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by-grace-of-god:

Sign Language Interpreter at Planned Parenthood Shares Heartbreaking Story of Having to Interpret Abortion
I was eighteen when I took a job as a sign language interpreter at Planned Parenthood. I was raised Roman Catholic, but I was Catholic in the same way that Olive Garden is an authentic Italian restaurant: just because you throw some fancy words on the menu doesn’t make it genuine.
For me, abortion was not a choice that I would make personally, but the way I saw it, who was I to judge another woman for having one? I didn’t know her life. I didn’t know her circumstances, and I had prided myself my whole life on not judging people without knowing their full story.
A deaf friend referred me to the job opening at a Boston clinic, and it paid well. I averaged about $100 an hour for my services! That’s all it was to me, a job to make money for my upcoming college tuition. I didn’t work often, maybe one or two days a week, and traveled around to the Boston-area clinics when needed. For the most part, I interpreted for women seeking counseling, getting prescriptions for birth control, or just getting general information about sexual health. It all seemed innocent enough.
Deep down, however, I must have known I was doing something wrong. I told people I worked for a “family services counseling center.” I figured that wasn’t completely a lie. The trouble was, most people took that to mean that I was going into the world and doing good: interpreting for families living in poverty, or families who were trying to keep themselves together. Despite the fact that Planned Parenthood offered all kinds of services, in the back of my mind I knew that at the root of it they really were just an abortion clinic.
The worst day of my life—and an anniversary I never forget when it comes every year—is Thursday, November 1, 2012. I was called in to interpret for a “medical procedure.” I arrived early, and chatted with the receptionist as I did every day. I grabbed a cup of coffee and waited for the client to arrive. While I waited, I went over her file. I’ll call her Kate. She was twenty-three and had been deaf since birth. Kate estimated that she was about eighteen weeks pregnant.
At 10:30 sharp, we entered the operating room. That’s when my stomach started to turn. Previously, when I’d read “medical procedure,” it had been for ultrasounds. But this was different – we were in an OR. The lights were too bright for the size of the room. There were cold-looking metal objects on a table. I was in an abortion.
I tried to remain calm. I interpreted back and forth, but when the murder began, I lost it. As I watched the doctor pull this life out, limb by limb, I couldn’t help but let the tears start to fall. What I had thought would be just lumps of blood clots were body parts. Arms, a torso, legs, and a head. I felt as if I was suffocating. As soon as it was over, I ran from the room. I collapsed in the hallway and sobbed uncontrollably. To this day, I haven’t cried like that since. A security guard rushed me into his office. I realize now that it was probably not to console me, but because I was scaring the patients.
I quit my job that afternoon. I went into the manager’s office and signed my papers. Abortion was not a strong enough word for what I had witnessed. Murder wasn’t even good enough a word. To me, murder implied that the person might have been capable of fighting back. No, this was a slaughter.
I don’t think I will ever fully recover from what I saw that day. A human life, a BABY, had been ripped from its mother’s body, piece by piece. It is the first thing I see when I wake up in the morning, and the last thing I think of before I go to bed. I still have nightmares about it sometimes. Whenever I see a child around two, I imagine that that is how old the aborted baby would be now. I can’t help but wonder who that baby would have become. Maybe she would have been an artist. Maybe he would have dreamed of being a firefighter. Maybe she would have gone on to become a doctor who saved lives; maybe he would have become a teacher.
With counseling, I have come to accept that God forgives me for the act that I was a part of, but I am still working on forgiving myself. The only thing that consoles me on the nights that it keeps me up is knowing that that baby is now in Heaven, enjoying Eternal Life. After what this world put it through, I think that’s a good place to be.

by-grace-of-god:

Sign Language Interpreter at Planned Parenthood Shares Heartbreaking Story of Having to Interpret Abortion

I was eighteen when I took a job as a sign language interpreter at Planned Parenthood. I was raised Roman Catholic, but I was Catholic in the same way that Olive Garden is an authentic Italian restaurant: just because you throw some fancy words on the menu doesn’t make it genuine.

