ABORTION VERSUS GUNS

ABORTION VERSUS GUNS

January 10, 2013

Legal, yes and no?

Legal, yes and no?

     It’s 2013, another year in my life and yours.  But there are some 330,000 or more tiny little human beings who already can’t, or by the end of 2013, won’t be able to say that.

     With all the talk about guns, this week a vice-presidential led committee to find a way to control guns in our nation, and with very little talk about mental health and other issues that plague our people and lead to mass murders, I think it might be helpful to start at the beginning.

Genesis 2:7  And the Lord God formed man of the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and man became a living soul.

Genesis 2:22  And the rib, which the Lord God had taken from man, made he a woman, and brought her unto the man.

One man, one woman and they had children. 

Genesis 1:28  And God blessed them, and God said unto them, Be fruitful, and multiply, and replenish the earth, . . .

Matthew 18:1-6   At that time the disciples came to Jesus, saying, “Who then is greatest in the kingdom of heaven?”  2 Then Jesus called a little child to Him, set him in the midst of them, 3 and said, “Assuredly, I say to you, unless you are converted and become as little children, you will by no means enter the kingdom of heaven. 4 Therefore whoever humbles himself as this little child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. 5 Whoever receives one little child like this in My name receives Me.      6 “Whoever causes one of these little ones who believe in Me to sin, it would be better for him if a millstone were hung around his neck, and he were drowned in the depth of the sea. 7 Woe to the world because of offenses! For offenses must come, but woe to that man by whom the offense comes!”

Okay, GUNS versus ABORTIONS

GUNS:

Stats for 2009:  All firearm deaths  (latest update I could find, 2009)

http://www.cdc.gov/nchs/fastats/injury.htm

Number of deaths: 31,347

Deaths per 100,000 population: 10.2

ABORTIONS:

Stats for 2011

http://www.plannedparenthood.org/files/PPFA/PP_Services.pdf
Abortion Procedures:   329,445

Did you get that?

Guns                        31,347 

Abortions               329,445  (Oh, and that’s just the ones we know about?)

I mean, Did you GET IT?

Let’s start over:

THAT IS A BABY!  That is a living soul according to God. 

Psalm 139:13  For You formed my inward parts; You covered me in my mother’s womb.

Jeremiah 1:5  “Before I formed you in the womb I knew you; Before you were born I sanctified you; I ordained you a prophet to the nations.”

Yeah, that is a baby in a womb!

* * * * * * * * *  * * * *  *  * * * 

But this is a baby in the amniotic sac laying in a gloved hand.

And this is how it got there. . . 

Why don’t we call this murder?

Why don’t we call this 

a 

victim?

     I was an unplanned child.  In 1946, it was not cool to be an unwed pregnant woman.  Living at home with her mother, my Mom made a decision to keep me.  My biological father died about three months before her due date.  She could have had a third trimester abortion.  I don’t know if that even, ever, entered her mind.  I doubt it.  She didn’t talk about that.  She just said that she wanted me, she loved me.  I thank God always for her loving me, keeping me, being so much a part of who I am today. 

     Because of this, I’ve always had a special place in my heart for the Baptist Children’s Home at Carmi, Illinois.  Because, she could have aborted me, but she didn’t.  She, also, could have given me up for adoption.  That might/could have worked out okay, but she didn’t.  She kept me.  (AND that worked out best for me.)

     There is an alternative to abortion.  It’s called Life.  If you know an unwed pregnant mother, please let her know she has several choices.  Please, let her know about ANGEL’S COVE, a Baptist Children’s Home & Family Services agency in Mt. Vernon, IL.

http://bchfs.com/angelscove.html

 * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

Now about the guns thing:

When do we realize that it is people who kill and if they don’t have guns, they will find another way?

When do we stop showing and telling our children that it’s okay to abort (kill) an unborn human child but not okay to kill one that’s been born?

When do we stop letting our kids play video games that reward their ego with kill points and relieve their stresses and have fun by killing?

When do we stop giving Oscars for movies about death, and the smartest criminal and the one that got away legally?

When do we put one man and one woman back into the definition of family?

When do we start asking God back into our nation, instead of passing man’s laws that keep His laws out?

W h e n  ?

Copyright – 2013 – Doris Grant Frey

DECEMBER 31, 2012

IT WAS A VERY GOOD YEAR!

