It always ends happily

 Always. 

Although this article about NBA player JaVale McGee was not a pro-life write-up, but an NBA profile, it turns out happily a pro-life story.

On a Saturday morning in the spring of 1987, Pamela McGee sat on the shore at Dockweiler State Beach in Los Angeles, 72 hours from a scheduled abortion. "Do you want to be pregnant?" the counselor at the clinic had asked her. "No," McGee replied. She was a single, 24-year-old professional basketball player, and she could not take maternity leave. And even if she could, she couldn't imagine hauling an infant to Italy and parking the stroller next to the bench. But as McGee looked out over the Pacific, she began to reconsider. "I prayed and prayed and prayed and felt like I heard a voice from God," McGee says. "He was telling me, 'This is your gift.' " The next day she went to Faithful Central Bible Church in Inglewood, and the pastor delivered a sermon about not aborting one's blessings. O.K., God, McGee thought. You don't have to beat it into my head. She called the clinic to cancel, and on Jan. 19, 1988, gave birth to a boy with physical abilities that would border on the supernatural. ...

The day after last year's dunk contest in L.A., JaVale called his mother at 8 a.m. and told her he wanted to go to church. Pamela was exhausted, with only five hours sleep, and surprised. But she knew just the place. During the sermon at Faithful Central Bible, JaVale looked over at his mom, tears streaking her cheeks. "Why are you crying?" he asked. There, for the first time, Pamela told him about the clinic and the beach and the reason she cannot get all that upset about alley-oops gone awry. "For me," she told her son, "you've been such a blessing."

Today is the anniversary of the election of Pope Benedict XVI.  Here is an article by Elizabeth.  

Read.

Later that night, an exhausted Nicholas, who is four, snuggled next to me as we watched a replay of the announcement on the balcony.

"I see Benedict," he said.

"Yes," I encouraged my tender-hearted boy, "What does he look like to you?"

"He has very white hair, Nicholas observed. "And his cassock is white, too. That?s for celebration. He wears white for celebration."

I waited a moment, watching with him.

"I wonder," Nicholas said quietly, "what color his hair will be in ordinary time."

Fighting laughter, I let him wonder and watched him fall asleep. I was so grateful for our beautiful day. My children will always remember the day as one of celebration and they will always have a sense of having participated in a momentous event as members of the Universal Church. A beautiful, holy day, indeed.