For me, abortion was not a choice that I would make personally, but the way I saw it, who was I to judge another woman for having one? I didn’t know her life. I didn’t know her circumstances, and I had prided myself my whole life on not judging people without knowing their full story.

A deaf friend referred me to the job opening at a Boston clinic, and it paid well. I averaged about $100 an hour for my services! That’s all it was to me, a job to make money for my upcoming college tuition. I didn’t work often, maybe one or two days a week, and traveled around to the Boston-area clinics when needed. For the most part, I interpreted for women seeking counseling, getting prescriptions for birth control, or just getting general information about sexual health. It all seemed innocent enough.

Deep down, however, I must have known I was doing something wrong. I told people I worked for a “family services counseling center.” I figured that wasn’t completely a lie. The trouble was, most people took that to mean that I was going into the world and doing good: interpreting for families living in poverty, or families who were trying to keep themselves together. Despite the fact that Planned Parenthood offered all kinds of services, in the back of my mind I knew that at the root of it they really were just an abortion clinic.

The worst day of my life—and an anniversary I never forget when it comes every year—is Thursday, November 1, 2012. I was called in to interpret for a “medical procedure.” I arrived early, and chatted with the receptionist as I did every day. I grabbed a cup of coffee and waited for the client to arrive. While I waited, I went over her file. I’ll call her Kate. She was twenty-three and had been deaf since birth. Kate estimated that she was about eighteen weeks pregnant.

At 10:30 sharp, we entered the operating room. That’s when my stomach started to turn. Previously, when I’d read “medical procedure,” it had been for ultrasounds. But this was different – we were in an OR. The lights were too bright for the size of the room. There were cold-looking metal objects on a table. I was in an abortion.

I tried to remain calm. I interpreted back and forth, but when the murder began, I lost it. As I watched the doctor pull this life out, limb by limb, I couldn’t help but let the tears start to fall. What I had thought would be just lumps of blood clots were body parts. Arms, a torso, legs, and a head. I felt as if I was suffocating. As soon as it was over, I ran from the room. I collapsed in the hallway and sobbed uncontrollably. To this day, I haven’t cried like that since. A security guard rushed me into his office. I realize now that it was probably not to console me, but because I was scaring the patients.

I quit my job that afternoon. I went into the manager’s office and signed my papers. Abortion was not a strong enough word for what I had witnessed. Murder wasn’t even good enough a word. To me, murder implied that the person might have been capable of fighting back. No, this was a slaughter.

I don’t think I will ever fully recover from what I saw that day. A human life, a BABY, had been ripped from its mother’s body, piece by piece. It is the first thing I see when I wake up in the morning, and the last thing I think of before I go to bed. I still have nightmares about it sometimes. Whenever I see a child around two, I imagine that that is how old the aborted baby would be now. I can’t help but wonder who that baby would have become. Maybe she would have been an artist. Maybe he would have dreamed of being a firefighter. Maybe she would have gone on to become a doctor who saved lives; maybe he would have become a teacher.

With counseling, I have come to accept that God forgives me for the act that I was a part of, but I am still working on forgiving myself. The only thing that consoles me on the nights that it keeps me up is knowing that that baby is now in Heaven, enjoying Eternal Life. After what this world put it through, I think that’s a good place to be.

(via remoldmelord)

Just a reminder…

alabamasouthernbelle:

long-live-america:

It costs $0.00 to be a nice person, so stop acting like you can’t afford a good attitude.

This is great

(via october-afternoons)

stickfigurefairytales:


Suicides go up when a famous person dies after losing their battle with mental illness. If you’re thinking of suicide, call 800-283-8255. (x)

