Michelle Obama and Unconditional Love
I stayed up last night to watch the First Lady’s speech. It intrigues me to study how people think, especially people I disagree with. Sometimes it is possible to follow a logical path and clarify where disagreement begins and ends, sometimes I just want to know how bad it is, which is usually when I need my husband to put his hand over my mouth before I…never mind.
So, I sat there propped up in the bed with a glass of Rex-Goliath Giant 47 Pound Rooster Free Range Red and a sleeping toddler next to me to see what the First Lady of the Free World had to say as I waited for my husband to finish up his end-of-the day rituals. Here’s one particular smashery of logic and language that just gets my goat every single time.
She used that lovely phrase unconditional love. I — a Catholic mother who scrubs, chases, sweats, lectures, and pleads for mercy when the truckload of kids and piles of laundry finally break me each day — take that term seriously. In the abortion debate no one who thinks abortion is acceptable is allowed to use that term. In this day and age of political correctness, is it too much to insist on verbal correctness too? Words mean things.
But when Barack started telling me about his family – that’s when I knew I had found a kindred spirit, someone whose values and upbringing were so much like mine.
You see, Barack and I were both raised by families who didn’t have much in the way of money or material possessions but who had given us something far more valuable – their unconditional love, their unflinching sacrifice and the chance to go places they had never imagined for themselves.
Her family gave her unconditional love? Really? It’s true, children are incapable of earning the love of their parents, and love should be given to them without limit, without being subject to any conditions or stipulations. It should be absolute and complete. That term demands no compromise. To place a condition on being loved, is to destroy the notion of unconditional love altogether. It is impossible for a parent to say, “I love my children unconditionally, but only if I want them.” Being wanted is a condition.
If she’s so grateful for the unflinching sacrifice and the chance to go places she never imagined that her family gave her, why then, does she think that mothers in America today shouldn’t do the same for their children? That is exactly what abortion advocate after dissonant abortion advocate stands for – the denial of unflinching sacrifice and unconditional love. Dismembering the tiniest and most defenseless of the children you deem unworthy of life is not an act of love.
So the First Lady and her husband may be kindred spirits with the same values, but they have left behind the upbringing they claimed influenced their early lives together (which is contested). It’s no secret that both stand for abortion, but they have both failed to bring those virtues that they credit for their success into the present administration.
By the time she finished telling about their personal struggles, people were in tears. It was with no small chill down my tired spine that I heard the biggest eruption of applause of the whole speech.
And he believes that women are more than capable of making our own choices about our bodies and our health care … that’s what my husband stands for.
I watched to the end, through language about how this country was built by sacrifice, how the country is so “special,” how she wants to give our children a “foundation for their dreams,” and “that sense of limitless possibility,” and “that belief that here in America, there is always something better out there if you’re willing to work for it.” I listened right up to the, “Thank you, God bless you, and God bless America.”
How can you say that when you don’t believe all children even have a right to be born? When you pick and chose which victims matter and which ones don’t?
I clicked off the television, scooped up my baby boy in the quiet of the night with my husband finally exhausted and sleeping next to me, all our children sprawled over each other in their beds (or somewhere in the house), and I said a prayer that America would not be punished with another four years of this powermongering nonsense. If we are, then I take some comfort at least in knowing that my children will know what that term means, and if they dare abuse it as adults to try to justify something evil, they’ll have a mother with her finger so pointed in their face, their eyes’ll cross.
Because I love them, unconditionally.