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Inktober Day 12

Posted by AdventVoice - October 12th, 2018

Every year we have Hurricanes in the area in which I live. Every year the storms rage, flood roads, and carry away access to electricity. We have to run a generator, which drinks gasoline like a whale, just to have energy to keep the food cold.

We’ve learned to speak to the wind and keep it back with our fervent prayers for peace.

When your backs against the wall and all of your ingenuity fails you, prayer becomes a very real-life line. Every time the storm comes, I wonder to myself, “Why can’t we be like the whale, who seems to be able to feel the surge rise and no matter how turbulent the sea becomes, he can sail?”

Phrases like: “There is nothing new under the sun,” disturb me because I feel I have so much left to learn and I don’t want to leave an explanation to supposition.

The passing of my daughter hurt so bad and because I am a man, I feel, as much as a whale does. Did you know that? Did you know a whale does not procreate like the fish, which passes over a nest of eggs and seemingly devises no connection with its surroundings? Where the fish lives on instinct, the whale lives on intent and determines its mate and with its shaft connects to the one who will carry his child.

 If a whale dies, the group mourns. As I am made to mourn now for my own.

I thought it was interesting, a whale is not to be confused with a fish-eyed being with a cold heart. It pulsates and deliberates. It challenges the storms that come and can hold them at bay.

“How much grit will it take to achieve the stamina of a whale, how deep will I have to immerse my memories of past failures before I can be assured of my worth?”  

@OrphanedAnnie blessed me today by holding me up in her prayers. She is a gorgeous fifty-three-year-old woman who sometimes feels she is not the best to give advice.

I could relate because since 2005, when the #MarchAgainstAutism began, I never thought to speak to anyone about it on twitter or any social media platform. I marched, sure, I joined the crowds and bellowed like those around me at the disgust of those who with fish-like minds, thought doing anything other than caring for a child “made,” sick by one vile attempt at “population-control,” and seeking a solution to the epidemic.

Instead of diving into neurological research, doctors encouraged families to abort, terminate, put up for adoption, foster care, anything but salvage.

No insurance was allowable.

Can you imagine, I am made to wonder how many ignored this whale in the room, when it came time to bury their loved ones, because the child was deemed DOA. No insurance company would approve to cover the cost of burial for an autistic child.

Twitter came about much later, so there is no mention of others that had to deal with a whale of an issue like an autistic child. It did run parallel with arguments of abortion. Interesting enough I have never heard of families justifying abortion under the guise of fear of giving birth to an autistic child; or because a child could be weak genetically. It is better to terminate pregnancy.  Is just not suggested or mentioned because when the child is born and is healthy it is not until the 6th month are vaccines induced. None go around giving 18 different medicines into one vial, claiming: government regulation; World Health Organization preventative by cocktail treatment.

In the case of my daughter, the doctors coerced all involved, despite my protest of such action and requests of “gradual vaccine,” induction. Coerced under the consoling of doctors who would say, “The vaccines are benign and not known to cause sickness, side effects occur in extreme cases, if the child is healthy and strong, the worse that can happen, is a mild fever, that can be combated if she stays hydrated. While her body “transitions.”

She was healthy, she did not overcome.