Just wanted to add these links for hotlines in countries other than the US, too (taken from this post):
Argentina Suicide Hotlines
Armenia Suicide Hotlines
Australia Suicide Hotlines
Austria Suicide Hotlines
Barbados Suicide Hotlines
Belgium Suicide Hotlines
Botswana Suicide Hotlines
Brazil Suicide Hotlines
Canada Suicide Hotlines
China Suicide Hotlines
Croatia Suicide Hotlines
Cyprus Suicide Hotlines
Denmark Suicide Hotlines
Egypt Suicide Hotlines
Estonia Suicide Hotlines
Fiji Suicide Hotlines
Finland Suicide Hotlines
France Suicide Hotlines
Germany Suicide Hotlines
Ghana Suicide Hotlines
Gibraltar Suicide Hotlines
Hong Kong Suicide Hotlines
Hungary Suicide Hotlines
India Suicide Hotlines
Ireland Suicide Hotlines
Israel Suicide Hotlines 
Italy Suicide Hotlines
Japan Suicide Hotlines
Liberia Suicide Hotlines
Lithuania Suicide Hotlines
Malaysia Suicide Hotlines
Malta Suicide Hotlines
Mauritius Suicide Hotlines
Namibia Suicide Hotlines
Netherlands Suicide Hotlines
New Zealand Suicide Hotlines
Norway Suicide Hotlines
Paupua New Guinea Suicide Hotlines
Philippines Suicide Hotlines
Poland Suicide Hotlines
Portugal Suicide Hotlines
Russian Federation Suicide Hotlines
Somoa Suicide Hotlines
Serbia Suicide Hotlines
Singapore Suicide Hotlines
South Africa Suicide Hotlines
South Korea Suicide Hotlines
Spain Suicide Hotlines
Sri Lanka Suicide Hotlines
St. Vincent Suicide Hotlines
Sudan Suicide Hotlines
Sweden Suicide Hotlines
Switzerland Suicide Hotlines
Taiwan Suicide Hotlines
Thailand Suicide Hotlines
Tobago Suicide Hotlines
Tonga Suicide Hotlines
Trinidad and Tobago Suicide Hotlines
Turkey Suicide Hotlines
Ukraine Suicide Hotlines
United Kingdom Suicide Hotlines
United States Suicide Hotlines
Zimbabwe Suicide Hotlines

stickfigurefairytales:

Suicides go up when a famous person dies after losing their battle with mental illness. If you’re thinking of suicide, call 800-283-8255. (x)

Just wanted to add these links for hotlines in countries other than the US, too (taken from this post):

Argentina Suicide Hotlines

Armenia Suicide Hotlines

Australia Suicide Hotlines

Austria Suicide Hotlines

Barbados Suicide Hotlines

Belgium Suicide Hotlines

Botswana Suicide Hotlines

Brazil Suicide Hotlines

Canada Suicide Hotlines

China Suicide Hotlines

Croatia Suicide Hotlines

Cyprus Suicide Hotlines

Denmark Suicide Hotlines

Egypt Suicide Hotlines

Estonia Suicide Hotlines

Fiji Suicide Hotlines

Finland Suicide Hotlines

France Suicide Hotlines

Germany Suicide Hotlines

Ghana Suicide Hotlines

Gibraltar Suicide Hotlines

Hong Kong Suicide Hotlines

Hungary Suicide Hotlines

India Suicide Hotlines

Ireland Suicide Hotlines

Israel Suicide Hotlines

Italy Suicide Hotlines

Japan Suicide Hotlines

Liberia Suicide Hotlines

Lithuania Suicide Hotlines

Malaysia Suicide Hotlines

Malta Suicide Hotlines

Mauritius Suicide Hotlines

Namibia Suicide Hotlines

Netherlands Suicide Hotlines

New Zealand Suicide Hotlines

Norway Suicide Hotlines

Paupua New Guinea Suicide Hotlines

Philippines Suicide Hotlines

Poland Suicide Hotlines

Portugal Suicide Hotlines

Russian Federation Suicide Hotlines

Somoa Suicide Hotlines

Serbia Suicide Hotlines

Singapore Suicide Hotlines

South Africa Suicide Hotlines

South Korea Suicide Hotlines

Spain Suicide Hotlines

Sri Lanka Suicide Hotlines

St. Vincent Suicide Hotlines

Sudan Suicide Hotlines

Sweden Suicide Hotlines

Switzerland Suicide Hotlines

Taiwan Suicide Hotlines

Thailand Suicide Hotlines

Tobago Suicide Hotlines

Tonga Suicide Hotlines

Trinidad and Tobago Suicide Hotlines

Turkey Suicide Hotlines

Ukraine Suicide Hotlines

United Kingdom Suicide Hotlines

United States Suicide Hotlines

Zimbabwe Suicide Hotlines

(Source: autumnblitz, via just-a-skinny-boy)

yeahmicah:

expl0sive-cucumber:

skinnymini-13:

myresin:

