As a family that travels for work quite a bit and are often on the road, one thing I notice is how people treat families with kids. I remember the days, not too long ago, when I would arrive at the airport forty-seven minutes before the flight was scheduled to leave. I’d drop off my luggage (with seconds to spare), zip through security, run across the airport, and make my plane just as they would call my name over the intercom.
When you think of abortion, what comes to mind? Is it tiny, fragile babies, being ripped apart, piece by piece? Does it bring to mind images of tiny fingers and toes, perhaps lying on the face of a coin? Do you think of the abortionists who have stated in interviews and debates how they would pull arms and legs off one by one, and squeeze the skull with forceps until the brain flowed out? Perhaps when you think of abortion you think of a brother or a sister, a niece or a nephew; someone you might have known, but never will know.