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Why I go to the Abortion Mill


Why I go to the Abortion Mill

Thursday an African-American man came across the street as I was getting ready to leave the abortion mill after they had closed for the day. He offered me a small donation and a plate of food he had bought at the restaurant next to the mill and stated that he, himself, was an abortion survivor. He appeared to be about my age (which is 54). My ears perked up, as abortion would have still been a criminal offense until several years after his birth.

I asked him for his story and he said his mother had tried chemicals and spoons, which she had used to terminate other pregnancies, but for some reason was unsuccessful on this occasion. Since he was driving a fairly late model pickup truck I asked him what he did for a living. He said he was a self-employed environmental engineer and that among his clients was Severstal, which is the new name for the former Rouge Steel Company in Dearborn that was bought by the Russians.

I really didn't feel like going to the mill Saturday. I was tired and thinking that maybe no customers would show up on the Saturday after Thanksgiving. But several had shown up the day before and I didn't want to take any chances. At least 5 women showed up. One left with her boyfriend and may have been a save; I didn't have a chance to ask. One left too soon to have an abortion but didn't appear to have the 24 hour info either. One definitely had an abortion; one was still inside when I left around 10 AM. I leave early on Saturday because a larger group of Catholics comes out at 9:30. The last one, Shirley Williams, I would like to ask you to remember in your prayers.

Shirley came for the state-mandated 24 hour abortion information because she buried her only child, a 7-year-old son, a couple of weeks ago. He died from complications of asthma and she said she couldn't see raising another child after losing him.

She took my literature and we spoke for several minutes. She promised to call the Crisis Pregnancy Center for advice. Among other things, I shared with her the following: I told her one thing that would be worse than losing a child would be to lose two children. I told her about a young lady I work with who had twins several years ago, one of whom, Brandon , was born with a heart defect. He had a transplant shortly after birth, but needed another one recently. Unfortunately, he died after the second transplant. I was told this was covered on the local TV news in Detroit, although I didn't see it myself. The obituary that was posted on the bulletin boards at work was titled "Celebrate Life," a story, as if written by Brandon from his heavenly home, about all the wonderful experiences he had with friends and family during his short life on earth.

I told her about a little first grade boy, at a Detroit school where I substitute taught a few years ago, who was accidentally shot and killed by his third grade brother while playing with a gun someone had left in the house. I asked if she could imagine what the older brother and his mom must have gone through as a result of the shooting, and whether she would advise them to let the incident keep them down for the rest of their lives or keep on going with God's help.

I reminded Shirley that Job had lost his children, his health, and everything he owned, and that his wife had encouraged him to curse God and die, but that Job had been faithful to His Lord and God blessed him in the end with more than he had lost. Shirley admitted that she had been blaming Jesus to some extent for what had happened. I said that I had spent much of my life blaming and cursing God for things that had happened and that that is definitely not the way to go.

She showed me the printed program from the funeral service, which was still in her purse. There was a beautiful picture of Shirley, her son, and her son's father sitting together. I asked if they were married and she said, no, that they're not even together, and that the child she is carrying now was fathered by a different man. Under the circumstances I could understand why Shirley might be scared, but she had a quiet dignity and seemed to understand what I was saying to her. Although I believe she said she has never had an abortion, (unless I misunderstood), I told her that the Crisis Pregnancy Center does post abortion counseling for women who've had abortions and that I thought they would be more than willing to offer her grief counseling, as well as the emotional and material support they provide to expecting mothers.

I told Shirley that all of us would like to be there for her in her hour of need. My prayer is that we as a nation would be there for all of our children in their hour of need and that of their parents, for their loss is most certainly that of our own. I remember reading The Three Musketeers years ago; the expression "one for all and all for one" comes to mind. I think that is a biblical concept.

One Christian man from Romania who drives a truck for a Muslim-owned restaurant, La-Shish, says he has 11 children and 37 grandchildren. He's a happy man, and he encouraged me to read John 3 the first time he spoke to me. Sometimes, now, when he drives by, he just smiles and waves. But sometimes he rolls down the window and yells, "John 3, John 3," as he's driving by.

It is hard to go to the abortion mill every day. Working full time at night and going to the death camp has taken its toll on me, physically and emotionally. I don't have time to read the Bible and pray like I should, nor do I have time to exercise as I'd like. I used to run 40-50 miles per week during the summer (less during the winter when I was teaching). Now I'm fortunate to run more than 5 miles per week any time of the year. I also have numerous personal things that need my attention. Nevertheless, testimonies like the ones above help keep me going. Even if you can't make it to the mill, your prayers are appreciated!

Chris Coatney
Dearborn, Michigan