Go ahead. Make my choice.

This weekend, as the anniversary of the Roe vs Wade decision is remembered, people will talk about their right to a "choice." Jill Stanek wants us to ask them what they mean when they say "choice." We hear people talk about that word as if we should all know what it means, and we do. But if the right to terminate the life of someone not yet born by way of legalized abortion is so sacrosanct, why can't people just say the word?

Imagine how it would be if some of us were as completely unashamed of the word as we claim to be ...

"Yeah, I love abortion. I'm all for it. I had three abortions, and I don't regret any of them. I want free abortions for everybody, and I want someone else to pay for them, so that I don't have to. In fact, I wish my mother had aborted me, I love abortion that much."

... but we won't hear anything remotely like that, because when it comes down to it, everyone involved in abortion, whether it's the counselor who persuades the young girl that she really (and ironically) doesn't have any other "choice," the doctor who provides it and profits from it, the leaders of Planned Parenthood who get one-third of their budget from our taxes for it, or the "personally-opposed-but-ardent-Catholic-anyway" politician who supports it, or the weak-kneed prelate who cannot bring himself to deny Communion to such public figures who desecrate the Body of Christ by their actions -- deep down, in their heart of hearts, they all know they're wrong. Dead wrong.

The most atrocious instances of man's inhumanity to man in the last century, were actions which began with a similar form of denial. What horror there is, to gaze into the reflection in the mirror, and witness the depths of the abyss that awaits those who propagate evil.

Or even stand by and watch without a care.