1917, the movie… my thoughts in less than a hundred words

This…

 

 

 

 

 

 

movie……

 

 

 

 

is…..

 

 

 

 

 

 

freaking…..

 

 

 

 

amazing.

 

 

 

Cancel other plans.

 

 

 

 

 

Go watch it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Thank me later.

 

 

 

 

-Out of the Wilderness

Right to Life vs. Pro-Choice… A Personal Discovery About Abortion

I know where I stand but this post isn’t one that will try to convince you to believe what I believe. I’d just simply like to write down something I thought of and began researching last week. First, though, I’ll point out the strongest argument for both sides, whether pro-choice or pro-life. 


Pro-Life…
I’m starting with pro-life because this argument will set up what pro-choice supporters use most often as their strongest argument. A pro-lifer will say that the fetus, usually beginning right at conception, is a human being, or at the very least, will be. This newly formed being has the right to life, just like everyone else.


Pro-Choice…
The defense against the pro-life stance above is simple. This newly formed fetus is not a human. It’s part of the woman, therefore the woman has the right to decide what to do with her body…. which is where “My body, my choice,” comes from. 


If you’ve been part of a discussion with someone who doesn’t support your views on the matter, you certainly know that it will go back and forth for who knows how long… each side presenting why they think they’re right and the other is wrong. 

I don’t know how often or at what rate anyone flip flops on their beliefs because both sides (pro-life and pro-choice) seem to be pretty well hunkered down in their respective camps. The fundamental difference is one side doesn’t see the fetus as a “human life” and the other side does. To argue that abortion is murder as a way to change someone’s mind will not work because pro-choice folks don’t think it’s a human, therefore it can’t be murder. 
That would then beg the question, “When does life begin?” I think both sides answering this question honestly with an open mind, perhaps backed by science if possible, would help with some sort of compromise. Compromise isn’t necessarily the best solution, but at least it can take the hurtful rhetoric down a notch or two. Finding some kind of common ground on this question is the only way the two sides will ever stop arguing, short of a miraculous revelation from Heaven. 

In society today, the most popular mantra on the pro-choice side is this, “My body, my choice,” or “her body, her choice.” This is the idea that no one else has a say about what goes on in a woman’s body except for her and maybe her doctor. To counteract this, pro-life people will ask if the woman has 2 heads, or 20 toes, 20 fingers, and so on. They’re pointing out that the fetus, within a month of conception, is forming a head, fingers, toes, arms, legs, etc. 

It’s widely believed that a fetus has its own DNA within hours of conception, therefore while it’s dependent on the mother, it is not the mother. If this isn’t strong enough evidence, let’s think about blood for a second. I did some research on common blood types A, B, and O. What I found extremely interesting was about early discoveries of blood transfusions. To set it up, we all know if a person needs a blood transfusion and this person has type A blood, they need a donor with type A blood. Someone who is type B would need a type B donor. But a little over 100 years ago (late 1800s) this matching of blood types was not happening because the differences hadn’t been discovered yet. There was a need for this discovery though, because blood transfusions had a terrible track record up to this point. Why? Well, as it turns out, mixing blood types is deadly. A type A person cannot receive type B blood and expect to live. In the mid- to late-1800s the medical community actually shunned transfusions because of this high risk of death. 

As all of this new information was squeezing into my brain, and undoubtedly pushing other information out (if I forget your birthday this year, this is why!), I began to connect the discoveries of blood types to the fetus in a mother’s womb. 

Did you know that it’s possible for a baby to have a different blood type than the mother? I also discovered that a fetus has his or her own blood running through their tiny body roughly 21 days after conception. That’s only 3 weeks! So remember what was discovered about transfusions over a hundred years ago, blood types cannot mix or else there is a high risk of death? This is also true in pregnancy! If the blood of either the mother or fetus were to mix, both would most likely die from it. Enter the placenta. This critical organ serves as a two-way filter between mother and baby. Among other things, it keeps the mother’s blood from getting to the baby, and the baby’s blood from getting to the mother. 
Fascinating, right? 

