Human Slaughter House; my first trip

The bodies leave the facility in a waste management truck. “People don’t even bury their dogs that way,” an experienced friend tells me. The people come in brand new cars, old cars; some with out of state plates. They see a problem and they want to get rid of it. They go inside this building with their heads down; they know the shame.

 

A couple sits outside eating a bagel. How they have an appetite I don’t know. The smell from inside is a smell one can’t forget. The smell of death. The Veteran talks to them. Tells them of the evil inside that house. Tells them of the hope in Jesus Christ. Tells the man he is a coward for bringing his woman there. Tells him he is a coward for not protecting her. He had a wedding band on his finger. They were a young couple. She looked like she was in school. Not enough money for an addition to the family? Too early for a child? She wants a career? She wants to work and use her degree before she has children? What is their excuse? We don’t know. Whatever it is, it is not legitimate.

 

I watched a car pull out of the driveway and stop near the entrance. I could say nothing. A woman came out, lethargic, needing the assistance of her ‘man’ to walk. It was done. This little human slaughtered, her insides ruined, her emotions scarred…the car drives away. Margaret Sanger won. Another black baby gone.

 

A new car comes rolling out of the driveway. The passenger tries to keep her head high while she looks at me while I am holding a little life that they cannot have anymore because it was sliced up and vacuumed out. The car turned onto the road and sped away, like a bat out of hell.

 

Two ladies out for a cigarette. You can tell who is there for the slaughter. These women wear either a dress, spandex, or sweats. They say, “You are making people hate Christianity and your God.” The seasoned Veteran says, “You already hate God, ma’m.” The other woman says, “I know Jesus. I am going to serve Him by hanging out with orphans in Africa.” I don’t remember if this was before or after she used His Holy Name in vain. “You can’t change my mind.” If only she knew that in herself she could not change her mind even if she wanted to.

 

It is God who hardens hearts. It is God who softens hearts. It is God who calls. It is God who chooses His chosen ones.

 

The Veteran says that without the promise of God’s sovereignty, he couldn’t keep coming back. “But maybe the Lord will open one more person’s eyes,” he says. Such faith in Christ alone! This Veteran knows that it is not he who does anything. It is God who moves in this pit of hell.

 

About Nicole Leaman

Nicole Leaman is a wife and mother of two daughters. With a degree in Criminal Justice, she actively blogs about social matters regarding women and culture.

Leave a Reply