A Grandmother's Poem (On Abortion)

When my daughter was only one and a half years old we had a very nice Pentecostal lady look after her for the few hours a week that my wife was at work. Those two got along admirably and it was a very pleasant experience for all of us.

That was over twenty five years ago and just recently we received a note from this woman, who is now mother of 10 and grandmother of 21, saying how special our daughter had been to her over the years when she cared for her. Of all the children she had taken in, our daughter seemed to have left the most lasting impression and memories.

My wife and I were surprised to hear that little, well kept secret but we were even more surprised when this woman's note included two of her poems. We didn't know that she wrote poetry but we knew that she was a devout Christian, a woman of God, and a lover of children. Nor did we know her heart ached for unborn children whose lives were being snuffed out by abortion.

Until we read one of her poems.


No one cuddled me like mothers do
Or saw me smile and hear me coo
Nobody counted my fingers and toes
Or gave me the name that God only knows
I never made those toddler steps
Or joyfully chased my little pets
I’m here like an angel wanting to fly
Waiting to see the bright blue sky
Just waiting each day to be per—fected
But this is not what I expected
With hands like ice and heart of stone
They’re forcing me out of my comfort zone
No guilt or fear or conscience gnawed
They’ve just destroyed the image of God.