Now going back to the strongest arguments from the pro-choice side, “My body, my choice,” and the fetus not being a human… these must be complete falsehoods because one person cannot have 2 blood types in their body. This fetus/baby is a separate human being  with its own DNA, it’s own blood, and that is the only possible scenario. I believe this newly formed human has the right to life, as stated in the Declaration of Independence… 

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.


Like I said earlier, I’m not trying to change your mind. I just wanted to record in writing something that has solidified my stance even more that we are supposed to speak on behalf of those who can’t yet… in this case, the unborn baby. 

Thanks for stopping by!

-Out of the Wilderness

 

I leave the toilet seat up, and she hates it

I thought today was a good day to come clean about my stereotypical male behavior. After I use the restroom, I do not, I repeat… I DO NOT put the toilet set down when I leave. Does that make me a horrible person?

So sue me! But I’ve learned the hard way that this social faux pas is necessary in my household. To set you up with the full story, you need to know I live alone. Well, no other humans. I have 2 dogs named Piper and Asia. They are little rascals but they are my buddies. Asia is a tomboy, tough, but snuggly. Piper is a queen, tough, and adorable. But it’s because of Piper that I have to be this way. I have to leave the seat top up in the bathroom.

Too many times when I don’t hear anything after Piper wanders from one room to another, I fear the worst. The worst meaning that she’s snooped somewhere she knows not to. It could be a friends backpack, purse, pulling a loaf of bread off the shelf, but with the restroom environment, 100% of the time she wrestles with the roll of toilet paper.

The toilet paper never wins.

So now if you walk into my bathroom, you’ll see a toilet paper stand where the toilet paper should be. Then on the back of the toilet, you’ll notice that’s actually where the tissue is. Why? Because anywhere else is fair game for Miss Piper. You’d think having it on the back of the toilet is safe, right? I thought so, too, but we were wrong.

Piper has been known to jump up onto the toilet seat lid and start a fight with the toilet paper there. And like I said, she wins every time! So now I leave the seat lid up and so far she hasn’t figured out a way to get to her arch nemesis. She soon will, I feel sure of this. Then I’ll have to move the toilet paper farther away. Is there toilet paper with a scent of shampoo? That may do the trick!

-Out of the Wilderness

Peanut butter, you’re the peanut butter to my jelly. A poem.

Peanut butter!

Where is my peanut butter?

There it is, there’s my peanut butter.

Where is it now?

Over there?

No.

Over here?

No. Under there!

Under where?

It’s over by the candle.

All the goodness I can handle.

I put it on my sandwich.

I put it on bananas.

I’ll eat it in Ohio…

…and in Alabama.

Oh no! Where’d it go?

Peanut butter, peanut butter.

Where are you?

I want to be your friend…

…and take you to the store.

You can be the DJ…

…once I buckle you in.

Even when you’re crunchy…

…you’re awfully smooth.

Join me for breakfast, lunch, dinner…

…there are no rules.

When we’re together, I’m in a good mood.

Peanut butter, peanut butter…

…I love you.

-Out of the Wilderness

Single-car accident in front of my house entertained me for almost an hour. Am I a bad person?

 

I was eating lunch at the dining room table and heard a loud pop. If you’ve been keeping up with my blog, you might think this pop was a gun shot like this story from a few weeks ago, but it wasn’t.

IMG_20200205_131446

As you can see, there was commotion on the street in front of my house. Apparently the driver of the gray car struck the “speed hump ahead” sign and spun around and came to a rest across the street in my neighbor’s yard.

My first reaction was to go out to help. My follow-up thought was… “…but how?” I envisioned going out there, chatting with the guy, then realizing I literally can’t do anything and walking away embarrassed. Because of an embankment and muddy grass, someone would have to tow him out of the yard. He needs a truck. I don’t have one. He needs a tow rope. I don’t have one.

So instead of being a Good Samaritan, my guilty pleasure yesterday was just observing everything that went on. Lord, forgive me! I counted a total of 5 civilians and 1 police officer that came onto the scene to help. Two or three were friends or family of the driver, and one was my neighbor who happened to have a truck and a tow rope. My neighbor, the Good Samaritan.

I concluded that sometimes it’s OK to let someone else be the hero.

-Out of the Wilderness