It’s hard to wrap up twelve months, three hundred sixty five days in a bunch of words.  As I sit here at James Court, I watch the snowbirds through my patio doors.  They’ve made a royal mess on the patio.  But, hey, the snow is melting.  And the birdfeeder is still half full.  And the hose will clean up this mess, come the next (warmer) sunny day or Spring, whichever comes first.

I’ve decided it’s easier to write the blog if I just write it for myself.  Those who love me and want to read it will like it anyway.  So for 2013 my goal will be to write for me.  When I’m 90 (hopefully), I’ll have it to help me remember these passing days.

Some of the best things I remember in 2012:

                                              Spending more time with an old friend, Cheryl.

 

SPRING:

Taking  two adult education courses, How To Write A Book In Four Weeks and How to Get Your Book Published, at Morthland University.  Getting to know other aspiring writers and Dr. Randy Carney.  Enjoying having a prayer at the beginning of each class.  Yes, prayer in school!

Monthly get together with the Girls of ’63.  (Served as treasurer for six months)

Association with the Women of Compassion,

visits to Baptist Children’s Home & Family Services

at Carmi and Angel’s Cove at Mt. Vernon. 

Friendship with Rhiannon.

 

Association with Herrin City Library, the History Research Team, projects on The Herrin Massacre and Thatchcot at Christmas.  Compiling the Trovillion bibliography.  Especially working with Lisa.  Our field trip to the Herrin City Cemetery, the Morris Library at SIU.

 

          Membership in Herrin Area Historical Society, various presentations, interesting speakers and authors.  Membership in Williamson County Historical Society, visiting the old city jail site in Marion, friendship with Helen Sutt Lind.

MARCH: 

            The annual Ladies Day Seminar at Whiteash Freewill Baptist.

Seeing Emma’s dance recital at Rend Lake College Theater. 

Always refreshing to be around the younger generation.

APRIL:

Planning and accomplishing an anniversary dinner for Rich and Barb. 

(I really wasn’t sure I could do it, but I DID !! )

Graduating top of the class for range of motion and rehabilitation

after right shoulder replacement per Dr. J. T. Davis.  (He’s so cute.)

 

 

MAY:

Celebrating Memorial Day, Gary’s flag to Fountain Cemetery,

doing flowers for Gary and Mom and the Grants at Johnston City.

 

HerrinFesta 2012.  Had a very interesting day. 
See the blog notes, also a story.

 

 

JUNE:          A normal mammogram.  Six year survivor

breast cancer.  Thank you, Lord Jesus!

 

 

Did a genealogy class for Perry, Marci’s son, who is home schooled.  Also, showed him what an antique computer looks like, old Epson 286, dos text driven, no mouse, no windows and a dot matrix printer.  He was truly unbelieving such a thing exists/ed.  Ha, this younger generation, what they don’t know about old technology won’t hurt them a bit.

JULY:  

                     Uh Oh, moving again.  Just one block over to James Court.  More Space.  A sewing room space AND an office/library/music room space.  Yayyyy!!!  

Family reunion, 37 in attendance, really nice day at Johnston City Scout Cabin.  And yes, we did have toe sack races.  Two family reunions, great seeing those who are able to come.  Such fun tracking down the rest of my family, descendants of Herbert and Mamie Sanders Grant and compiling the family tree.  Ideas, interviews and important stuff for the book which will be done in 2013.

 

 

 

Honored to play the piano for friend Sara’s wedding in Royalton.

AUGUST:

                Still struggling with lower back pain, new Doc, Dr. Newell, scans and nerve ablation done end of month.  Still hoping for relief and better activity, endurance time.

SEPTEMBER:

Afternoon visit from Gregg and Terry on their way from Florida to central Illinois.  So good to be with old friends, old memories, fun times and almost just like yesterday.

OCTOBER:

Having a Halloween party (Lunch) with senior ladies.  Been a while since I’d even been to a Halloween party.

 

 

Trick or Treat, decorated w Mr. Bones and had some very neat

trick or treaters at my doorway.

NOVEMBER: 

                For several months I had wondered and tried every think I could think of to figure out how to see Celtic Thunder at the Fox in St. Louis on Nov. 8.  I called American Classic Tours and suggested they do a St. Louis day tour and the concert.  No go.  I was down to considering BART or even a private driver for pay, or a private limousine to get there.  Then it all fell in place one day when I ran into and old friend and neighbor, Lynn, at Sunday lunch at the Villa La Rosa in Herrin.  Just so happens that Lynn and granddaughter  Brittany are HUGE Celtic Thunder fans.  Yep, you guessed it.  We went.  We had a ball.  Long live good looking Irish men who sing like, like, like, well, the best I ever heard.  Yeah!

