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The Best of 2018: 7 Articles to Remember
In 2018, we published nearly 50 articles on our blog for the purpose of sharing the stories, the mission, and the victories of the Care Center and, on a larger scale, the pro-life movement. Our team at the Care Center seeks to produce excellent work in every aspect of this ministry, and we hold our blog content to the same standard. As we enter 2019, we wanted to take the opportunity to highlight and celebrate our best articles of 2018.
How did we choose them? Actually, you chose them. Each of the articles below received the most engagement from you, our readers. If you missed any of the articles below, we hope you’ll take a few minutes to read and share them. Just click on the title or image to read the full article.
Without further ado, please enjoy GPCC’s Top 7 Articles of 2018!
Amanda realized her hand was now resting on her stomach, as if to shield the tiny life within from the danger that waited nearby. And in that moment, Amanda knew that this posture—shielding, protecting, guarding—was exactly what she was meant to do as a woman.
As a mother.
Somehow, knowing that these blue-shirted people cared about her decision made her think that maybe—just maybe—she could make a different choice.
We urged Ryan to go to his girlfriend and tell her what he told us. To get her and bring her out of that place. And that’s when it happened.
The abortion clinic experienced a power outage. Every abortion appointment that day was cancelled.
Every single one.
The humans have forgotten. They believe abortion is just one of many issues. But we know the truth—it is the issue. The Enemy’s preoccupation with using lowly and weak vessels for his purposes is sickening. From the first moment the Enemy made it clear he would use the birth of a child—of all things!—as a means to rescue his people, Our Father Below made our aim clear to us as well: Destroy them. Every. Last. One.
The bloodcurdling scream pierced the tranquility of countless shoppers. I swallowed hard and began the painstaking trek towards the automatic doors, which seemed miles away. It mightn’t have taken me so long had I not had 32 pounds of boneless deadweight to pull behind me while also holding 20 pounds of oblivious enthusiasm in my other arm.
As I stumbled along, nearby shoppers offered a variety of responses: eye rolls, disapproving glares, averted eyes, and an occasional sympathetic I’m so glad I’m not you smile. I met each gaze with a weak grin. “Don’t worry,” I said to one bystander, “He’s going to be a GREAT leader someday.”
She stepped onto the mobile unit on a Wednesday afternoon, her face coated with a sheen of sweat—whether from the heat or anxiety, we couldn’t tell. A pregnancy test. A positive result. A long, tense conversation. Reasons why it was the wrong time, the wrong place…the wrong everything. Fear and uncertainty. And yet, something was holding her back. Something didn’t feel quite right about the decision that seemed to make the most sense to her.
“It sounds like you don’t want to have an abortion.”
She fidgeted in her seat, unable or unwilling to make eye contact. As the appointment came to a close, we asked if we could pray with her.
She refused. “No, don’t do that. I’ll just start crying.”
Unsettled. Uncertain. Undecided.
But when I held baby Jordan for the first time, it was different. I was still awestruck at his beauty—the tiny, perfect features and the resemblance to his mama—but there was something more that gripped my heart that day as I held him close.
Jordan was almost aborted. Six times, actually.
“I got you flowers, Mommy!” He spun in three circles and then did a forward roll off the couch. Some people express their excitement in mere words. Others need their whole bodies plus a three-foot radius. My son falls into the latter category.
“Look at the flowers! I got them for you! Me and Daddy did!” In a matter of seconds, he perched himself on the edge of the countertop and crouched not unlike a baboon inspecting a furry friend’s back for insects. He fingered the rose petals with a gentleness I didn’t think possible, thanks to the coaching I’m sure he received from his dad.
Benjamin shifted his attention back to me. “Because,” he said, seriousness in his voice, “guh-wuls need flowers.”