THIS VIDEO

WATCH THIS VIDEO

WORDS CANNOT EXPRESS HOW WELL DONE THIS VIDEO WAS DONE TO SPREAD AWARENESS.

Everyone watch this

I WANT TO BREAK MY MOUSE WITH REBLOG

WOW.

(Source: youtube.com)

thisisjefficus:

avril-lasagne:

letushear:

hoodbypussy:

Évolution inversée

As he got older, his perception of reality became distorted. 

as he became older he got more and more bored with reality. when youre technically perfect the only place you can go is surreal

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

SO MANY PEOPLE DON’T UNDERSTAND THIS ABOUT HIM

No, you guys, he was a cubist. That’s what cubists did. They went to fancy pants art schools to learn the rules of doing art only to break them and follow the new rules established by the Modernists (like painting on a grid, color theory, thumbing their nose at all the other artists by making “bad art”).

*2

Almost hit something due to frustration.

Go on tumblr to find funny things and laugh it off.

Halp me.

*10
Please be in prayer for the sweet girl on the right. She got in a serious bicycle accident that caused major brain injuries. She’s such a wonderful girl who has encouraged and touched many people including me. We’re praying for the power of God to restore her.
Pray for her family, best friend, boyfriend, the kids who witnessed her crash. Pray for cranial pressure to lower.
Jesus you are healer, so we pray that you’ll come and touch Katie.You love her more than us all. She’s your precious daughter.
Stir in us the faith to declare who you are and what you’ve done, and what you are doing. Your will be done, In Jesus’ name, Amen!

Please be in prayer for the sweet girl on the right. She got in a serious bicycle accident that caused major brain injuries. She’s such a wonderful girl who has encouraged and touched many people including me. We’re praying for the power of God to restore her.

Pray for her family, best friend, boyfriend, the kids who witnessed her crash. Pray for cranial pressure to lower.

Jesus you are healer, so we pray that you’ll come and touch Katie.You love her more than us all. She’s your precious daughter.

Stir in us the faith to declare who you are and what you’ve done, and what you are doing. Your will be done, In Jesus’ name, Amen!

*21

Tacos, Toes, and OKLAHOMA YALL

heartsaharper said: Please pray for Sudan. There's currently a genocide occurring there and our media isn't allowed in certain places but the government has been inflicting a lot of turmoil onto the people despite the fact that it's extremely wealthy while the people aren't. I'm apart of a group at my college that tries to combat the events taking place there now. Every prayer and act of compassion towards spreading the word counts. Honestly, when I see places like this prayer is hard to believe in but thanks. <3

jesusiswhatthisworldneeds:

Oh goodness :( Thank you for your action! Please update me and send me stuff so I can get involved in helping!! I will be praying. 

Dear Jesus, I know your heart grieves for injustices. I believe thats why you’ve placed that heart in us as well, as Your people. Jesus I pray that you would just take away the oppression going on and that you would heal that nation and that they would turn to you and they would know that You Jesus love them, no matter what they’ve done. Jesus I pray for peace. I pray for restoration. I pray for forgiveness. I know you can do all this. May we trust in You and trust Your timing in all things. We love you Jesus. We believe you are all powerful. Thank you so much, In Jesus Name I pray, AMEN!

"It is still idolatry to want God for His benefits but not for Himself."

Matt Chandler  (via littlethingsaboutgod)

Thank you. Truth.

(via remoldmelord)

(Source: kissthewave, via remoldmelord)

You are loved. If you struggle, get the help you need

You are loved. If you struggle, get the help you need

(Source: kushandwizdom, via remoldmelord)