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Getting Away With Murder
by Terry Michaels
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The reason I took Roxanne to get an abortion the second time around was because it was so easy the first time around. That is the scary reality about terminating a pregnancy, itís pathetically hassle free. So long as you can completely disassociate yourself from the fact that that little swimmer is a living being itís as simple as putting a rabid dog down. You donít even have to be the one pulling the trigger. All one need do is offer her belly up for target practice and a long line of trigger-happy volunteers will start polishing their pistols. It is not my intent to come off as harsh toward those who have undergone this most unfortunate procedure. I have walked this road myself to a certain degree, and if the shoe were on the other foot it would have been my tummy on the table and not Roxanneís. But the fact that abortion is quick and convenient does not change the cold reality that a brutal act is committed. I also think there would be fewer abortions if young people were truly aware of what they were ridding themselves of. Sadly, though, abortion is pimped off as a quick fix to a common bother no worse than a flea bite.

It wasnít until my wife was pregnant with our first child that I fully grasped how horrific the act of abortion is. We had gone in for an ultrasound while Christy was still in her first trimester. As Dr. Munson swept her hand across my brides slippery belly a wee figure appeared on the small monitor. She had tiny little hands and tiny little feet, and a tiny little heart that went Ďbeep, beep, beepí. Though our sweet baby was miniature in size everything was there to qualify her as a living, feeling human being. A couple of things happened to me when that tiny person introduced herself onto the screen. Firstly, I celebrated life! I rejoiced over the beautiful new creation formed in Christyís womb. But then it struck me, I was responsible for the murder of two others just like her.

* * * * *

The funny thing about being young is that statistics get blown way out of proportion especially with regard to sex, and even more so when you factor yourself into the equation. The hormonal teen calculates the chances of pregnancy at one in a billion. If youíre wearing a condom the chances improve in your favor to one in a trillion. When passion takes over youíre estimating that your sperm has about as much chance at fertilization as a small ice cube on a hot griddle. But, if it just so happens that you wind up as one of those unlikely statistics, there is always the Free Clinic. And once youíve walked their red carpet you are no longer worried about statistics at all.

Like any other sixteen year old girl would be, Roxanne was frightened when she suspected that she might be with child. We were already familiar with the Free Clinic and didnít think twice about visiting there. No appointment was made, we just showed up, walk-ins were more than welcome. The waiting room was full but still. Expressions of shame swept across each face. I suspect they all felt dirty as I did. Itís one of those places you pray not to bump into a friend or an acquaintance. You donít even want to be spotted by the mailman or local grocery clerk. There are only two reasons why one might end up at a clinic like this, either youíre pregnant or you have some embarrassing venereal disease. If a guy shows up alone heís had; the girls know right away that heís not dating material. The Free Clinic is not a social environment even though it might be a common interest that brings like-people together. Youíre keeping clear from those you suspect might carry the crabs and youíre wondering if theyíre avoiding you for the same reason.

Though we would not have cared to admit it at the time, Roxanne and I did have much in common with the other patients at the clinic. We were all young, confused and scared. We had all gotten ourselves into a predicament for which adolescence had failed to prepare us. We were all afraid of being found out. And, as far as any of us could tell, there was really only one place to run to. The hopelessness one feels in a place such as this is very real. Itís felt when sitting next to a thirteen-year-old with a neck full of hickeys. It is felt by the fifteen-year-old who has no one beside her at all. Sadly, there is a segment of Christian society that has waged war against these desperate teens. They, too, are misguided. The issue is not with these lost kids. It is with those who claim to be helping them, the abortionists.

Once the pregnancy was confirmed Roxanne received counsel, should you wish to call it that. If it could truly be considered counsel at all I would not classify it as wise by any stretch of the imagination. The option of going full term was raised but only for the sake of talking us out of it. It was considered a foolish idea which would offer no real benefit to anyone. Abortion was presented as the most viable alternative for our Ďlittle predicamentí. It was described as a simple procedure which would be performed in complete secrecy; not even our parents had to know about it. The best news of all was that Uncle Sam would take care of the entire tab. Tell me if thatís not a carrot on a stick for a frightened teen? It didnít take long to convince us that this was the most practical way to go. It offered every convenience we could possibly hope for. ĎA little bit of suction and the problem goes away? Just show us where to sign!í

Never did Roxanne or I consider the growth inside her womb as a living being. The thought didnít even cross our minds. I confess we were both quite ignorant of the facts of life and, looking back, it seems that the Free Clinic took willful advantage of our naivetť. Our lack of understanding coupled with the counsel we received led us to believe that abortion wasnít any different than removing an egg from the nest of a chicken. We never thought in terms of a living creature with tiny hands and cute little feet or a precious heart that beats out the sound of life. It did not dawn on us that a soul with unique personality, intellect and emotions had already been formed by the hand of an Almighty Creator. We thought of one thing and one thing only: whatís the easiest way out of this situation? How can we stop it before it grows worse? Had we seen a picture of one of these dear babes, an ultrasound image or even a sketch drawing, we would have had other considerations, ones that may have spared a life. But, to us, this growth had more of parasitical nature than a human one. Therefore, we thought only in terms of eradicating it before it became a bigger drain. So, with my support, Roxanne signed on the dotted line.

* * * * *

All went smoothly as promised: the abortion was quick and simple, Uncle Sam popped for all the expenses and no one ever found out. The Free Clinic lived up to its name, ridding the world of one more unwanted pregnancy at no cost to a vulnerable, naÔve teenager. They are a dear friend to anyone who canít face the responsibility of their actions. Pass it on to them and they will quickly see to it that itís terminated once and for all. All thatís required is that you close your eyes to the sanctity of life. If you can pull that off everything will go without a hitch. Furthermore, you are always welcome back to the clinic should you find yourself in a pickle again. Roxanne and I did, and the second time was even easier.

* * * * *

Since coming to Christ I have had to face a disturbing reality, there is blood on my hands. I not only consented to killing two dear babes that I fathered, I fully encouraged it. If man has been given the supreme authority to determine when life begins then Iíve done no wrong. But if there is a Creator then He reserves the right to make that determination. And if our Creator determines that life begins at conception then what I have done is outright murder. I canít whitewash it away. I do believe there is a God and because He is the Author of life and the supreme authority over life, I am guilty of taking a life. Not just one but two, two precious lives He designed before time began and formed in the womb of His choosing. Like I said, I have blood on my hands. The good news is my bloody hands have been washed by the blood of His hands. The Creator of life packaged Himself in human flesh in the glorious person of Jesus Christ. This man Jesus took the blood off my hands when blood poured forth from His own on the cross of Calvary. Because of His blood I have been pardoned of murder and every other sin Iíve committed. Because Iíve been pardoned I now have the hope of heaven. There I will meet the two children that my selfishness and ignorance robbed from me.

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