No reason--just rhymes (and a little writer's block)

If I hadn't flunked music theory,
This would go much faster.
I can't quote the Circle of 5ths,
But I have friends who have it
Tattooed on their
Elbows (thanks, C.J.!)...
So,
Here goes.

It's midnight, when He comes to me
Spinning words around my head
And I just can't sleep
So here I am in front of
The keys I can play
And the music is in what I can say...
Of course, as soon as I sit down,
It's a total let-down.
My mind goes totally blank
To be frank
That key marked "delete"
Just might be the death of me
Because my screensaver
Just kicked on...
I have nothing to say.

If I go back in that bedroom,
As soon as my head hits the pillow...
Words
Will
Flow...

It's super-easy for me
To get caught up in the He-
said-she-said
Why-her-not-me
Triviality that
Trips me...
Falling flat on my
Face...
Grace
Catches up with me
When I'm trying to sleep
I think He's caught on
That it's the only time of day
When I'm quiet...
Silent...
Shh...
Then He finds me,
Holds me,
Hides me,
Intertwines His hands in my brain
And starts the game
of association in my
Head.
He says,
I say,
We say,
He wins
And I begin to laugh at the
Funny things
He links together
In ways only we
Communicate.
He speaks our own language
In my twilight.
Some might think
I'm crazy
But He knows
It's true...
He is, too.

Love knocks on the door of
My brain
At insane times of the night
And I'm not
Complaining because
It's our game
And it's how
I
Fall
Asleep...
It's how
I
Stay
Alive...
He plays
Hide-and-seek
with
His children
And He always finds
Us
First...

I don't mind
that I'm awake...
At midnight.
So
Is
He.

Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary....

How DOES your garden grow???

Ah, the garden. What a place...this mysterious place,where something starts from a tiny little speck, and, through hard work, great fear and wondering, sweat, showers, and dirt, eventually becomes something useful...something wonderful...something we hoped for, but didn't really think we could accomplish without mom (or Paige Clausen) holding our hands...
April, 2011

