Reaching Out

As I head out for the Walk for Life -San Diego, I remembered an old post about reaching out and decided to repost it:

The following quote struck me like a bolt of lightening. ~ I am that quote.  Through the grace of God, my wounds are healed and that's why I write devotionals and why I'm involved in Rachel's Hope and Silent No More.

This doesn't just apply to post-abortive women, it applies to anyone who has experienced physical, emotional or spiritual trauma.  It is human nature to bury those memories in the deepest recesses of our soul...it defends us against re-experiencing them.  Reaching out for help in dealing with past traumas, and turning them over to God, removes the pain and anguish that has taken up so much valuable space in our souls, making room for indescribable peace, serenity and joy.

Psalm 147:3

He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.

HAVE A BLESSED DAY!    

Who Won?

Oh, the perils of writing!

I've been feverishly working on a volume of The San Francisco Wedding Planner and decided to take a break and switch over to Volume IV of Grave Obsessions- Unholy Vengeance.  Sometimes a little murder breaks the monotony....right?

My main character, Detective Dallas Keegan, is being taunted by her nemesis, Adan Fredricks.  He is viciously attacking college co-eds, leaving an ominous message with each body on his path of retribution.

It was in the middle of a nocturnal writing session, around 2 a.m.  Words flowed like a flash flood until I reached a "literary combat zone".  I decided to add a little romance amidst the carnage by introducing a love interest for Dallas' partner, Twyla.  He was THE Rhett Butler of the FBI (for you youngsters ... a real hunk), and the storyline flowed beautifully for a while.  I wrote about a romantic dinner, and suddenly my finger hit the backspace button...I changed it to a lunch date and again, the backspace key activated.  What about a long, middle of the night phone call?  Nope - that didn't even make it to the page.  Dallas evidently wanted Rhett to herself and this was her subtle way of informing me.

We reached an impasse.  My hands hovered over the keyboard.  Was I going to give in or try to ignore her attempts to thwart my genius by removing the backspace and delete buttons? 

Must be time to go back to The San Francisco Wedding Planner.

4,000 Crosses

Being an active participant in the pro-life movement and involved in post-abortion healing, I attend many events throughout the year, but nothing prepared me for what I experienced this past weekend.

I was a little sad, not attending the West Coast Walk for Life in San Francisco, as I had in previous years, but circumstances preventing me from doing so.  Instead, my husband and I attended another walk, in the small town of Hemet, about an hour away from our home.  The number of people participating was remarkable, and I truly believe God meant me to be there because of what happened at the end of the walk.  In a large field, on the side of a Lutheran church, the walkers raised 4,000 crosses, signifying the number of babies lost from abortion each day. 

I've always been aware of the statistics but hearing the number 4,000 and seeing it, is totally different. The sight overwhelmed me.  Each cross was a future taken away due to a woman falling prey to pro-choice rhetoric ...  it's an easy way out, it's not a baby - just tissue, it's a simple procedure, it's your body - your choice. Abortion clinic staff fail to advise women of physical, psychological or spiritual consequences nor do they discuss other options such as going to a crisis pregnancy center. Why?  They would lose the fee for services. They purport abortion as medical care, but it's not.  It's a business, making millions at the expense of innocent lives.

I understand the fear involved with an unplanned pregnancy, and I too believed the lies and suffered the consequences as all post-abortive women do and will.  My "choice" caused severe psychological and spiritual issues, carrying the grief and regret of rejecting the opportunity to carry my children to term and be their mother, as God intended. I also denied a man the opportunity to be a father, my parents to be grandparents, my son to be a brother and my sister to be an aunt. 

My eyes filled with tears, and my heart broke seeing those crosses, especially when my husband and I raised two of them in memory of my little ones.  I know God wanted me to be in Hemet, to show me what we in the pro-life movement are working towards ... the day when there will be no more crosses in that field.
 

Raising a cross for my angels.

RELAX!

Last year I was a lean, mean (well, maybe not "lean") writing machine.  I worked on several projects at one time and pulled many all-nighters, resulting in several works published with positive reviews.  Great, huh?  Well ...

For some reason, with two current works in progress and four in the wings, the past month and a half found me dragging my feet (or fingers). I used every distraction available to avoid writing.  It had become a chore, and that petrified me.  Not only did I lose my enthusiasm for writing, but for everything else as well. I was going through the motions ...  my heart wasn't along for the ride. Was I going crazy?  Having a breakdown?

Nah, that wasn't it at all.  My mind and body (subtle hints from God) were telling me to rest.  Although pleased with what I had accomplished, the pace was not healthy. I was burning an odd-shaped candle at multiple ends ... with family responsibilities, ministries, marketing, social media, and writing sporadically throughout the day then well into the wee hours of the morning.  I became mentally and physically exhausted, thus causing me to flat-out shut down.  I also ended up with a virus that hung around for almost four weeks because of a weakened immune system.

