NOTE: Commentary is made as a private citizen and not as Regional Coordinator for Silent No More or Leader of Rachel's Hope, unless otherwise stated.

Friday, December 15, 2017

The Gift: A Christmas Memory

My writing time spans from around midnight to five o’clock in the morning.  Some nights either I just don’t have the right words or the drive (shame on me) but stay up anyway watching television or reading.  Last night was like that.  While reading and listening to the television (multi-tasking?), I glanced at the tiny Christmas tree in our window, and thoughts drifted to my mom.  I wondered what she would think of it.  Growing up we always had Christmas trees, and she was the foreman of the decorating team.  She knew exactly where each and every ornament would hang, how much tinsel on each bough, and insisted same colored lights were not close to each other.  Needless to say, thanks to her “eye,” we had a masterpiece every year.  (Except for the one year we tried an aluminum one – never again!)

My mind then wandered to one of our Christmases overseas.  We were living in Casablanca, Morocco on an Air Force Base.  I was in the third grade and of course, not old enough to go Christmas shopping on my own.  Dad planned on taking my sister and me, but I was impatient.  The route home from school went through military housing.  On the way home one afternoon it was trash collection day, and one of the cans along the way happened not to have a lid.  I peeked in and, lo and behold, discovered an ash tray.  If I recall correctly, it was round with green paint and gold specks. I looked around to make sure no one was watching, reached in, grabbed it and put it in my lunch box.  Mom will love this!  I thought.  When I arrived home, I hid it under my mattress until I could sneak into the bathroom and make it look new.  I washed that darned ash tray about a gazillion times until the paint shined and specks shimmered, all the while oblivious to the fact there was a crack on the unpainted bottom.  I excitedly told my dad I didn’t need to shop for mom, that I already had her gift and told him what I had done.  All he said was, “That’s a really nice gift.”

Christmas morning took forever to come.  I sat, anxiously waiting for my mom to rip through a mound of paper and tape that could have wrapped a battleship (I still use too much.)  She looked down at the ashtray, gently turned it over then turned it back.  She rubbed her hand against the sparkly green surface and smiled.  She said it was beautiful and would cherish it forever, and gave me a great big hug.  My heart jumped with joy, knowing I made her happy.  I was confident she never suspected it was used or found in a trash can. That secret was between dad and me. 

I think that was one of my favorite Christmas memories, especially upon finding out she was aware of the origin of the gift shortly after she opened it.  She saw the crack on the bottom and mentioned it to my dad when I was out of earshot, and he told her what had transpired.  It didn't matter to her ... she proudly displayed that ashtray for years.   She never said anything to me until I was an adult.  

Thinking about that Christmas brought me to tears, not just because this is one more Christmas without her, but the fact she loved me so much. Not only did she ignore the source of that green and gold ashtray, but she also forgave the source of her pain in later years when I took a detour to the darker side of life.  I was in a garbage can too, but God in His mercy, pulled me out - and He, along with mom and dad, helped me wash off and shine as if brand new.

Monday, December 4, 2017

By Mary Saying "Yes"

Saint John Damascene tells us, ““The day of the Nativity of the Mother of God is a day of universal joy because, through the Mother of God, the entire human race was renewed, and the sorrow of the first mother, Eve, was transformed into joy.”

As Christmas approaches, my heart overflows with gratitude towards the Blessed Mother because:
By Her saying, "Yes," we have a Savior ~
By Her saying, "Yes," we have direction ~
By Her saying, "Yes," we know how to live righteously ~
By Her saying, "Yes," we have hope ~
By Her saying, "Yes," we are loved unconditionally ~
By Her saying, "Yes," we are never alone ~
By Her saying, "Yes," we can look forward to eternal life.

Sadly, there are many women and men who find the Christmas season difficult because they said “No” when finding themselves faced with an unexpected pregnancy. 

I used to experience a deep sadness at Christmastime because it was the biggest reminder of how I failed God, my children as well as myself.  I thought of my babies every time I saw baby Jesus in the manger or in the arms of the Blessed Mother.  The regret was paralyzing.

If it hadn’t been for an after-abortion healing program, I would have continued to find myself saddened when viewing a nativity scene or images of the Blessed Mother with Baby Jesus and still considered myself a failure in God's eyes.  I now fully embrace Christmastime, in fact, I have a collection of nativity scenes and have statues of the Holy Family and the Blessed Mother with Baby Jesus on my fireplace. 

