thought but unfortunately the Liberal voice is not always the most compromising.

In retrospect I had a sense of admiration for the man. He reminded me a lot of myself.

Just this last May I stood outside of a polling place near my hometown and held an Obama sign for 5 hours. This was my election day objective as given to me by my campaign coordinator. It might seem like a stupid task to most but I carried it out with zeal. I stood for those 5 hours with pride knowing that I was serving my cause and creating visibility. Sure my legs hurt, I got rained on a couple times, and I got a bunch of dirty looks but I was a soldier on the front lines....

I think that the man at Planned Parenthood was in a similar situation. Perhaps he was sent to do that by his church. There was something oddly powerful about him. Perhaps it was the rosary hanging from his hands. Rosarys I have always associated with Catholicism and archaic traditions from it's past. He was not a protester. He did not appear to be wanting to garner attention, he was merely there to pray for his cause...and like me standing outside of the polling place, he stood there with concentration and zeal.

There are those in my Liberal Circle of family and friends who will probably think that ideas like this are blasphemous but I have always had a sort of admiration for the Pro-Life community.

It comes back to my Adoption. When speaking about politics with people I like to mention that I'm a product of Pro-Life ideologies. I don't know very much about my adoption but I know that my birth mother was a christian and that she chose the option of life because she knew in her heart and through her faith that it was the right one. It is something that I shall be forever grateful for. Part of me wonders if there was any Pro-Life influences that might have guided her during her days of decision. I find it hard to believe she couldn't have....

This is one of the main reason why beliefs are pretty much aligned with Fundamentalist Christians on abortion. I think the value of a human life overrides the woman or the mans choice to avoid the life altering complications. I think the life cycle of a human being is the essence of beauty. A child is so full of life, and hope, and happiness. I just don't understand how people could chose abortion.

I understand a woman's right to choose, and it is her body but the thought of anyone killing an unborn child is horrible and inexcusable. My birth mother could have chosen abortion and I would not be here typing this now, and every little effect of I have had on the microcosms of this world would never have happened. That story is the story of every unborn child though.

I'm sorry If I have gotten to into politics, this has been something on my mind for awhile and when I saw the man standing with the rosary I felt compelled to express it.

For some reason I got enspired to write before bed, here's what I got. I haven't written poetry in awhile but I think I struck something good here....

The Old Maple

Once there stood a maple tree.

It was tall and grand

It’s arms reached out like wooden arms

And It’s trunk was thick and Deep

When I was a child

I would swing underneath its shady branches

Singing my favorite songs with Dad

The basket swing would creak and sway in the breeze

The old maples strong arms held the old basket swing tight

Wind would caress my face, swinging free

The old Maple saw my first friendship

A summer afternoon

Two young boys

Swinging on the tree

The tire swing flying high into the air

Pushing, higher, highern higher.

In the fall it would drop thousands of colored leaves all over the lime green grass

The painter’s palette of leaves would crunch under our feet

We would rake them into giant piles and jump into them crashing and crunching

The Old Maple shielding us from the gray skies

In the cold winters

It would watch us as we built snow forts

And sledded down the giant mounds of snow

And when Night came

The old tree watched us walk into our warm homes and shake off our snow covered clothes

Eventually there was no tire swing, or basket swing

No leaf raking or snow fort building.

Only an old Maple Tree looking on

It’s ancient limbs becoming aged and weak

One day the old Maple was gone

Cut down to nothing but a stump of rotten wood

The yard where we played as kids seemed so empty

And the Old Maple which watched us grow up was gone.