NOT FORGOTTEN…


My friend Cristy, posted something on Facebook yesterday.  It said this:

“Today we remember all babies born sleeping, or those we’ve carried but never met, those we’ve held but couldn’t take home…the one’s that came home, but didn’t stay.”

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It reminded me of a poem I wrote a few years back.  I was in a nostalgic state of mind when I wrote it-thinking about my dad who had died a few years before.  He loved to paint, and was a great artist!  He used to watch Bob Ross’ show on TV.

I also had the subject of abortion on my mind that day. I was thinking of all the children that have had their lives snuffed out before their time, whether due to sickness, abortion, abuse, disease, or being still born…or miscarried.

I was sitting on the patio at the time, viewing the expanse and beauty of nature…and I could almost see my dad and Bob Ross giving painting lessons to all the little kids in Heaven!  That’s when God put this poem in my heart.

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Nameless, (Gone)…but not forgotten

 

A small little embryo, just the size of a pea

Not long ago, sat on Jesus’ knee.

Jesus told of the wonderful plans in store,

Of the amazing life, just outside the wombs door.

He said, “Son, you’ll be another Michelangelo!

It won’t be long now…you’ll soon get to go!”

But mother was young, and so afraid…

She ran to Planned Parenthood to abort this babe;

So now through eternity, he’ll paint the skies,

And the bright yellow sun, as it starts to rise.

He’s joined by millions who are already there…

Who had their lives ended without a care.

As I sit and observe nature with it’s  wonderful view,

I’m sure God allows them to do what all children do…

With water colors, and crayons, and markers, and paint,

They draw in the sky…sometimes, ever so faint!

For I’ve seen angels…and turtles…and castles of clouds,

And I know tiny hands drew them as they giggled aloud!

Was it them that put that gull in view against a blue, blue sky,

Or painted the rose a pretty pink, just as I walked by?

Do they paint the brown eyes of a little fawn,

Or the spots on a butterfly?

Or the stripes on a bee…buzzing through the air,

Or the snow on the mountains high?

Was it their bush that stroked the canyon wall,

Or painted the mist from the thundering water fall?

Do they color the rainbow in all of its hues,

Or that shimmering, glimmering drop of dew?

The crest of white on the ocean wave…

Or the dark black hole at the mouth of a cave?

The reds, and golds of the leaves in Fall,

Or the majestic Red Woods, towering O so tall?

Do they paint each petal that blooms in Spring,

Or touch their brush to each birds wing?

Were they the ones that drew the naked trees in burnt umber, and somber black,

Silhouettes  against winter skies?

Does their brush touch the glistening snow, as the winter wind softly sighs?

Did they paint the rocks of the canyon wall, in the Grandest Canyon of them all,

Or the cactus blooms on the desert sandy….  Or the llamas fur, high in the Andes?

I think they paint everything!  A billowy cloud…or a lightening bolt, straight to the ground!

A purple dawn… a silver fog…or a Harvest moon, big and round!

The earth and sky are their canvas huge; they paint by day and by night.

They paint the colors of dawn each morning, and scatter the stars at night.

When I grow tired and I close my eyes, do they close their eyes too?

No!  I think they fly to the other side of the world and paint yet another spectacular view!

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If you’ve lost a baby…be assured of this:  They are in Heaven with Jesus!  If you KNOW Him as your Savior, you’ll see them again!  So take heart…don’t be sad!  HE’s taking good care of them!

Anita

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