Events on all fronts this past week. Eduardo, the infant son of one of the mothers living at Guadalupe House, was badly burned at the day care center. Somehow boiling water was spilled over his chest. The burns were second degree. The mother went to the police station yesterday to file a complaint against the center; it is hoped that at least the center will cover all the medical costs. Obviously it should do so–then again, the world may be tempted to plow over the rights of a single mom who speaks no English. It seems the mother is also upset with us because we encouraged her to work. She is even rumbling threats to return to Detroit–which, then would be tragedy for all three children, not just one.
The abortion mill was busy yesterday. We arrived at 7:45 and found five cars already in the lot. Patrick, Alicia and I were there, with Donna and Mike arriving soon afterwards. We were spread out pretty well, followed all the basic rules of sidewalk counseling–still, no one had any significant response to us.
After we left the mill I got a call from Tabitha (an invented name). She is a 17 year-old who was abortion-minded. She has arleady had one abortion. She is about 12 weeks preganant now–she has been in phone contact with us for about 4 weeks, but we hadn’t met her face to face. We drove to her house–or, the place where she is living. At 17, she has no home–there’s no father, her mother lives with a boyfriend. Tabitha goes from house to house. We took her out to get groceries and prenatals. At the grocery store I handed her the cart and told her to get what she needed. That cost $120.00! But I think this young woman desperately needs to know that someone is going to look after her. I asked her where she had gotten her first abortion, and she said Women’s Advisory in Livonia. I considered for a moment, then I told her that aborted babies had been found in the trash behind the building. It was then her turn to consider for a moment–then she asked if they knew who the babies belonged to. I said no, but I assured her that the babies had been buried and told her where.
Only on the way home did I realize that this girl/woman, already with one abortion in her past, no home to speak of, is the same age as my daughter.
I then went to Guadalupe house to deliver more groceries. Just about the first thing I heard when I walked into the kitchen was, “Mr. Miller, we are mad at you.” That was the 12 year-old translating the distress of her mother. The 12 year-old also said she might not be in school this week. I pray that the weekend will to a great extent heal the distress of the mother. The baby, even with the large dressing on his chest, looked calm and responsive.
