Most of the participants of the prayer vigil had dispersed when the “doctor” drove slowly past her home and around the traffic circle. As she pulled up next to our vehicle she demanded: “What are you doing parked outside my home? Are you the people who have been distributing these leaflets?” She waved one of the “You Can Stop Abortions in Pinelands!” leaflets. “Who wrote this?” she demanded to know. “I did.” responded Taryn.
“Well, I want you to stop. You’re embarrassing me in my neighborhood. I don’t want my neighbours to know what I do.”
“If what you are doing is right, why would you be embarrassed about your neighbours knowing your occupation?” I asked.
“Because it’s controversial. Not everyone approves of abortion. You are embarrassing me.”
“You are killing babies.” I told her.
“No, I don’t kill babies. The mothers do.” she responded.
“Well, the mothers pay you to kill their babies, but you’re the one who actually does the procedure.”
“But it’s their choice, they sign the life of their baby away. I’m just providing a service.” responded the “doctor”.
“So, you’re like a hit-man, who takes money to kill people?”
“You could describe it like that,” she smiled. “I’m providing a service. It’s the mother’s choice.”
(...)
Surely you, as a doctor, know that life begins at conception?”
“That’s not the point.”
“Yes, that is exactly the point. Make no mistake, the day will come when future generations will look back on abortion in our time the same way that we now look back on the slave trade and the holocausts.”
“Maybe,” she said, “but we won’t be around then, so it won’t matter to us.”
Doc, you just might. Don't exclude the possibility.