Seeing Tom Kilpatrick again, attending his 75^th birthday party at C’dale.  Neat to see his slide show of his life, accomplishments and many travels around the world.

The Thanksgiving Community Service at Lone Oak.  Br. Todd Hawk touched my heart in a special way with his sermon.
 

DECEMBER:

                Playing organ at New Horizon’s General Baptist Church in Marion.  Getting to know Br. Kermit and Shelly and family.  Getting to know Br. Rick and Tracy.  Working with Melissa for the New Horizon’s Block Party and the kids Christmas program.

 

 

Getting to read my poem, “The Wishbook Doll’ at the HAHS Christmas function.  So neat to get such positive reactions to an account of a Christmas from my childhood.
 

Being a part of my cousin Elaine’s family in Mcleansboro, love the kids, all of them. 

Got to spend an evening for Christmas with them. 

Got my first home made hand book done on “Grandfathers”

and was able to give them to John and Julie for Christmas. 

Special moment for me, watching them read my first completed hand books.



 

As always 4 p.m. Christmas Eve at the beautiful service at Aldersgate Methodist in Marion with Aunt Delores, the Taylor family and Pauline and her niece Pat.

 

Being made to feel like family, always, at the Trills in Fudgetown.  Christmas Eve with Lawrence, Clara, Amanda, Preston, Traci and a special little guy named Dakota.  Hey, I got a kiss, yeah, all right!!!

 

 

 

Well, I guess that's about it.  There are some things I didn't tell here. 

I do have some secrets you know. 

And then there were some sad things that happened. 

We lost Aunt Helena and Uncle Dent. 

And we all got a year older. 

And wiser?

So, HAPPY NEW YEAR, WELCOME 2013!

Copyright - 2012 - Doris Grant Frey

 

 

THE WISHBOOK DOLL

 

 

When I was small, a baby-child,

We lived at Gramma’s house.
Just Mom and me and Gram made three
For neither had a spouse.

Now in the fall the mail would bring

The Christmas catalogue.
I’d look and look that wish book o’er
To find the perfect doll.

And then one year on page nineteen

A doll with golden tresses
And, not to mention, a travel case
Filled up with many dresses.

“Oh, Gram, Dear Gram, could Santa ever know,

How it would tickle me,
If he could leave just such a doll
Under our Christmas tree?”

And Gramma smiled, I remember now,

How she smiled down at me,

“Oh, yes, I’m sure Dear Santa knows

So we’ll just wait and see.”

I read that wish book o’er and o’er,

And every toy was seen,

And every page was frayed and torn

But none like page nineteen.

And Christmas came in “Fifty-one”

Like any other year.
But special dreams of the wishbook doll
Had filled my heart with cheer.

And when it came to Christmas Eve,

he tree was up and lit.
My Mom came home from work and said
“Okay let’s go and see it.”

Then Gramma cracked the front room door

And we peered into the room
To see that grandest sight.
It would dispel the deepest gloom.

And there in our front room
A bright and shining tree,
And underneath, a box –
One large one I could see.

Oh, did he know?  How would he know?

But Gramma said he would!
I didn’t know;  how could he know?
But Gramma said he could!

The bed was old, the room was cold

But Momma held me close
And sure enough on Christmas Eve
I soon began to doze.

And do you know on Christmas morn

She had to waken me?
And take me in the living room
And said,  “Now here, let’s see.”

“Dear Santa’s left one here for Gram,

And one for you and me,
You wake her up and tell her “Come,”
And I’ll plug in the tree.”

When we came back, the tree aglow,

Mom had the gifts all set.
I hesitated – At five I wondered,
Could Santa Dear forget?

But in my box with ribbons red

Was Gram’s old travel bag.
She’d patched with tape the well worn spots
And got a new name tag.

And in the case with my name on it

Were lovely golden tresses
On a store-bought doll with big blue eyes
And a dozen homemade dresses.

And every dress was a print I knew

That one of us would wear,
For Mom and Gramma both could sew,
Much more than mend a tear.

