Dusk

I glanced at my watch at 7 this evening, surprised at the lingering sunlight. Emmaus, Zion, Ezra and Salome' played up and down the driveway, delighted to be outside. I chatted absently with my girlfriend while Ezzie sat contentedly on my hip. Suddenly I realized Emmaus was nowhere close.

To my horror, light from the headlights of a car reflected off the chrome of Emmaus' little trike on which he cycled fervently five houses away from me, directly in the center of the street. I screamed again and again for him to get to the side of the road as I raced to intervene. All I could see was his tiny silhouette against the harsh glare of the lights. Our 9 year old neighbor sprinted, quickly covering the distance. The yelling and running caught the driver's attention. Just as I reached our boy the car stopped. Emmaus sat on his bike within arm's length of the fender in the eerie light of the headlights, blind eyes shining in the dusk. I hadn't even noticed how dark it had become until I lost sight of my boy.

Dusk is the lingering time when sharp images and clear view is altered.

The word dusk, or perhaps more the idea of it slipping in unnoticed, has been on my mind all week. These are difficult days for our nation. It is overwhelming that I'd experience such a vivid, terrifying picture of my own complacency in a life threatening situation with my child, when sanctity of life is the very question at hand in our capitol.

A piece of this evening's story that I must relate is that though my responses were quick and appropriate, and all was well in the end, praise God, my adrenaline never kicked in. Everything continued in slow motion. As I hugged my precious boy I was stunned at my own calmness. It felt inappropriate for the horrible moments. To feel numb at the possible outcome of my child's death was unnerving.

So I contemplate this in the light of our days. I wonder that sanctity of life can be an issue so easily silenced with a promise and perhaps a turn of the pen. Our five adopted children have no words to debate the value of their own lives. For every "good" argument in support of abortion, I have a baby to rock, a little hand to slip in mine and a voice that calls me "Mamma". There is healing, grace and forgiveness for abortions already done. Yet, why must there be more? Pro-choice is deceit. Pro-choice means someone doesn't get to choose.

Dusk has fallen over all of us. The subject of abortion is hotly debated until the deal is made. All are appeased.

The light is waning, the child is unnoticed, and our blind eyes see nothing.