The crisis is over, thank God.  The experience taught me the importance of pacing myself in all aspects of my life, setting reasonable expectations as well as taking time to just kick back without feeling guilty.

 

WORDS OF WISDOM:

A Somber Anniversary

Today is one of the most somber anniversaries in U.S. history. On January 22, 1973, abortion became legal, resulting in the deaths of over fifty-six million babies. Two of those babies were mine, and to commemorate them, I want to share the testimony I give as a member of Silent No More Awareness and a co-leader of Rachel's Hope Healing Retreats:

My name is Patti Smith from Vista, California.  I am the mother of Sarah and Matthew ... two innocent angels I thoughtlessly swept from my life by yielding to pressure from family and friends and believing the rhetoric of the pro-choice community.

Both abortion experiences were the same. I recall them like they were yesterday and they were over 30-years ago. The clinics were cold and sterile. The staff did not provide any type of comfort or assurance. It was like I was there to have a splinter removed, nothing of any consequence. The sound of the vacuum still echoes in my ears. I distinctly recall the tugging, that at the time seemed to last forever. It was as if something was trying to hold on. There was something trying to hold on, hold on for dear life; Matthew and Sarah. When I left the clinic both times instead of feeling relief, I felt empty like I had left something behind, which I did; Matthew and Sarah.

I was never a Pollyanna, but after the first abortion my promiscuity escalated as did my drinking. I was hell-bent on self destruction. After the second abortion, my life went completely out of control. I lost so very much during those days, including the love and respect of my family, friends and co-workers, but most importantly the love and respect of myself. I also purposely lost the ability to have a child as I convinced a doctor at the age of thirty to have tubal ligation. I didn’t know at the time, but I realized later I was punishing myself for the abortions. I felt unworthy and unsuitable to be a mother.

Seventeen years ago I finally reached the point where I could no longer stand to look in the mirror, because of how far down the abyss of depravity I had gone. That brought me to believe suicide was the only option. God had other plans and I was admitted to a psychiatric hospital and then to rehab. Although successful in maintaining my sobriety, my soul was still heavy and I didn’t know why.

A few years ago I attended a church seminar and heard a woman sharing about her abortion experience and how it affected her. She spoke about Post Abortion Healing Retreats and I immediately knew that’s where I needed to be. God spoke to me through her that day. The woman God so graciously used just happened to be Leslie Brunolli, San Diego’s Silent No More co-coordinator. I attended a retreat shortly thereafter, which started me on a wonderful journey of healing and forgiveness.

I learned the guilt, shame and self-hatred I carried for so many years were buried deep within my soul. My way of keeping it buried was drinking and promiscuity. I numbed feelings with booze and slept around for what I thought at the time was love and acceptance. That retreat put together the pieces of my broken heart and provided me a way to ask for and receive forgiveness, not only from God, but from Sarah, Matthew and myself.   

I will continue to work with my sisters and brothers in healing to expose the lies perpetuated by the pro-abort/pro-choice community and help those suffering from the disastrous effects of abortion. Abortion takes the life of an innocent child and darkens the soul of the mother and all involved. It brings nothing but pain, shame and regret, and distances them from a loving and merciful God. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zrz4o3pgnBc

 

Whispers from Heaven

REFLECTIONS FROM THE WEEKEND

My husband and I ventured to Los Angeles on Saturday to attend its first pro-life walk, "One-Life LA", take some time for ourselves afterwards to see some sights and use the next day to kick back and watch the NFC Championship in our hotel room.  (I couldn't miss watching my Seahawks!).



One-Life LA was awe-inspiring.  For a first-time event, the crowd number was remarkable.  Over 10,000 people showed and my heart overflowed with joy seeing the number of young people in attendance.  Archbishop Gomez opened the event, and the speeches and testimonies were inspiring and heartwarming.  It is so important to spread the message that life should be protected, respected and cherished from conception until natural death. 






During these events, I carry my Silent No More Sign as well as a t-shirt that says, "I Regret My Abortion".  The number of women that approach me and whisper in my ear, "I do too," or others telling me they know of someone that is suffering, never ceases to amaze me.  God always provides opportunities to share hope and provide resources for healing. 





The following day, prior to the NFC Championship Game, we went to Mass at the Cathedral that was presided by His Excellency Archbishop Gomez.  What a blessing to be able to chat with him afterwards for a few moments about the success of the prior day's walk.

 

We all know how the NFC Championship ended, but it was a nail-biter for sure.  During half-time, my husband and I decided to take a drive and listen to the game on the radio.  To be honest, I was a little frustrated with my team and needed distraction.  By the time we reached the Santa Monica pier, I heard about the fake punt, on-side kick, and overtime win.  Lesson learned:  Never give up!  Instead of seeing those remarkable plays as they came, I was relegated to watch them in re-runs....not quite the same is it? 




At least we had a nice dinner and watched a beautiful Southern California sunset from the restaurant's window. 








All in all, it was a terrific weekend.  A celebration of life, faith, football and enjoying some much-needed quality time as a couple.  God is Good!