Celebration of the 100th Post on Stella Matutina! 

Ok...This is a bit strange (and not exactly in the spirit of Stella Matutina,) but this story is worth sharing. Click here to read about beer thieves.

Mandatory abortion in Holland? What have we become?

The Supreme Court Debates Abortion

Check out the story here.

Why carry a dying child?

Post-Natal Abortion 

Loved for her virtue.

Commander In Chief 

A Murder Weapon

Have a Happy Mid-Winter Break, Everyone! 

6th Week of Life 

Please, Mommy, have courage. Give me the greatest gift of all; life! I'll play pretend and have an invisible friend. I'll beg you to sing to me and rock me to sleep at night. You can read me stories about dragons and fairies and magical lands. When I cry, no one will be able to comfort me like you. If I skin my knee, your kiss will heal the pain. I'll love you forever. You're my mom!

Daddy, be my hero! You have the chance to destroy what you see as a mistake, a burden. But this burden has your eyes and has Mommy's nose. This burden, I, will want to be just like you. You can come to my baseball games. Watch me win just for you. You can give me advice about girls, and be my best man. Daddy, you can pace with me in the waiting room when my wife bears your grandson who'll want to be just like me. And I will be the hero, the protector, the provider for my family that you are for me. Protect me, Daddy. I love you!

Happy Valentine's Day! From OraProNobis.

Hey, Baby, you're a gift from God! Don't let anyone tell you otherwise!

Many parents will testify: children with down syndrome are little miracles. If your baby receives the diagnosis of down syndrome, don't despair! Keep and love your bundle of giggles and coos.

Baby Rowan. You can read his story at http://www.lc.org/ProLife/Babies_other.htm 

This little baby's name is Rowan. He was aborted alive at 23 weeks gestation at an abortion mill in Florida and left to die while his mother screamed and pleaded with the doctors to help him. This is abortion. The saying rings true: "Pro-Choice: that's a lie! Babies never choose to die!"  

"Now, who's in my chair?" 

Platypus 

Love your son from the moment of his conception! Watch him grow! Witness the amazing miracle of life!

OraProNobis accused of being a chutzpah? How could this be? Me? heh... 

Sigh....decisions, decisions.....Should OraProNobis go to Calvin College or Catholic University? 

Day of wrath, O Day of mourning!
Earth to ashes now returning!
Gather, by the millions, burning!
Cleansed at last by cataclysm
Butchered rhyme and battered rhythm,
Neopagan narcissism!
On that day, Lord, when thou comest,
And our dreadful hymnals thumbest,
Smite the ugliest and dumbest.
Smite them, Lord, yet of thy pity
Take their songsters to thy city:
Even Haugen, Haas, and Schutte.
Spare them on the stern condition
That they feel a true contrition
for the Worship III edition.
Doom them not to loss and ruin
While the darker storm is brewing!
They knew not what they were doing.
On that day when Palestrina
Dare not touch a celestina,
What will Sister Ballerina?
With thine eyes that pierce like lances
Still her heathen silly dances
And her flirting with Saint Francis.
Purge us of the prim and prissy,
Ditties fit for Meg or Missy,
Not for Francis, but a sissy.
Cantors who thought nothing grander
Than a sheaf of propaganda
Writ like office memoranda,
Raise them to thy room to bide in
Where their hearts and ears may widen
To the strains of Bach and Haydn.
Let their hearts within them falter,
Hearing, as they near thine altar,
Seraphs sing the Scottish Psalter.
Seize those devils set to pen a
Hymnal neutered of its men-ah,
Fling 'em all to black Gehenna!
Fling them one and all to mangle
Their pronominals, and wrangle
Lest a participle dangle!
Who held manhood in derision,
Preaching double circumcision,
Suffer now their own revision.
Though the songs of Hell are naughty,
None by Handel or Scarlatti,
At the least they'll have castrati.
Pitch, O Lord, the bald and raucous
Slogans of a leftist caucus
Down to Sheol, or Secaucus!
Save their singers, though: restore 'em
To a silent sweet decorum,
Saecula per saeculorem.
Various are the throngs of heaven:
Some were lump, and some were leaven,
Some as lame as six or seven.
When the demons hear thy curses,
And this world's dense fog disperses,
Heal the hobbled-not their verses.
Hush me too, Lord, when I grumble:
In thy mercy make me humble,
Lest On Turkey's Wings I stumble.
Though Haugen sing "Hosea" evermore,
Save me, I pray-but keep me near the door. Amen.