By Father Jim Torpey
Her name was…I should say her name is Emily.
She is a saint. Emily’s life began, as have so many lives of children (since January 22, 1973 in America) under the threat of violence. Emily’s mother had scheduled what her “friends” assured her was “a procedure.” Emily’s mother saw an ad, read a bulletin board, saw a post card, I’m not quite sure what it was.
This I do know. Emily’s mother was moved to make a phone call. She decided, with the help of pro-life people, to give her child a chance. She made another courageous decision by allowing another family to do what she would have liked to, but could not: provide for Emily. Emily came into Doug and Lea Ann's lives at 9 weeks. She was loved deeply. Her parents took pictures, began a journal, developed hopes and dreams, shared the love that Emily’s mother had for her by reminding her that although Emily did not grow in her mommy’s belly, she flowered in her mommy’s heart. This satisfied Emily. Her dad, a Navy seaman, and mom took her from Georgia to LaMaddalena, Italy where they were stationed. As she grew, there was a sense this was a very special child.
Emily learned fluent Italian, she loved to dance, to sing, when her brother Noah and Vanya were adopted into the family she leaped for joy (and tapped her head over and over). When confronted with the question of the color of her skin, Emily was told that she and Jesus shared the same skin color. There she was, dancing in the piazza, mom could hear her singing: “Jesus and I look the same!” (my interpretation). Emily spoke to everyone: the garbage men, the stewards, the widow (that she and Noah took a little cake to at Christmas because Emily felt that she was alone, and if you know anything about widows in Italy…Emily insisted).
Strangely enough, over the last few weeks or more, Emily would ask different questions as a young child. Instead of the natural “Do you love me?”, she would ask: “Mommy, do you love Daddy?” and vice versa. “Of course, we do.” “Ah, but you must love Jesus more!” Emily would respond. What was that all about? her mom and dad would ponder.
On January 2, 2004 Emily was playing with Noah in the sunroom. After a bit of time, Noah came complaining to Lee Ann that Emily wasn’t “playing fair.” She went in, knew something was wrong. Emily was on the floor, not breathing. She was 6 years old. She would have been 7 on January 27th. Hundreds of people came to this little girl's viewing in Italy. It seemed she knew and loved everyone and they loved her.
Emily’s family came home to bury her last week. About 150 family & parishioners joined to “farewell her” at the parish family of St. Joseph/Stanislaus in Summit Hill, Pennsylvania. It was a celebration of a short life well lived! I asked her parents if they had known that this would happen in 6 short years, would they have taken Emily into their hearts and home. “Absolutely,” they responded.
I asked her family and friends to write Emily’s name on their heart. The next time that they hear a friend, politician or celebrity say, “It’s a matter of 'choice.'” Remind them that is not about “choice” but about “life.”
Abortion has a name. Her name was Emily. No, her name is Emily. She deserved this chance, as have so many others. She is a saint. Not an angel, but a saint. God bless her parents and family. May God also bless Emily’s birth mother who gave her a chance and those pro-life people who were willing to do whatever they could to make a difference one child at a time. I hope that some day her birth mother will come to know what a great gift she gave by allowing Emily the chance to dance. She danced her way into hearts!
I must admit I’m a bit envious. I never knew Emily Blazejewski in this life. I hope & pray I’ll do so in the next. As we mark each year on January 22nd, the anniversary of the beginning of the “culture of death,” I hope that you too will come to know that abortion has a name. Her name is Emily. May there be an Emily in your life.
Father Jim Torpey is the Pastor of St. Joseph and St. Stanislaus parishes in the Diocese of Allentown, Pennsylvania. Father Jim began a ministry called “We are Remembered” — a ministry for parents who lost a child to death or for anyone who mourns the passing of a family member/friend. Fr. Jim lost his only sibling who would have been 47 this past Christmas.