When I turned back to page nineteen

The wishbook doll still there,
I was stunned to see the dreamer’s doll
Had little to compare.

For my dear doll had blonder hair

And bluer eyes that closed
And all her dresses prettier
Much more than any of those.

And Gramma’s travel case was just the thing.

It even had my name.
I knew I’d never want the other
After Dear Santa came.

For Santa always knows, you see,

When Christmas wishes rise,
Why, that’s why Christmas wishbooks
Are sent for little eyes.

Now every year when it gets fall

I wait and watch the mail
And when the Christmas wishbook comes
I see what Doll’s for sale.

At thirty-six I’ve seen some dolls

And wished.  But I reckon my best guess is
That no dreamer’s doll could e’er compare,
With dimestore dear in homemade dresses.

By Doris Ann

Copyright – 2012 - Doris Grant Frey

 

 



BLESSINGS:  WALLY WORLD November 21, 2012

 

Everyday is my favorite day!

 

 

 

I’ve been accused of going to Wal-Mart every day.  That’s just not true.  I only go every day that I want to.  It seems like God always blesses me at Wal-Mart.  I don’t mean to sound sacrilegious or whatever that word is.  He also blesses me at home, at church and other places.  But it just seems to me like He always blesses me at Wal-Mart.

 

Like yesterday, I wanted to clean up on the coupons from the weekend ‘Southern’.  I had 8 am blood work at my doc’s office and a $1.49 coupon for Hardees bacon/egg biscuit.  So I got stuck and got my bandaid.  Then I headed over to Hardees. (Incidentally, I held my fork way up high, tilted my head back and slowly angled some biscuit with egg/bacon and gravy into my pursed pouty lips and let gravy drip all over and practically run down my chin and not a single one of those six 70 year old plus dudes at the next table even noticed.)  So much for getting into a Hardee’s ad!  (Don’t’ laugh, remember that cute old gal, who used to say, “Where’s the beef?”)  So I cleared out, went by home, got my shopping list and coupons and headed for Wally World.

No trip to Wal-Mart is complete without at least one or more trips through fabrics, crafts, ribbons etc.  I got stuck in the aisle by patterns and stuff and an old lady was muttering about and so I asked her, (I’ve been studying Wal-Mart Associates for 20+ years) if I could help her.  She said wasn’t it nice that Marion Wal-Mart got crafts back and I agreed.  But she’s not been able to find what she’s looking for.  So, who would be better than me, the local expert, to help.  She’s looking for fabric that’s made into books.  I think I know what she means as I have one of those stuck away in the sewing room, somewhere.  (Picked it up some eons ago at a yard sale.)  So I ask some questions and she gives the answers.  She makes fabric books for an annual flea market festival for a children’s home in Pennsylvania.  She’s originally from there, but lives in Eldorado.  She sells them for $8.00 each.  She goes there every year and takes them herself.  With a few more questions, she describes in detail how she puts the (fabric) pages together and ends up with a book.  She hasn’t found the fabric aisle yet.  She wonders if they have any.  So, I tell her fabric aisle is next one over and they are slowly getting more and more stuff.  I know because I check this “everyday” (every day that I go). 

She invites me to come with her.  And she actually finds two bolts of fabric that are indeed books.  One is actually nursery rhymes and very pretty.  It’s about $5.50 a yard.  I comment that she’s not really making much money, especially with all her work, selling at $8.00 a book.  She explains that this one is more expensive because it’s a brand name (nursery rhymes).  She usually pays less, more like $3.00 or so a yard. 

 

(Example, buy a yard, cut out the pages,

line them up back to back, page to page.  Line each page

 with a thin batting.  Sew them up wrong side out.

Leave about 3 inches open.  Turn them right side out

and hand stitch the opening.  Hook them up at the binding edge. 

One fabric book, all done.  That's how she said.)

 

We had a great time talking and sharing about our projects and stuff, important stuff.  She, also, does quilting.  I notice another younger lady and her cart just past us.  “I guess we’re blocking the aisle, I’ll scoot over this way.”  Then the younger lady says, “Oh, no, not at all, I was just listening to you.”  So we got sewing class going right there in Wal-Mart.  What fun!

(Blessings in disguise!)

 

Okay that was yesterday,

This is today.

