I’m not a news bug. You must know that by now. I live in a little bubble, carefully constructed, and I’m behind on my blog reading to boot, so the bubble is full of pretty much only what I’ve been reading (Danielle Bean, Dean Koontz, Saint Faustina, chapters from a friend’s book, Mass readings). Maybe you’ve already heard of Eliot. Hearing his story, told by his dad, took me back to a day that I cherish, when Logan entered our lives. And how could I forget Darren, whose anniversary this year was on Easter, and who was born with Trisomy 18?
The small white caskets in my life haunt me, yes. But they have changed me, and they started the process by which I was able to become this amazing and earth-defying creature, a mother. The haunting these precious souls do is in the way they remind me about life, in the way they make the tears into gifts, in the way they lead me always back to my Father to hold me.
Abortion is not the easy answer. Life is not the easy answer. There is no easy answer. But there is joy, and watching Eliot’s dad’s video, I touched a part of the joy, I felt a peace, and I knew that, indeed, it won’t be long for us here, any of us.