May 8, 2010


It's amazing, the changes that can happen in just 8 weeks.
This little flower garden (loaded with perennials), my little vegetable pots (spinach, lettuce, cilantro, rosemary, garlic chives, tomatoes), and my hanging pots (begonias, marigolds, and impatiens) are a trial effort for me. If this goes well, David and I will attempt to put in raised garden beds in our backyard next year. I realize that this may seem trite, country-fied, and silly to some people, but to understand the feeling of pride I have in my garden, you have to understand why I put the thing in, in the first place.
I have never successfully "raised" anything (you can see where this is going). Not one plant has ever blossomed under my care. I have always said that "everything I touch dies," until that phrase began to cut off my oxygen supply. I started to think it was true, for more than just plants.
It began to suffocate me--I couldn't keep anything alive...at all. The mere mention of a garden would hurt my heart, because it seemed indicative of so much more. Last year, though, the Holy Spirit began to bring the concept of a garden to my thoughts until I could finally ignore it no more.
"A garden? Me??!? I don't have a green thumb! I can't grow anything, I mean, have you SEEN my pathetic excuse for a yard/flower garden?!?!? David had put in some daisies and some green thingy a few years ago, and the indestructible holly bushes will never die, but everything's unkempt! I mean, a CAT took up residence in the bushes! The "flower garden" is a litterbox!! I can't do that!! I don't have time for that crap!"
He was persistent...a certain Misty Edwards song kept ringing through my head, and I couldn't shake it. "Put in a garden." I heard. "Grow closer to me--find out what I'm trying to teach you. It's your parable...put in the garden."
So, last year, I took the time to clean up what we already had. I pruned the Indestructible Holly Bushes (which I'd really like to get rid of), tried to untangle the daisies, attempted to save the green thingys, and put in 2 little coral bells. Other than that, the mere fact that I added dirt and mulch made a huge cosmetic difference in the front of the house.
I was shocked at what a change it brought, cosmetically.
I was shocked at the amount of weeds that can come up in 10 square feet (what IS that?!?).
"It's You and me alone, God...." That's the line from the song.
Last year, as I tried to keep the weeds under control, and intermittently pruned the IHB, I began to see how it took regular maintenance. I wasn't very good at it...and it was reflective of my spiritual life. It was intermittent, patchy...kinda full of weeds. But it was a start.
This year, I decided to take it to the next level.
The house we live in, we'd wanted to move out of after 5 years. When we bought it, we knew the neighborhood was sketchy, but we figured we'd give it a bit, and then "move up." But the housing market bombed...so we know that barring a miracle (which I'm optimistic for!), we're here for a while. I want to make my house look pretty. I want it to look like the picture I've always had in my head. It may be small, but I want it to be welcoming. I put in some annuals this week (which I wasn't going to do, but felt encouraged to do so after talking to Hannah Preston about what I really wanted to see), and my little vegetable pots are growing quite well, for the most part (I think the rosemary is out of commission. Gonna have to try that one again). I am, at this point, successfully raising SOMETHING. It's a start, and it is so much fun, to see the results come to pass.
I'm encouraged. Things are blossoming. I don't "kill everything" I touch, and that thought can disappear. And the more I prepare my place, my home, to be a place of welcome, the more I reflect on the patience and love God has for me. He's taking me down new roads that I'm scared to go down, but I know He's with me.
It's a huge time of transition for so many people I know. Some have told me it's the planetary alignment...some say it's the Chinese Year of the Rabbit, which is good for change. Others say it's the earth preparing for 2012. I know that it's God. New roads, new changes, cause us to seek Him even closer than our stagnant paths. They make us rely on Him so much more, because they make us aware of how blind we really are.
I quit my job on April 26th.
It's the craziest thing I've done (since I got married, God reminded me). I left a job that I really liked (for the most part), a field I've worked in for 10 years, in one office or another...to take a position at a university doing a job that I have little experience in. I have a LOT of learning to do. I've never worked in a corporate setting, and frankly, I am intimidated. I have faith...and so far, I've managed to block out the "what-ifs." Ben Scofield challenged us a year ago to stop living in our comfortable Plan B, and to seek God to get us back on track to Plan A. I took those words seriously, and this is where they are leading me. I am EXCITED, scared, petrified, and totally, incredibly, freaked out.
I asked Him to direct me, to get me out of Plan B...I want my calling. I want to go where He wants me to go, not where I think I have to be. This is His answer, and it is awesome.
I am blind, and I am having to hang on for dear life to the One Who is directing me down this crazy path.
I am in this place...I am starting out as a speck, with nothing, and I am relying on Him to eventually become something useful...something wonderful...something I hoped I could be, but knew I'd never accomplish without Him holding my hands...
I am trusting that with what I have invested in my garden thus far, that it will be fruitful.
I am trusting that with what He has invested in my life thus far, that I will be fruitful in this endeavor.
"I don't want to waste my time living on the outside
I'm going to live from the inside out
I don't want to waste my life living on the outside
I'm going to live from the inside out
I'm no longer my own; I'm Your garden"--Misty Edwards
May 11, 2011

Generation...

A certain sadness takes over...
Some kind of melancholy.
I dig deeper,
Try to find the branches
But maybe I should stop
Because there is disease
At the root...
My life--
I've spent it feeling
Like the odd woman out
Looking different
Thinking different
Acting different
When I look in the mirror
I see features that
Do not fit in
The family picture
(Although as I
Grow up
I am turning into
My mother)...
That nose--
Those lips
Ridiculous,
These hips
When I see the skinny legs
And little bodies
Of people who
Share the same bloodline
As me...
So I search
(for more than just a
Physical resemblance)....
Where do I come from?
The history is
Sad...
So sad...
Broken hearts litter the
Garden
Where my
"Family Tree"
took root.
Biology is
Over-rated
Yet we look to it
To feel like we
Truly belong.
Can I be free of the
Generational
Plagues
That chased down
My father?
Can I break the chains
That bound the
lives of my
Grandparents,
Coating them
with the slick deception
Of Inconvenience?
I spent a long time
Wishing I could
Fill in the
Missing Piece...
The more I learn,
The less I want to know...
The more I'd like to
Take an axe
To the family tree.
How did we make it out alive?
God bless the mother
Who wants more for her children...
Who packs the bags and
Takes the car...
Who leaves...
God bless the mother
Who throws the bastard out.
God bless the father
Who realized
That the instant-family
That came with the ring
Was never really "instant"
At all...
It brewed in love.
God bless the father
That stayed.
Out of what was intended
For destruction
Comes life,
Hope,
And a promise for tomorrow.
I am not
A product of my
Family Tree.
I am a
Product of
Adoption by
Christ.

