June 16, 2014

As I begin another week of fighting for the lives of our unborn children, I’m reminded of a letter I wrote to President Obama in September of last year.  I deal with numbers in my occupation and I deal with numbers in my mission to end abortion.  If I screw up my day job, my company loses money and I could lose my job.  If I fail at my night job, thousands of innocent children will continue to die every day.  I don’t lose sleep over my day job, but I lie awake at night wondering how I can do a better job serving the world’s unborn children.

I feel a connection to the world’s unborn children and feel compelled to stop the senseless killing of them.  If this means I’m seen as crazy in the eyes of some, so be it.  The following letter, written on Sept. 18 of last year, is one in a long series of letters to the worst President in my lifetime.


The White House

1600 Pennsylvania Ave.  NW

Washington, D.C.  20500

Attn:    President Barack Obama

 September 18, 2013

 Mr. President:

As part of my job I work with numbers all day; some really big numbers. At night, after I’ve finished working at my day job, the job that pays my bills, I punch-in for my night job; working to end abortion.  Unfortunately, I work with some really big numbers on my night job too; 56,000,000 babies killed since 1973, 3,300 killed every day, 1 killed every 26 seconds.  Mr. President, these numbers haunt me, and should horrify anyone who sees them.  Every one of these numbers represents a dead child; a child that was killed because now wasn’t the right time to have a baby, or because it had Down syndrome, or because the young mother didn’t want to disappoint her parents, or a myriad other choices that all required an unborn child to be killed.

Mr. President, my night job, an unpaid position, is the most rewarding job I’ve ever had.  I don’t have to worry about a budget or meeting a payroll.  I don’t have to deal with disgruntled employees or pinheads from the IRS.  Most people working 2 jobs dread checking in for the night shift.  I think about my night job all day and can’t wait to get started every night.  My night job is a labor of love and the only result I will accept is the sound of doors locking for the last time at Planned Parenthood and every abortion mill in America.

Mr. President, I take it personally every time another child dies at the hands of an abortionist.  I feel that I failed to protect every child that died today.  I’m committed to saving every child scheduled to die tomorrow, and tomorrow I’ll check in committed to save the ones scheduled to die the following day. Sir, every unborn child killed today was a member of my family and yours. Every frightened, confused mother entering an abortion clinic is intrinsically bound to you and me.

Mr. President, although I love my night job, I dream of the last night I’ll ever have to do it. I dream of a world that welcomes every new child as the gift that every one is.  I dream of the day I can relax and read a book instead of writing letters to you and the pro-abortion crowd.  And I dream of a world where the only mention of abortion is in a history book detailing liberalism’s last 100 years of failed policies.

The 3,300 American children who were killed today died in a country where the value of a human life has been set at the price an abortion mill will charge to kill a human being. Most of them died as a simple matter of convenience and were seen as an unwanted problem, not a living human being.

Tomorrow America’s abortion mills will open for business and the killing will continue.  Tomorrow night I’ll clock-in, more determined than ever to end the killing.

Mr. President, my letters to you are published on my pro-life blog at www.prolifepoppop.com.  Reply to one of them and I’ll publish it, unedited.

cc: Planned Parenthood


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