Post 100

The Eleventh Hour

So to return to the beginning of this Pro-Life Advice, let’s say that you really want to do something about the woman who has her hand on the door handle of that Abortion Industry place.

This is what I would suggest.

It’s entirely about the world of symbols.

Currently, the image of a pro-lifer is someone with a sign and maybe a candle, standing on a sidewalk, slightly mournfully, facing a clinic.

Something like that.

Change it up, folks.

Think of the Catholic teaching that the earthly death of a saint or an otherwise innocent person is actually the beginning of eternal life in heaven. A good thought on Easter Monday.

And speaking of thoughts, I was thinking this morning about think-tanks. Are you up for a digression? I’ll put it in bold, so you can skip it if you have better things to do:

I was imagining a get-together with Chesterton.

I was thinking about the phrase ‘think-tank.’ (Now to be fair, the groups called ‘think-tanks’ aren’t necessarily calling themselves this. It can be a label slapped by one group onto another.)

Bet we’d have a hoot with that one. Even sitting alone at my computer I was laughing.

(Some of my ancestors were from Yorkshire, same place he’d see Fr. O’Connor, who was the starting inspiration for his Father Brown character. So I suppose if I met with Chesterton, we’d have tea, Yorkshire style. I mention this why, I’m not sure.)


What exactly is a think-tank? What comes to mind? Is that like, lots of people in an army tank thinking? Why are they thinking? To be specific, why are they thinking in a tank? Are they wondering why they’re in a tank? I wonder. Are they in a war? Or do they just have a deep appreciation for tanks, kind of in general? Or do they just think they like tanks? Are they thinking about how to get out of the tank? Are they stuck?

Or are they lost? Are they thinking about how to operate the controls? Are they thinking about where they want to go?

And why do the thinking people get a tank and nobody else gets one for any of the other things that humans do?

What about thanking? (Chesterton would bring that one up because he says it’s one of two biggest themes that he felt most strongly about – the theory of thanks and the role of the family – it’s in his autobiography, last chapter.) Does that get a tank?

Is there such a thing as a thank tank? A thanking tank?

Mind you, thinking is something you can do with the others in the tank, whereas thanking would sometimes involve driving around the city to other people. Like you’d go up to the people who forwarded your blog links, just to thank them.

But you wouldn’t necessarily know how to drive (still thinking about that.)

It’s kind of okay though, because you’d be in a tank. Nobody’d run you over.

You might run over them, though, or their motorbike parked at the side of the road. (In our city, the motorbikes seems to all appear on April Fool’s Day because that’s when the roads typically are covered with accident-inducing gravel and the bikers wipe out on it – this year, however, it should be all clear – no gravel.)

But at least people would see you coming.

“Oh shit! Here comes the thank tank! What did you do, dumb-head? Did you go and do something nice for that blogger? Forward her link or something? She’s coming to thank you! I think she’s going to squish my bike! Oh no! Oh man!”

Alright, so, knowing the Catholic teaching definitely does add another dimension to the pro-life symbolism. Let’s take advantage of it.

The current pro-life image is in dire need of a make-over.

It’s not particularly effective at stopping abortions, and it’s not particularly effective at winning over new volunteers to your side.

Think in terms of the Catholic teaching. Think in terms of symbolism.

Get it?

The birthday.

Think of the birthday.

The day of the death of her little baby is actually the day of its birthday in heaven. But it gets better. All of those symbols will pierce this woman’s heart. The heart of a woman, in the 11th hour, who carries within her a baby who is also in his 11th hour, has been saddened and steeled by the lies that she’s heard.

If you want to stand any chance of melting that heart, aim your dart.

Aim it well.

Here’s the ammunition.

It’s the birthday.

She knows it’s a baby. At the very least, she knows that in a few months, baby’s birth day will arrive.

But she also knows, deep in her heart, that entering that clinic means…

No birthdays.

No baby means no birth day, and no birthdays.

Fire away.

Instead of holding signs, hold baby clothes. That’s what’ll do it. Go to the store, pro-lifer. Find the cutest little sleeper, the like-a-doll dresses and the mini-tuxedo.

Hold it up high. Along with balloons.

Show the drivers as they drive right on by.

The size of those little teeny outfits, the outfits that will always stay empty.

Show the balloons, the streamers, the little noisemaker whirly twirl things.

It’s time to celebrate, in a way, because it’s a strange kind of birth that’s happening still. A strange bittersweet tribute that means quite a lot.

Men, do the same, but for you, something else. Buy a little sports jersey, your favorite team, but buy it in ‘mini’ – the size for the baby that never will live to sit by the TV, to watch next to you, at the local bar, the local Whyte Avenue pub.

Hold it up, little guy’s clothes.

He won’t be around

To ever slip it on

He’s leaving today

Before his feet touch the ground

But this is the way

To say Goodbye Little Guy

Wish you could stay!

Hold it up high.
She might change her mind.

In hour 11

Number 11

Good number 11

Tank you everyone.

MinedGems is 1

And I cross the finish line
With you,
Dearest reader

Post 100.

God Bless.
– Mena J.