Through healing, I came to understand that because of Mary’s “Yes,” redemption for what I considered an unforgiveable act was there for the asking.  And because of God's loving mercy, and Mary’s inspiration of faith and courage, I am able to speak out in an attempt to prevent others from saying, “No.” 

 “…for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, being justified as a gift by His grace through the redemption which is in Christ Jesus” …
Romans 3:23-24

If you are struggling with your decision to abort, please visit Rachel's Hope Healing Ministry in San Diego or the Silent No More Awareness Campaign  for healing resources in other locations,  including internationally. 

You are not alone.

Friday, November 10, 2017

7 Important Things to Understand About Your Depressed Loved One

I am honored and blessed to have Dr. Michelle Bengtson as a special guest blogger today.  As one who has dealt with depression for decades, her encouraging insights are invaluable. 
(Excerpt from "Hope Prevails - Insights from a Doctor's Personal
Journey through Depression")

I couldn’t look him in the eye, so instead I stared icily out the car window as we sat in our vehicle in the middle of a grocery store parking lot.  Looking back, I know this took him by surprise. Of course it did—it took me by surprise. I helped people with depression find help, hope, and healing. Now somehow I found myself in their shoes. I was the doctor with all the alphabet soup after my name. Even I wasn’t immune.

“Honey, I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to do to help…” my husband responded upon hearing my desperate condition.  I didn’t know either, and perhaps that was the worst part of all. It left me feeling scared, helpless, and hopeless.

If my life was going to be this painful and bleak, I wasn’t sure I wanted to continue enduring more of the same, and I told him so. He was scared, as was I. I just wanted someone to wrap me in their arms, hold me tight, never let go, and tell me everything was going to be all right, and for that to be the truth. He just wanted me to promise him that I was going to be all right, and yet I could make no such promises.


Depression.  It cuts to the core and shatters lives. Yet it can’t be seen from the outside and it’s often misunderstood.  Trying to adequately describe depression to someone else who has never had the misfortune to suffer its torment, is like trying to describe a circus to a blind person. And yet, when we suffer in depression’s darkness, we rely on the love and compassion of friends and family to help traverse to the other side—the very ones who, although they try, may not understand.

As a friend, a loved one, a supporter of one who is depressed, I know you want to say the right thing or do the right thing, while you are likely afraid of saying or doing something wrong and making matters worse.   I offer you some encouragement in this regard, from someone who understands because I have over 25 years of clinical experience as a neuropsychologist, but also as someone who suffered and knows how it feels.

 Recognize that depression is a medical condition. It’s classified as a “mental illness” because it is impacted by the neurotransmitters in the brain, but the brain is an organ just like the heart or the lungs. As such, someone suffering with depression can’t just “snap out of it” or “think positively” any more than they could “snap out of it” or “think positively” to cure their diabetes or epilepsy.

Understand that while depression is a mental illness that affects our emotions, it has physical consequences as well. When most people think about depression, they think about someone with a sad mood, who cries, and perhaps stays in bed too much. But depression can impact a person physically too. It brings with it considerable fatigue, decreased energy, concentration difficulty, sleep and appetite changes, and sometimes even aches and pains. Little things like taking a shower or brushing teeth can feel like weighty, monumental tasks. Please adjust your expectations accordingly.

Acknowledge that depression doesn’t fall along the normal continuum of emotions—it is outside the realm of what would be considered normal for the situation. It isn’t a case of the Sunday night blues, or reasonable frustration when things don’t go as planned. It’s far more serious—that’s why it’s categorized as an “illness.” As such, your loved one can’t be expected to “feel better in the morning.” It can take weeks or months or years to overcome, especially without adequate treatment.

Accept that nobody chooses to be depressed—it is a painful, debilitating condition. Yet sometimes the treatment to get well invokes fear in those who suffer. Research has shown that sometimes, we are motivated by fear to stay in our known misery rather than face the misery of the unknown—regardless of how good the ultimate outcome might be.

Realize success is irrelevant—as tempting as it might be, let me suggest you resist the urge to try to encourage your loved one to think about all their successes and accomplishments to date, and be grateful for them. At any other time, I believe gratitude is a very important character trait. But when someone is depressed, encouraging them to remember “how good they have it” or “how far they’ve come” does nothing to minimize the suffocating pain they feel. I can almost guarantee they’d trade those successes in for a guaranteed life of peace and joy in a heartbeat.