 

                       

Well, I forgot the curly-q Day Bright light bulbs for the sewing room so I went back to Wal-Mart today.  First things first, I get the light bulbs.   It’s 1 pm the day before Thanksgiving.  I’m thinking this is definitely crazy going to Wal-Mart today.  But in the scents aisle I’m looking at candles.  A very nice young woman comes along side and notices me looking up (up from my scooter) at the top shelf.  She stops and asks if I need help, if she can reach something for me.  She is so nice.  I assure her I’m OK, can stand etc.  Then she smiles and wishes me a ‘Happy Thanksgiving’ and moves on.  I’m thinking, ‘See there, and you were expecting everyone to be in a big hurry and to be rude and obnoxious.’ 

(Some blessings are lessons in disguise.) 

Eventually, I end up in front of the fresh doughnuts case.  This is one spot I always avoid.  But today, oh well.  So I’m just sitting there looking at the apple fritters, thinking, well, just one!  He comes around the corner of the doughnut case and stops right in front of my scooter.  He’s a little guy with  brownish/blonde hair, jeans and tee shirt and the brightest clear blue eyes.  He has, absolutely, a face of pure innocence.  He looks over the scooter basket and sees a piece of flannel fabric I’m buying.  “Are you going to make that a blanket?” he asks. 

“Yes, I am,” I respond, “I love to make quilts.” 

So he looks over the rest of the stuff in my basket.  Not too much there as my scooter basket’s a lot smaller than a Wal-Mart scooter basket.  I guess nothing else interested him.  Most kids are more interested in my scooter and how it works, etc.  But not this one.  He wants to talk.

He leans back against the door to the doughnuts, sticks both hands in his pockets, frowns and says, “My Gramma’s got a crack in her arm.” 

I’m not sure where we’re going here, “Oh, you’re Gramma’s got a broken arm?”

“Yeah, her name is Shirley.”

“Okay, your Gramma Shirley?”

“Yeah, what’s your name?”

“My name is Doris.”

“Doris, my name is Logan,” he says and comes around to the side of my scooter, puts out his hand.  We shake hands.

“I’m glad to meet you, Doris.”

“Well, I’m glad to meet you too, Logan.”

He smiles and nods his head.

“Gee, I’m sorry to hear about your Gramma Shirley. How did she break her arm?  Did she fall?”

“She fell over a sawhorse.”

"Oh, was she out in the workshop?”

“No, she was in the garage, and she fell, and she had to lay there a long, long time.  She had to lay there until Grandpa came home.”

“I’m really sorry to hear that.  That must have been really hard for her.”

“Yes, and I wasn’t there.  (He stops talking, looks down, tilts his head.)  “And if I’d been there she wouldn’t have had to lay there so long.”

I’m getting really impressed with this little guy.  But this conversation is going on and on and the girls behind the counter over in the bakery are watching.  I’m thinking I’m going to get arrested someday for picking up kids (or little old women, or for blocking the aisles, or loitering) at Wal-Mart.  I’m thinking I should be moving on, but I really don’t want to, so…

“You’re thinking if you’d been there, you could have helped your Gramma, right?”

“Yes,” he says, that he could have helped her, that he wished he’d been there.

“Well, Logan, these things happen.  Sometimes there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“I know.”  (Trailing off, eyes focused at something across and beyond my left shoulder.)

Getting concerned that this precious kid could actually be off, alone, talking to a stranger, for so long and that no one has come looking for him, I venture, “Logan, does your Mom know where you are, is she looking for you?”

“No, she doesn’t know where I am.  She thinks I’m at Gramma Shirley’s right now, but I’m not.”

“I know.  You’re here at Wal-Mart.”

“Yeah, but Mom doesn’t know I’m not at Gramma Shirley’s.”

“Okay, well, is anybody else here, maybe that thinks you’re lost, or maybe that they’re looking for you?”

“That’s my Grandpa.  He’s right over there by the meat counter.”

Immensely relieved, I realize that Logan has never been out of his Grandfather’s line of vision, clearly, across my left shoulder.

“Oh, that’s good, you’re here with your Grandpa.”

     Soon, Grandpa arrives, we talk. 

              Logan’s five years old. 

                    He is one amazing little guy and a perfect gentleman. 

                            Grandpa’s proud.

                                      I am blessed!   (no disguise)

I don’t think I’ll go back to Wal-Mart until after Black Friday.

But, if I do, I am pretty sure I’ll be blessed!

Copyright - 2012 - Doris Grant Frey