My Black Heart Changed
“THIS IS WHERE THEY PERFORM THE ABORTIONS,” I said to my beautiful and precious daughters in 2011 as we drove past the innocuous looking building called Family Planning Associates located just a few miles from our home at the time. Making a quick U-turn I parked just up the street from the entrance. A solitary man looked like he was praying as he strode slowly up and down the sidewalk in front of the medical offices.
Two women exited. One was weeping as they both hurriedly walked to the parking lot. The praying man told us it’s busiest on Wednesdays and Fridays because that’s when they carry out their “surgical procedures.”
“Daddy,” my then 12-year-old DD exclaimed, “why is it called a Family Planning Clinic? Why did they name it that?”
“Because,” I gently explained, “it sounds better than advertising that it’s a place to murder your child.”
Flash backward about twenty years from that day to a Christian Singles Retreat I attended shortly after committing my life to Jesus. In the dining room a petition was passed around from table to table opposing a new abortion clinic that was just getting ready to open for business. “I can’t sign it,” I protested, “I am for abortion.”