I am in favor of the parental notification bill because of the irreparable damage I experienced due to the decisions I made as a minor. When I was 17 years old, I determined that I was mature enough to make my own decisions, and didn’t need my parents’ advice on how to live my life.
Mr. Chair, members of the committee, for the record my name is Jennifer Eastberg. I am a LCSW, been have been in the mental health field over twelve years and I am currently in private practice.
I would never have thought that I'd be sitting here with "Jane Roe" and "Mary Doe," the two people that in 1973 we thought were responsible for this disaster of abortion in our country.
The first time 7-year-old Emily Bausch met Norma McCorvey, she had no idea she had come face to face with an icon of the pro-abortion movement—”Jane Roe” of Roe v. Wade. To Emily, “Miss Norma” was just another person who needed Jesus.
“I wanted Miss Norma to become a Christian so she wouldn’t go to hell,” Emily told Citizen.
Emily’s mother, Ronda Mackey, is the office manager for Operation Rescue’s (OR) national headquarters in Dallas. Mackey takes daughters Emily and Chelsey, 4, to the office with her.
When I was 17, I found myself apart from my family, involved in an unhealthy relationship with a man and pregnant-which was something I didn’t want to think about or deal with.
We who follow Christ sometimes have to face realities that make us uncomfortable—this is one of those times. We must not allow our discomfort to keep us from facing the truth, from coming to terms with God’s Word. So let’s give each other permission to be uncomfortable. The hurt we experience today will be the beginning of healing.
The idea for the Memorial Rose Garden was birthed in the hearts of Dave and Audrey Stout after Audrey had visited the National Memorial to the Unborn in Tennessee.
I cringe to think of those who will stand before the Almighty having prided themselves in the killing of children.
I am not a brave person. More often than not, when God has a difficult assignment for me, I pull a Moses: “I can’t, Lord!...why me???” Recently He gave me a chance to stretch a little... I needed a root canal. To put it mildly, I wasn’t thrilled at the prospect. Yet I made the appointment, knowing I didn’t really have a reasonable alternative.
It’s like the tip of an iceberg, a sharp, damaging, external protrusion that, no matter how much pain it inflicts, only represents the much bigger problem beneath the surface. What is so fierce that it can sink the seemingly hardiest of men, or at least flood a chamber of his heart and debilitate him for life? Abortion.
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