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I saw this today and I cannot let it go. Why? Because I was in Europe when it was at its height. I was there and I met one mother who had borne a baby with no legs and she had come to Rome to offer her sufferings to God. She was from Belgium and the baby was her first. It was a rather hard meeting, standing there in St. Peter's Square with the mother carrying her baby, accompanied by her husband and, if I remember well, his mother. The other thing that I remember from that day is the quiet acceptance of the family and the resignation to the Will of God. We spoke for about fifteen minutes and then went on our way. I have never forgotten them.
My mind being what it is, took me down another path when I saw this picture and the accompanying story on the Internet. I remembered that this was about the time of the civil take-over taking place in the Congo...The Belgian Congo in mid-Africa. Some of you can remember that from your geography books in elementary school, way back when. I had an attack of memory about the viciousness of the insurgency and the news that was leaking up north into Europe during it all. We were in school and in the monastic life besides, so daily news was not high on our list of activities. But this was quite traumatic. It was all the more so because it brought us face to face with religious persecution as well. Part of our pain was caused by the news that the rebel soldiers had routinely raped nuns after killing the priests and their closest helpers.
These are the two thought streams that invaded me as I read the story about the Thalidomide and a third that hit me as a consequence of the first two. It is known that none of the afflicted families, to anyone's knowledge procured abortions. There were perhaps some, but Thalidomide or rape, though abortion could have been an option in some quarters, it was not a part of the regular discourse. It is known that there were some nuns who became pregnant consequent to the attack. It is a fact that many of the families of those courageous women took them in and raised the children. There were even one or two of the religious congregations who took it upon themselves to raise the children. Some of them left the religious life to be with their child. All of them are noble examples of what it means to be a living martyr for the glory of God.
I run these things through my mind and I think of how strong and valiant people can be in the face of adversity. I think of the Thalidomide babies and their families. They represent stories of personal lifelong dedication for the benefit of the new life. There were many Thalidomide babies born without any limbs at all. They are still with us, and those who have seen them through life to this point must be with them as well. Old, but still there. The nuns who were given the children took them and still have them, of course. I often wonder if any of them ever went back to the monastic life. I wonder about the bonds of love that tie the babies born under these two stressful circumstances to their parents. Today, more than at other times when I have the fleeting memory of the young family in the Square in Rome am I moved to wonder and awe at the life that they must have.
Finally, I have to shake my head at the thought of the reality at the other end of the spectrum... abortion. Yes, I have known women who have had abortions. I dare say that they may have more significant emotional scars than the Thalidomide families and the victims of the Congolese rebels. These days, we talk about abortion with such a cavalier attitude and such a "health- care" detached tone, as though abortion was nothing more than tonsillitis. I look at two of my friends who procured abortions and I think of a third whom I have not seen in more than 30 years now. They lead "normal" lives, but they never fail to tell me that they need prayers. They are always reaching out, practically pleading for warmth and assurance of forgiveness. Today I was blessed with some thoughts of comfort presented to me by the Good Lord. He is reminding me that along the road of life, everything that happened to others happened to me. Everything that has come to my head and my heart is still there for a purpose. This is one of those days when the tips of God's wings (Psalm 91) brushed my cheeks and I am grateful for it.
I hope that He answers my prayer that He should give you a fly-by too.