Forgiveness...It's Not Just A Trend; It's a Way of Life (That I Suck At).

My drive-time is very often my alone time with God...that, and that awesome twilight that I have as I kind of pray myself to sleep. Of course, that drive-time is often interrupted with what I've come to call "Vehicular Tourette's" (translation: My prayers are frequently sidelined by my tendency to verbally overreact to approaching vehicles, whether or not I'm in the driver's seat), but I always try to bring it all back around. I thought this was totally abnormal, until I realized that since the God I know sees me in all of my various stages of maturity, He can handle me when I'm almost rear-ended by that moron in the SUV who just HAD to fix her makeup when my light turned red (God's heard my diatribe on women who drive vehicles larger than they can handle...and so have most of my friends, readers, and random patients who had the misfortune to ask). As I recently said (to my chagrin) to a church full of people, "God likes me, even when I've gone nuclear on my curling iron). He's God.
I'm not.
The graciousness of this realization is continuously amazing.
As I'm driving to work this morning, it dawned on me that my "spring break" has thrown me off of my pattern, so I started to pray. I found myself at a loss for words, and since a recent sermon @SG reminded me of a past place in my prayer life, I took it back to the basics of Matthew 6--The Lord's Prayer.
There was a time in my life where I could not pray, at all. I had nothing in my heart to say to God--I couldn't bring myself to trust Him with my prayers, since they'd all seemed to have fallen on deaf ears. Because I knew I HAD to pray, every single day, all I said was the "Our Father." There were days when it was the cry of my heart; there were days when it was mere recitation. There were many (MANY) days where I said it with the sole resolution that I'd say it 'til I meant it, even if it was the last prayer I prayed. It's short, sweet, and to the point, and really, it can be prayed in 30 seconds or less.
Imagine how many times that can be repeated in a 30 minute drive to work.
And back.
For 2 years.
The more I pray that prayer, though, the more I fall in love with it's complexities...with it's simplicities...with it's poetry and focus. Every time I pray The Lord's Prayer, it steels my resolve.
I could take it line by line, and break it all down, but that blog would take a while to write. This morning, I was struck by the phrase "Forgive us our sins, as we forgive those who sin against us."
I stopped praying.
It has recently come to my attention that I have a real issue with forgiveness--one that goes past being raised by an Italian father and his love of the revenge of Chuck Norris. I most definitely have some anger issues, and I have a true desire to see certain people get what I just KNOW is coming to them. Once someone is on my bad side, fahgeddaboutit. They're done. Somehow, the innocence of childhood (where my mom used to say I was the most forgiving person in the world) has been mucked over by a real bitch with a nasty right hook. I can be so stinking vicious!!! There are certain family members, coworkers, people who hated my dress, that will never know how truly angry I am with them; I lie to myself, and say that just because I've never really let them have it, that I've forgiven them, and it's all handled. Then, I lie awake at night, and think of all of the "zingers" I could have zapped them with, to make my point. Underneath it all, of course, is true hurt that I have to give to Jesus and let go. I'd rather stay mad and bitter, than forgive them, break off the muck, and get the hurt healed.
Is this the true nature of the human condition, in regards to forgiveness? Or am I alone in this?
As I was praying this phrase, "forgive us our sins, as we forgive those who sin against us," I stopped, and said, "Dear God, I hope not, because I suck at forgiveness!!!! If You forgive me, according to how I've forgiven other people, then I'm so totally screwed!!!"
I hold on to past hurts and issues so tightly, even though I know there's freedom at the cross. To forgive someone, to truly let it go--I'm not sure I even begin to know how to do that. Do you just stop talking about it (even to yourself), or is that bottling it up? Do you write one of those disposable letters that you burn and never send (that would be SO unfulfilling to me)? We lay things on an altar to give to Him, yet our hands are curled so closely around them that our fingers get burnt in the offering. Or, we let our "living sacrifices" crawl off of said altar and onto our backs to weigh us down another day.
There is freedom in forgiveness. The last thing I want to hear is someone I know tell someone else that "Cassidy has a problem with forgiveness," even though it was said in jest. That truly cut me to the quick, and made me wonder how much of that statement is true? More than I'd care to admit...but if you told me about it, I'd just stay mad at you. :)
I have been forgiven for so much...God is so much bigger than me, so much bigger than my sin, than my offense; who am I, to withhold forgiveness from anyone?
Forgiveness...
Just one more reason why I'm so thankful that God is God, and that Jesus came...and tomorrow is one more day toward learning to be like Him.

