Paint and an Artist

I feel like my emotions are trapped. I am a mother, why can't I openly grieve for the loss? I stood there and watched another mother accept the hugs and words of condolence from members of our community for over 2 hours. Those around me were crying, but not me. I felt heartless, but my heart ached. I wanted to rush forward and wrap the mother in my arms. But I couldn't. My daughter needed me. She needed my full attention. I signed the guest book and went back to the mother's room. Maybe after the service I could hug the mother. Maybe after the service I could mourn with her.  Three hours later, my daughter and I left. The service wasn't over, but my daughter was tired and hungry. Maybe at home , I thought, maybe there I will be able to cry .  The tears still haven't flowed. Maybe tomorrow I will cry. Maybe tomorrow the emotion that I feel trapped inside me will be released. Maybe then the healing can begin. 

Devalued. A powerful word. What if  . . . the silenced could speak? What if . . . our nation valued   the life of all, including the  unborn ? You weren't expecting that, were you? We are interesting people. Fed up with police brutality, while turning a blind eye to tragedy happening within clinics across the nation. I'm not writing this to start a debate on pro-life or pro-choice. In my opinion, abortions should be legal, but they should be few and far between. Abortions are not a convenience, you aren't dumping unwanted food into a garbage disposal. Did you know that there are approximately 42 million babies aborted worldwide per year.*  42 million future musicians, doctors, nurses, ambassadors, politicians, artists, activists, teachers, social workers, plumbers, presidents, scientists, etc.—snuffed out because their beginnings were inconvenient to their mothers.    What if . . . we allowed their hearts to beat? What if . . .  we valued all life. Beginning