Keeping the Faith

Lambs Cut Down in Spring

There are four prerequisites for Spring. Four things that I must witness before Spring can truly be declared as here and happening:

Daffodils in bloom.
Sunshine without sunburn.
Washing on the line (rather than strung throughout the house).
And lambs frolicking in paddocks.

It’s a season of unfurling, of pink vulnerability and joyful abandon.

Gah! Those sweet little lambs. White and carefree, romping in the green, performing those delightful leaps that linger at mid-point.

That’s before some crazy jumps the fence with a hammer and bludgeons one to death. One, then another, and another, until the poor Beulah farmer has a pile of 56 lamb carcasses, mindlessly killed, tortured. One had the wool ripped off its shins and its ears burned, the farmer told reporters. Gives you chills.

What prompts such brutality?

Please, can someone identify the gene, the experience, the upbringing, the education that generates such behaviour so we can purge society of it? Alas, you know as well as I do, that’s not going to happen.

Let me be honest. When I saw photos of those lambs, lifeless and bloodied, I immediately thought of photos of our own kind, lifeless and bloodied, slaughtered in the Spring of their lives.

Their bodies were in surgical pans, piled into hospital waste bins.

I’m referring to the damning footage released in the US over the past three months exposing the vile practice of harvesting fetal body parts by the government-funded Planned Parenthood. The American abortion business is under investigation and the House of Representatives has voted for legislation that would temporarily defund Planned Parenthood until the investigation is complete (PP received $528 million in government funding last year alone).

Ten undercover videos reveal in horrific detail the lengths that abortionists are prepared to go to in order to deliver “intact fetal cadavers” to sell for research purposes. They show impassive Planned Parenthood staff haggling with potential buyers over the price of baby parts while lunching and swilling wine.

One PP worker described the “procurement” of organs from a late-term abortion. Standing over the little body, her supervisor said, “You want to see something kind of cool?” Not waiting for an answer, she tapped the heart and it started beating.
“I’m looking at this fetus, and its heart is beating, and I don’t know what to think,” the worker said.

They went on to draw a line down that baby’s face with a scalpel to harvest his brain.

What prompts such brutality?

In this context, it’s an easier question to answer.

Planned Parenthood is a lucrative business making money from vulnerable people. Vulnerable women in situations where they believe their only choice is to end the life of their unborn child. Vulnerable children, yet to feel the sun on their face.

But medical research is making unparalleled advancements, improving people’s lives, finding cures for all manner of human ailments, people argue. It’s a necessary evil, they say.

Does the end justify the means?

How I yearn for the day when the womb is the safest place in the world – just as it was intended. Where humanity in its Spring is nurtured, its pink vulnerability protected, its joyful abandonment celebrated.

The womb as haven, not a corral for lambs to the slaughter.

This Planned Parenthood disgrace is good – it is drawing attention to a global horror bent on dehumanising life. Life reduced to a pile of body parts. Ironically, they take life in an effort to prolong life. Don’t be naïve enough to think it doesn’t happen in Australia, either.

There are four things that a preborn has the right to in the Spring of their existence:

Safety.
Love.
Sustenance.
And life.

As we lament lambs slaughtered needlessly and call for justice, will we do the same for our own kind?


First published in The Examiner Newspaper for Keeping the Faith column on Monday September 28, 2015.

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I am a writer, mother, wife and believer in a reality bigger than my own. I love exploring the small epiphanies of life. Nothing is humdrum. Every moment is charged with opportunity, each one mixing its ideas with the ink in my pen. You call it alchemy, I call it God.

1 Comment

  1. This breaks my heart. I too wish the womb was the safest place on earth. I was just reading an article this morning that Australia is now making an abortion pill available via the telephone. So, so sad that no one recognises these babies as a life, instead trying to find new ways to make abortion easier to access…. and more little lives are being lost. 😢

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