Goodnight, Sweetheart...

It's almost 4-o'clock in the morning. What. The. Heck? I've been waking up like this for the last few weeks, at roughly this same time (that's 3:00 am, plus-or-minus an hour of tossing, turning, praying, finding the "rain" music on my iPod, and wishing I could take large amounts of sleeping pills). Tonight, I wound up on the couch (David has a cold/allergy thing, and bless his heart, I can't handle it), and after a particularly vivid dream about my step-mom, here I am yet again. Wide. A. Wake.
I could write about philosophical meanderings, but I really don't have much on my mind (or is it so much, that I can't make it all make sense?). I could make something up that might make me look deep or super-spiritual (I'm not). I could contemplate the frustrations of the sudden appearance of cellulite where I never had it before (WTH? Really?!?!? NOW, of all times in my life?!?) or the fact that I can most likely cross that concept of a bikini off of my bucket list...I could go back to that ever-underlying sense of something missing in the Cooley household, but that's pretty obvious, and I don't feel like indulging in a pity party today. I could mention that I can think of at least 3 instances of unwelcome advice/recommendations from people regarding my reproductive status in the past week alone, and how trying that is, but when I put it in that perspective, I'm pretty sure you get my point...besides, getting THAT riled up when all I want to do is go back to sleep is probably counterproductive.
There's a lot that I could say.
There's far too much that I do say.
The things I should say, I usually bury under fear and self-loathing...
And the things I should leave alone, I usually blurt out in a montage of oblivity and/or what boils down to pride.
Ever wonder what your life would be like, if you'd have just moved your chess piece one square over in a different direction? How much impact would that one square make?
That's one for 4:00 am.
Ever wonder if any of it will make sense? Or if you'll ever live long enough to see if He truly makes everything work out for His good? If He really does have those "plans to give us a hope and a future?" Or how our various messes eventually come together and make the amazing tapestry He's set into order (don't get that last phrase twisted--I'm not a Calvinist)?
No one has it easy. Nobody's life is perfect, no matter what beautiful pictures we make on Sunday morning. We all have what we want people to see, and what really is (and I don't care who you are--we're all in the same boat). As honest as I've always said I wanted to keep my blog, I've been avoiding it for the last few months because I don't want to face the backlash of what people would think if I really let 'er rip (and that includes my husband, whom I will respectfully defer to, as he is the head of this household, and I'm not going to post anything that would elicit the "CASS!" response that I know when to expect :) on certain issues, be they theological, political, or otherwise. I also have been just too plain lazy to do the research on a few things that I will eventually get to (adoption, surrogacy, US infant mortality rates, creation, evolution, abortion, and the fact that Charles Darwin was one of the biggest racists EVER, yet we allow his sick, twisted beliefs on the "origin" of our "species" to dominate our "educational" system)...
Hey, that might just be why I'm awake at 4:00 am...that's a lot on my to-do list.
None of those are peaceful issues to discuss, and a few of them could totally offend people if they let it (regardless of the fact that it's my stinkin' blog). I've been afraid to tackle any of those subjects, because I didn't want it to affect my job or offend anyone who didn't want to hear my conclusions...but I really need to get back to writing stuff that matters, so I'm thinking I need to get over my "fear of offending" and (post-spousal review) intelligently present my simple opinion of complicated issues....The last 2 times I said I was going to do this, I wound up hitting the "snooze" button...darn it!
And no, I don't really think anyone cares. Since this blog has nowhere NEAR the hits as my original MS blog, I think at this point in my writing "career," I'm safe to postulate.
With that off of my chest...and a to-do list that I'd better get cracking on, just in case that New Madrid-or-whatever fault-line-earthquake-apocalypse-thing hits St. Louis, and I lose my internet connection...I'm going back to sleep.

...And...

