A Sad Christmas Story

I remember Ian Agnew at Christmas. Every time I pass his house on Murray Drive I am reminded of unbearable sadness.

Ian and Rena had to wait a long time before they were blessed with a child. One Saturday night, at family skate a the community centre, I saw them skating around and around leisurely and happily. Each holding the hand of the little six year old girl between them. She was dressed like the beloved little doll she obviously was. Her rosy-cheeked little face encircled in white fluffy fur.

At around ten years old, weeks before Christmas, she became ill with a virulent form of measles. They took her down to Sick Kids. Within days she was gone. They came home with empty arms to a dark house, an unlit Christmas tree with presents gathered underneath for a child who would never come home again.

I saw them now and again out walking swinging hands together, engrossed in each other,oblivious to the world.

At the Community Centre one night in the back row,I was watching my son Andrew's hockey game. Ian was there hanging over the railing. He saw me and came over.

For more than an hour he talked to me about the trip he took to Scotland with his wee lassie, the summer before. She was introduced to all her Scottish relatives. He rented a car and together they went to all the places he always wanted to see but never had.

He was so grateful for that time they had, just the two of them.

I heard later he and Rena adopted an older child. I don't know how that worked out.

Ian retired and I saw him going up and down Murray Drive between his house and the house of a couple of elderly neighbour ladies. He cut the grass in the summer and shovelled the driveway in the winter.

Rena died of cancer. Ian eventually took another wife. Then he died too.

Now every time I drive past the house I think of them, especially at Christmas.

A couple of weeks ago I saw a story in the Star with a headline about lifestyle and twins.

A professional couple waited until they were established in their careers before
starting a family. When their first child was a suitable age, they decided it was time for a second.

They learned to their dismay, the second pregnancy was twins.They took the action available to them and had one of the twins destroyed.

I started reading the story because I have twin great-grandchildren and know something of what it's like having twins and remembering our surprise and delight when we learned they were on the way.It was the headline that attracted me

As the Star feature unfolded I realized it was a horror story.

My position on abortion has been ambivalent over the years. I would never do it myself. I would not advise anyone to take that path. But I would not judge anyone for making that decision.

I've changed my mind. The professionals who decided there was no place in their lives for their own child and had it destroyed are not natural humans.

The Star writer learned from the medical professionals who provide the service, the decision to destroy a fetus because a child does not fit into the planned designer lifestyle of its parents is not unusual and is in fact common practice.

Christmas is about celebrating the Birth of a Child.It's about gathering our children around us and doing whatever it takes to show appreciation for the blessings we enjoy.

So this year, gather them closer. Make sure they know they are loved and cherished. Because unnatural forces are around us would have them believe otherwise.