It is mysterious how God has made unborn children entirely dependent on their mothers and fathers for their safety and care. They dwell for nine months in a portable darkened chamber, the womb, as they receive nourishment from their mothers. They are vulnerable, subject to the whims of the adults in their lives.
How mysterious is this hidden life!
How good are mothers and fathers who protect the little flowers of their love!
However, dark clouds gathered in the last century which paved the way for legally terminating these precious flowers. Life has gone on for all of us while many unborn children have perished in willed surgical and chemical deaths. Thankfully there are adults who have fought, and continue to fight, to give a voice to unborn babies, especially in politics, as there is only one way these useless deaths will cease, and that is if Roe vs. Wade is overturned.
A century ago, when legalized abortion was just beginning to rear its ugly head, G.K. Chesterton fought against it. He had a wonderful idea: what if unborn babies could speak? Since they cannot, Chesterton gave the unborn an actual voice. In his poem, By The Babe Unborn, a baby speaks and makes a case for why he wishes to live. It is beautiful, yet heartbreaking.
Wouldn’t it be lovely (here we’re speaking wishfully) if suddenly, from out of the blue, there was one unborn child who would start speaking from the womb? The mother of this baby would take a trip to D.C., and go before the Supreme Court. A microphone would be placed near her, and from the deep recesses of that mysterious chamber of life, we would hear:
If trees were tall and grasses short,
As in some crazy tale,
If here and there a sea were blue
Beyond the breaking pale,
If a fixed fire hung in the air
To warm me one day through,
If deep green hair grew on great hills,
I know what I should do.
In dark I lie; dreaming that there
Are great eyes cold or kind,
And twisted streets and silent doors,
And living men behind.
Let storm clouds come: better an hour,
And leave to weep and fight,
Than all the ages I have ruled
The empires of the night.
I think that if they gave me leave
Within the world to stand,
I would be good through all the day
I spent in fairyland.
They should not hear a word from me
Of selfishness or scorn,
If only I could find the door,
If only I were born.*
There would follow a long silence.
I would like to think that the Supreme Court would meet again the next day, and put an end to the industry, yes, it is a cash-making industry, of abortion, but money speaks, and the little voice might have to make several trips to the capital to get the hideous tide to turn in his favor.
But if it would turn, it would seem a new day of hope and life would have swept across our country. We would be protectors of the smallest. It would be beautiful.
May God bless our country, and help us to remember the smallest among us, those who have no voice, each and every flowering bud of life, each and every unborn babe.
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*By The Babe Unborn by G.K. Chesterton
