A baby in my hand

Yesterday I held a lovely little baby girl in my arms. Or should I say, my hands.

She had been given a pretty name by her loving parents, but because she was only 21 weeks old, she couldn't make it. She struggled for a while, then simply, quietly, gently slipped away in her mothers arms.

She was SO small, so fine, barely the size of my pocket Bible I had with me. The details of her face all in their proper place. But this world was to much for her. She couldn't handle the harshness of it all, so she went Home.

I prayed with the broken parents, only imagining what it might be like. I comforted them as best I knew how, and assured them of my prayers and care if they requested it.

As I left them, I thought about her, baby S.

I thought about how she seemed all there, at least the visible, physical parts of her. I knew she was there in her spirit, and that she was a soul. I wondered what part of her would make her a non-human being.

I remembered a statistic I had read in TIME Magazine that said "...studies estimating that 43% of women will have an abortion by the time they are 45." I thought about the fact that Great Britain will do abortions till 24 weeks of age...

It didn't make me angry, it just made me sad. I found comfort in the fact that there is a God who cares and loves us enough to provide a place and care and love for us when we are unwanted by others, on this side of heaven.