Appreciate that comparison is the thief of joy—in your attempt to try to encourage and motivate your depressed loved one, please don’t compare their situation to how much worse someone else is suffering. It won’t make your loved one feel any better about their situation, nor will it lessen their darkness. It will only induce guilt and prompt frustration and anger, further intensifying the magnitude of their despair when they are now convinced you don’t understand or empathize with their pain.

 Accept we just need to be heard. Depression can feel lonely and isolating, and even a bit frightening. While you might be worrying about having the right thing to say, we just want the opportunity to be together, to share, and to be heard without needing you to say anything or try to fix it. We don’t want to be anyone’s project. Sometimes we just need to be validated that we are still cared about and found worthy even when we don’t feel it.

When a loved one is navigating the pain of depression, your presence means more than perfect words. The gift of your presence lends strength when they feel weak. It offers togetherness and community when they feel scared and alone. It provides acceptance when they feel worthless and rejected.

Don’t search for the perfect words. Just be a sustaining presence and you will be remembered for your role in the journey to the other side of the dark valley.

For a Free eBook on How to Help a Depressed Loved One, click here:

For more helpful information about what you need to know when you have a depressed loved one, read here:

For more about what not to say to a depressed loved one, read here: while here are suggestions about supportive things you can say to a depressed loved one:

Dr. Michelle Bengtson (PhD, Nova Southeastern University) is an international speaker, and the author of best-selling “Hope Prevails: Insights From a Doctor’s Personal Journey Through Depression” and the newly released companion “Hope Prevails Bible Study.”  She has been a neuropsychologist for more than twenty years. She is in private practice in Southlake, Texas where she evaluates, diagnoses, and treats children and adults with a variety of medical and mental health disorders. She knows pain and despair firsthand and combines her professional expertise and personal experience with her faith to address issues surrounding medical and mental disorders, both for those who suffer and for those who care for them. She offers sound practical tools, affirms worth, and encourages faith. Dr. Bengtson offers hope as a key to unlock joy and relief—even in the middle of the storm. She and her husband of 30 years have two teenage sons, and reside in the Dallas/Ft. Worth area. She blogs regularly on her own site:

For more hope, stay connected with me at:
Twitter: (@DrMBengtson)

Thursday, November 2, 2017

First Responders for Life

November is the month the  Shockwaves of Abortion initiative addresses pro-life workers. 

Kevin Burke is the co-founder of Rachel's Vineyard and a pastoral associate with Priests for Life and the Silent No More Awareness Campaign.  In one of his blogs on the Silent No More website he said, “When we hear of vicarious trauma, we often think of first responders; the brave men and women who serve as firefighters, emergency medical technicians, and police officers.”  He goes on to say, “There is another Population of First Responders.  These women and men are frequently marginalized, cursed, and ridiculed as they try and protect the innocent and advocate for their lives.  They are ignored or maligned by the media, society and sadly sometimes even by their own faith communities; they are the pro-life advocates on the front lines.” 

Being on the front-lines myself, I can attest to the ridicule as well as intimidation.  I can also attest to delayed emotion after a vigil or rally.  I cannot count the times I've been sworn at, flipped off and accused of trying to humiliate and bully young women as they approach clinics.  My response is always the same, I smile and wave at the passing cars, and if confronted one-on-one by someone with a calm demeanor, I quietly listen to what he/she has to say.  Then I look him/her straight in the eye and calmly ask if they would be willing to listen to me or at least take an informational brochure.  Most walk away immediately, or they will listen until something I say probably hits close to home, then say something like, “that’s not true,” then storm off.  There are times I've been approached with so much hate and anger, it’s fruitless to even engage in dialogue.  Those times I just smile and walk away.  Paid pro-choicers greeted us at the Supreme Court in Washington, D.C. with bloodied crotches and loud, disgusting chants in an attempt to drown out our Silent No More testimonies (to no avail).

Of course, there is also the intimidation factor.  Planned Parenthood contracts out security services, and when we pro-lifers gather, our pictures are taken, and the security guards constantly talk on their radios while eying us.  Some call me by name, even though I’ve never seen them before.  I try my best to develop a positive rapport with them and offer brochures, etc., but they are ordered not to take anything from us whatsoever.    

