There are some true parallels between my spirit and the spirit of an aborted baby. The more I declined the option of intentional sin in the presence of my family members, the more my mother seemed to 'unlike' me for some Catholic reason, I suppose. Is it by providence I am supposed to get some indication of what it feels like to be an unwanted daughter?
I don't know if I should be angry with my mother or weep for my mother because of her decision to let me leave her dwelling without feeling loved. For awhile, she seemed to care about me, but something changed in her attitude which caught me by surprise. An baby in a womb does not expect to be aborted because for awhile, the baby was protected by her mother with or without the help of 'the father'. I had seen my son get forced out of my household by Shane Hendrikson after they had a fight, but I felt horrified and wept because of the fight between son and Shane Hendrikson; I suppose my son doesn't remember my sadness when he was ejected by Shane D. Hendrikson, but I remember my sorrows.
While returning to what I distantly refer to as 'Stalag 1', I delayed my return to hear and see people who were being paid to care for my needs in a hotel. I needed to feel a contrast from the apathy my mother and father had when I left their dwelling when my presence and my anti-sin nature was no longer desired by my parents. I left behind a package of caramel corn unintentionally and some information on Steven Basting intentionally to make me laugh and counter some psychic reading advertising in the hotel. After being a bit rejuvenated, I rolled my way through Michigan, listening to a 'Chicago 21' cassette tape. Some of the songs matched my emotions, and tears did not make my wrinkles nor my very plain face disappear.
Does the spirit of an aborted child look for consolation? I looked at my surroundings away from my parents, seeking for a symbol of love and concern for me. A picture that depicts Yeshua praying and looking over Jerusalem got moved closer to my sleeping quarters and I was comforted by a reminder that 4 children of pro-Yehovah parents love me in my anti-sin state of mind, namely Noah, Caleb, Lila and Sean, I framed a map drawn by my 5 year old frined Noah, and Noah's family cared when I arrived at their dwelling and when I left their dwelling. The map covered up a photo of me with my siblings and parents because the map brings me joy and the photo is now painful to look at.
An aborted baby does not make long term term plans, but the baby's spirit still exists and is innocent. I really don't know how to approach the upcoming weeks, but the world looks as full of sin as the hands of an abortionist. Pro-Christmas gatherings are contrary to Yehovah and stupid Las Vegas Knight shows depict sword violence and harlotry. Meanwhile, Jonathan Toews represents a spirit much better than the spirit of Las Vegas. Even an infant that has made it through 7 months and is exposed to this world is not able to destroy the evil that they see around them because the infant is too weak and is unable to explain why he or she is crying.
By providence, I am going through a very painful experience that I did not expect to occur. I am going to trust Yehovah not to abandon me and to strengthen me when I am surrounded by the anti-Yehovah spirit of 'Christmas'. It has crossed my mind that my first encounter with all 3 of my grandchildren might be also be my last encounter with them. If how I 'finished' matters, I displayed love, not evil, to my parents and grandchildren when I was last allowed time with them and that fact is important because my conscience is not seared.
My spirit and body might actually be in a state of shock because people I still love very much have become professionals at withholding compassion from me. I cannot find the words to make myself laugh tonight, this 7th day of the 8th month.
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