If you're looking for Susie-so-Happy, that is not me, right now. I told a friend tonight that one thing I hated about books on the grieving "process" is how they candy-coat things into making it all sound so holy and perfect.
I am not "holy and perfect" right now.
My life is not all about my loss. There is much, much more to me, and losing my daughter is only a percentage. I'm a fairly "normal" person, and that is only part of my "story." It doesn't "define" me. I am comfortable around pregnant people, I can go to baby showers, I can cuddle most infants, I can walk through the baby department, and I will not go postal, so please don't judge me and say that you think I have a problem around someone because they're in the maternal way. Yippee for them. No, really--I have a deep love for pregnancy. It's the most beautiful time in a woman's life, and babies are AWESOME. That being said...
There are certain parts of losing a family member (no matter how small they were) that one must go through. You eventually have to go through their things; eventually, no matter the age, you have to decide on things to get rid of.
First, we got rid of the diapers...the formula...anything new went back to the store, or to the unending number of people that were pregnant at the same time I was.
Certain things were initially held back...a Blues hockey onesie, a particular dress...then, slowly, even those things began to find homes. Some things are still in storage (I haven't given up hope-hope is restored, I am hanging on, etc)=, but some things must be passed along for the sake of space.
This is a small house.
We bought the crib, secondhand. It came with a changing table...the mattress, we purchased brand-new.
"New crib mattress for sale...never used."
They've sat there, in our "nursery," for 4 1/2 years.
The time has come.
They have been passed along.
My nursery is empty.
As practical as I know this is (I have nephews that would like to have a bed to sleep on; we're now looking for bunk beds or a trundle bed to put in there, so if you know anyone, please let us know), words can't describe how much this sucks.
Please don't say, "I'm so sorry." I'm not trying to elicit a compassionate response. This will be fine--I will be okay.
David told me not to go in there, after they came to take the crib away...he said to wait.
I couldn't.
I walked in
This pain is palpable.
I feel like I've been disemboweled.
There is no holiness to this feeling.
There is only leaning.
I can't stand up.
I wasn't even going to write about this, because I feel so much of this very painful journey has been so public...recent doctor's visits have cut my feet out from underneath of me, and I find myself struggling to breathe.
I've actually been sick with some kind of throat infection for almost a month, and I can't help but think the "funk" from the December cardiologist's visit upset me so much that my immune system shut down. I'm on my second round of antibiotics, and I'm exhausted...
I'm back to working out 2x/week, and I'm hoping to consistently get to 3x/week, in spite of being sick. That's got to help, right?
I have an amazing network of friends....I'm sure they're sick of me by now. I have an amazing husband...my family is fractured right now, so I'm trying not to talk to them about this.
This is not about giving up hope...
This is not about not trusting Him.
This is about today.
Today hurts.
Today, I'm not angry...
Today, the fact that we bought furniture we planned to use...and never got to use...hurts my heart.
The fact that the furniture went to someone who will grow up in love, lessens that pain, and helps me to pray for that family...that there would be miraculous provision...strength...phenomenal peace...and nothing but the greatest of blessings.
Today I prayed over that furniture, before I said goodbye (in tears).
And I thanked God for the day that will come,
When I will have the need to ask for it back.

Abortion, Adoption, and Government Redefinition

I'm not the most politically minded girl. I rarely comment on political things, since I don't really pay a whole lot of attention to that section of the news (it usually frustrates me into a coma, when I do), but every now and then, the perfect storm of a particular issue will get under my skin. And, every now and then, I dig a little deeper to find out what all of the ruckus is about...
First of all, let me preface this:
I'm a registered Republican. Does that mean I always agree with my party? Heck, no. But if you must know, in order to validate my political tantrum, then yes, I'm a Republican.
Most importantly, I'm a Christian. No, I'm not going to hit you over the head with a Bible and tell you you're doomed....but I am going to tell you that I believe God loves you, and that this cosmic killjoy with a beard that we're taught to envision, is not the God Who loves us so amazingly.
Thirdly, I am 100% pro-life. I didn't believe in abortion before I got pregnant, due to my own research on fetal development and my values of life....and I sure as heck don't believe in it now that I've felt that life grow within me. I was born at a completely inopportune time for my mother; she considered aborting me. Since she changed her mind, I can't help but be grateful that my mom honored life...and so do I.
That being said, I have several friends who are pro-choice, hate Christians, and are Democrats. I'm okay with that--I love them for who they are, not for their political/religious beliefs.
New legislation is pending with "health care reform." For the record, since I'm establishing myself before I make my point, I am AGAINST GOVERNMENT-SPONSORED HEALTH CARE REFORM. Anyone who has worked with the current government-sponsored health care reform (Medicare/Medicaid) will tell you it is SEVERELY FLAWED, and the idiots who came up with it, have no business in the health care industry. Health care reform should be privatized by an institution blending physicians in several specialties, and patients/staff who have seen both sides of the issues. Doctors, with no ties to any pharmaceutical company whatsoever, are the only people I'd trust to dictate standards of "necessary" care--not politicians, not drug companies, and definitely not the government. But, that's my perfect world...I digress.
I am against the federal funding of abortion. I believe we as taxpayers should have the option to deny our personal monies being delegated to support the abortion industry. I would love to see the word "abortion" replaced by "adoption" in our vocabularies, and I would love even more, to see the women in these situations, given counseling options that are truly considerate of where they are in life.
That being said, abortions performed in the case of rape or incest have always warranted a turned head from most people. Most of us would say, "Absolutely-who would want to carry the product of rape or incest to term?" I don't know the answer to that. In a perfect world, a woman would be given the degree of counseling that she needs to make that decision with peace...but if someone hasn't been in that situation, you can't expect them to understand the decision she makes.
Can you imagine? Having someone invade you so horribly, that all you want to do is wash it away--all you want to do is forget the trauma you went through...and then you find out that you can't.
I am adamantly pro-life; I'd like to think I would not abort that child, that I have enough of a support group to carry me and my husband through that situation. But I think of a time in my life where "no means no" didn't apply, and the years of pain that followed...had I become pregnant from that encounter, I don't know what I would have done.
And now, with the government stepping in with a "redefinition of rape," I don't know if there would have been anyone to help me, regardless:

'"The House Republicans' second major legislative masterwork since coming into power — the first being a symbolic go-nowhere bill to repeal the Democrats' health care reform law — is called the "No Taxpayer Funding for Abortion Act." Direct taxpayer funding for abortion has been outlawed since 1976. But the new health care law brought back this debate about what counts as "taxpayer funding for abortion." What about government tax breaks or subsidies for plans that include abortion coverage? The GOP's new bill, among other things, would eliminate the health insurance tax-deduction for any plans that offer abortion coverage, meaning those plans would cease to exist.

But for years, there have been exceptions for abortions that are eligible for federal funding: In case of rape, incest, and when the pregnancy endangers the mother's life. The "No Taxpayer Funding for Abortion Act" would make some changes to trifecta! Mother Jones' Nick Baumann reports:

With this legislation, which was introduced last week by Rep. Chris Smith (R-N.J.), Republicans propose that the rape exemption be limited to "forcible rape." This would rule out federal assistance for abortions in many rape cases, including instances of statutory rape, many of which are non-forcible. For example: If a 13-year-old girl is impregnated by a 24-year-old adult, she would no longer qualify to have Medicaid pay for an abortion. (Smith's spokesman did not respond to a call and an email requesting comment.)

Other types of rapes that would no longer be covered by the exemption include rapes in which the woman was drugged or given excessive amounts of alcohol, rapes of women with limited mental capacity, and many date rapes.

The fact that "forcible rape" has no real meaning as a federal legal term makes this all the more obnoxious.

Oh, and what about the incest exception? "As for the incest exception, the bill would only allow federally funded abortions if the woman is under 18." You figure out the rationale on that one."

I don't know what the House intends to do, with this kind of "legislation." How dare they? Not only is it ludicrous--it's damaging for women like me, who wait years before finally getting the counseling and the help they need for that situation.

I believe that with Godly counsel, love, and a tremendous amount of support, Grace can overcome any situation--I really do. This government "redefinition," however, will cause women to hide in shame, and I do not believe it will do ANYTHING to curb the abortion industry. Women will simply say what they need to say to get the services covered, if that is the decision they want to make. Congress is only making it more difficult to get to the truth of the matter.

Abortion should be a decision that is made state-by-state, and that the degree of its availability, as well as it's funding, should be an issue that is strictly voted on by the people. Do I believe Roe vs. Wade should be overturned? Absolutely. Do I believe that we, as a society, are ready to handle the influx of babies who will need loving adoptive homes, or the influx of mothers-to-be that will need adequate health care? No, I don't. I don't think we're there yet (though I know of many churches who are trying to lead the way). Until we get there, and even when we get there, the way that rape/incest cases are handled will require love, compassion, support, and grace, that we as a society (and primarily as a church) need to offer--we don't need the government (or anyone else) passing judgment on a woman and what defines her condition.

Love the woman. Love the child. Anything less than that should be silenced.