Now I’ll address delayed emotion.  As a Regional Coordinator for Silent No More, I share my abortion experience at a variety of venues, including vigils and rallies in front of clinics.  Recalling the most horrific decision and experience in my life is like ripping a bandage off, still attached to the scab.   By the time I am safely ensconced in the security of my home, the cruelness of the ridicule and intimidation added to the pain of recall pours out in a flood of tears.  It’s then I immerse myself in prayer and meditation and focus on the lives we may have touched and the faces of all those standing beside me on the front lines … People like me who offer nothing but love, compassion and hope to the women considering abortion as well as already victimized.  I remember the many “thumbs up” and honks from other cars driving by and most importantly the days we see young women decide not to enter death’s door.  

Will it all get too overwhelming?  Will I eventually give up?  Absolutely not.  No amount of cruelty or intimidation will stop me from speaking the truth.  No amount of cruelty or intimidation will stop me from doing all I can to save a precious child from the grips of death.  No amount of cruelty or intimidation will stop me from preventing others from experiencing the physical, spiritual and emotional devastation abortion brings to all involved.  And no matter how many tears I shed when I get home from the "front,"  I wipe them away with the healing love, mercy, and forgiveness received from God and my children and with the love and support from the other “first responders.” 

Thursday, October 12, 2017


Advertisements for Halloween costumes are all over the place right now, and ... uh, oh ... it got me thinking. We all wear masks from time to time; we have to.  There are situations where our true feelings or reactions would not be socially acceptable or, in the worse case scenario ... even illegal.  
What we need to realize is there is one mask we wear that can interfere with our lives:  A false persona created due to the misguided notion of not being good enough.  That notion subsequently prevents us from forming a genuine relationship with God and others.

God doesn't make mistakes.  We need to trust Him.  Remember, He created each one of us in His image. We need to embrace who we are; establish an honest relationship with ourselves.  Then, and only then, can we form a true and lasting relationship with Him and others.

You formed my inmost being;
you knit me in my mother’s womb.
I praise you because I am wonderfully made;
wonderful are your works!
My very self you know.

Psalms 139:13-14

Sunday, October 1, 2017

God Didn't Want Me - Or So I Thought.....

Going through some boxes of pictures, one surfaced that reminded me of a canceled baptism.

I was raised in a Christian home, but my parents did not have me baptized as a child; they believed it should be my decision later on as to what faith I wanted to follow. I never thought much about it in my younger years, and in my "demon days," God was not even part of my vocabulary ... unless I was using His name in vain.  Anyway, I was too interested in partying and doing my own thing.

In 1977,  my parents and sister were attending a Methodist church in my home town, and my sister decided to get baptized.  I was twenty-four and living on the other side of the state, but they wanted it to be a family affair.  They asked me to join my sister ... secretly hoping it might somehow change my evil ways.

Figuring this might be a way to get my parents "off my back," I reluctantly packed my bags and took the three-hour trip on a Friday night. The baptism was not until Sunday, so I had all day Saturday to do whatever I wanted.  I decided to attend an intramural baseball game sponsored by my previous employer, which gave me a chance to catch up with old friends.  I was busy chatting during the game, and all of a sudden my ears started ringing and people screamed. I saw blood flowing, and I thought I had a nosebleed. The bat had slipped out of the batter's hand, into the bleachers and onto my forehead.  It did not knock me out (hard headed aren't I?) but my skull was fractured in four places, I had a subdural hematoma and needed twenty-eight stitches across my forehead.  My parents were told not to get their hopes up for me making it through the night, and that if I did make it, there was no guarantee of a full recovery. While they were stitching me up, mom and dad were at my bedside. Remembering the upcoming baptism, I looked at both of them and said, "See, God does not want me."

I believed that statement for years after the accident, and it was not until I sobered up and started on my wonderful faith journey that I realized how wrong I was.  I was too self-absorbed back then to see that He did want me. Otherwise, I would not have survived the accident, let alone my wanton lifestyle, and I would not have learned the valuable lessons still ahead of me.

I consider the accident a blessing in disguise. Although God did want me, I did not want Him. The baptism would have been a farce; just something to make my family happy. I would have entered the water with a closed heart and mind then get in my car and return to my self-destructive ways. I would not have appreciated the significance of the sacrament, in fact, I would have forgotten about it the next day.

It took a few more years of lessons learned, but in 2006 I was baptized in the Catholic church. Not only did I appreciate the significance, I entered the water with an open heart and mind, I felt His presence, heard His invitation and joyfully welcomed Him into my life.

Habakkuk 2:3

 For the vision is a witness for the appointed time,

a testimony to the end; it will not disappoint.

If it delays, wait for it,

it will surely come, it will not be late.

Two days after the accident.
My baptism in 2006. 

Thursday, September 28, 2017


Janet Thompson takes the mystery out of mentoring in her new book Mentoring For All Seasons. I was honored to be part of this inspirational project as I discuss after-abortion healing as a recipient and provider.

Enjoy this special introduction from Janet…

I grew up in Southern California where, with few seasonal exceptions, the weather was consistent year round—sunny and beautiful. Sunny and hot with morning fog near the beach in summer. Sunny and warm with occasional Santana winds in the fall. Sunny with a few storms, rain, and overcast days in the winter, when the temperatures might dip into the 60’s. Sunny and colorful in the spring. Those were our seasons.

Then we moved to Idaho where we have four extremely distinct and different seasons, each one lasting about three months, except last winter’s snow went from November until a few snow days in April! The biggest difference I’ve noticed about the four climate “seasons,” is that the year seems to fly by in Idaho!

During that heavy snow winter, everyone could hardly wait until it was summer. Then when summer brought high temperatures and smoke from forest fires, everyone could hardly wait for fall. Now that fall has finally arrived, in just a few months we’ll be right back into winter snow again.

We’re continually coming out of one season and going into the next completely different season—a great metaphor for our life seasons. Many of you have experienced the blessing of having a mentor in the changing seasons of your life, or long for a mentor to help you through a new life season. That’s when those with experience in a life season can reach out and offer counsel, support, prayer, and God’s wisdom to a woman in a season we’ve experienced. Mentoring is that easy.

When we moved to Idaho from Southern California, we had never lived in the rural mountains year round. We had a lot to learn and there was always someone willing to mentor us; all we had to do was ask and be receptive to what they had learned from living here. Now that we’re a bit “seasoned,” we can help others moving here too.

One group of friends call themselves “Seasoned Veterans of the Word,” and they’re anxious to learn more about mentoring. Author and speaker Pam Farrel has several stories in this book where she tells of forming a group of “Seasoned Sisters” to prepare for menopause and midlife together, a season I’ve definitely included in Mentoring for All Seasons.

So that’s my challenge, let’s look for those God puts in our path and share what we’ve learned from our experiences and how God and His Word helped us and will help them too in whatever life season they’re going through now. And if you’re going through a difficult life season or are new in your faith, ask God to help you find a mentor. Mentoring for All Seasons encourages women to intentionally share their life experiences and God’s faithfulness. I’m not just talking about women; we need to mentor our tweens and teens too!

You may encounter a woman in a season you haven’t experienced. Mentees come from all walks and seasons of life, ages, and spiritual maturity. Even if a mentor doesn’t share the exact life experience of her mentee, the mentor can provide spiritual guidance, do research, and pray about how to address the specific issues her mentee is encountering. Some mentees might even be seekers or brand new believers who need to know how to live as Christian women today.
In Mentoring for All Seasons, sixty-five women share their mentor or mentee testimonies, along with my own personal experiences, helpful tips, and suggestions will guide women in how to connect and nurture each other through mentoring relationships, as a mentor or a mentee from tweens to twilight years. There are Scriptures for each season to help guide the discussion to God’s Word. Mentors don’t have all the answers, but God does!

Mentoring for all Seasons is a reference, application, and coaching tool for a mentor or mentee as they traverse life’s journey together. I pray for Holy Spirit inspiration for some women to become Titus 2:3-5 women.
"Likewise, teach the older women to be reverent in the way they live, not to be slanderers or addicted to much wine, but to teach what is good. Then they can urge the younger women to love their husbands and children, to be self-controlled and pure, to be busy at home, to be kind, and to be subject to their husbands, so that no one will malign the word of God.”
Throughout our lifetime, we vacillate between being a mentor and needing a mentor, depending on the season of life. I pray whatever season you’re in today, there’s someone walking beside you, and you’re walking beside someone who needs you in her season of life.

Bio: Janet Thompson is an international speaker, freelance editor, and award-winning author of nineteen books including her latest, Mentoring for All Seasons: Sharing Life Experiences and God’s Faithfulness.
She is also the founder of Woman to Woman Mentoring and About His Work Ministries. Janet and her husband Dave relocated their empty nest from Orange County, California to the rural mountains of Idaho, where Janet writes and they love watching the deer frolic in their yard.
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