Steve Jobs and One Christmas Eve

No, this isn't a post about the cool Apple products I own.  In fact, I do not own any Apple products, though my daughter has an old iPod that she loves.  But I have always admired Apple products.  Instead, this is a blatant pro-life post.

By now, most people have read his story, along with his birth mother's story, and the story of his adoption as well as his path to success.  If you haven't, do so here; it's beautiful.  And it reminds me of a Christmas eve back in the 80s...

I was working at a medical laboratory, a BIG one, in the accessioning department.  In case you have not heard of such an occupation, accessioners are the first folks who sort the specimens when they arrive from doctors' offices.  Basically, the doctors leave the specimens in a lock box (you've seen them outside closed offices), and drivers from the various labs collect the specimens and bring them to the lab where accessioners send tubes of blood, bottles of urine, and specimens of other sorts to the appropriate departments for testing.

I worked evenings with some fun people.  There was always music.  We took breaks in the garage and laughed and joked with the drivers.  Most of the drivers were men, and many had interesting pasts.  Some were divorced dads working nights so they could spend days with their kids.  Some were recently paroled prisoners.  Many were immigrants.  They were always quick with a joke, or a story of traffic, life, or family stuff.

Those of us who were young and without children worked with a small skeleton crew on holidays so our coworkers could be with their families.  One Christmas eve, I volunteered to work with a few of the twenty-somethings until midnight.  Work was light, and we played Christmas carols, and shared our plans for the next day.  We were surprised when one of our favorite drivers, "Louie," came in crying.  Louie was an immigrant, right "off the boat" as they say, from Italy.  He did not speak much English, and we were never really sure he knew what was going on, or what we were all gabbing about.  On that Christmas eve though, he figured something out.  He brought in boxes of large bottled "specimens" that night, and through his tears we heard names as he gestured towards them.  "Einstein!" he cried in his thick Italian accent, adding vowels as needed to the end of each phrase. "Edison!  Galileo!  Tesla!  The babies!!  On Christmas!!"  He broke down; we suddenly understood every word.

The "specimens" he had brought in on Christmas Eve, were called "POC" on the forms we filled out--Product of Conception.  Louie had just had an epiphany that night (and so did I, and several friends):  As a driver for that lab, he was collecting aborted fetuses from "clinics" and delivering them for examination, so the lab could assure doctors they had gotten it all.  He was crying for the lost geniuses. He was crying for souls. He was crying for the mothers who would do such a thing. He was crying for the love and mercy of God on Christmas eve.

I imagine that Louie might add "Jobs!" to his cries if he were driving tonight.  But Jobs, Einstein, Galileo, and Tesla all lived to enhance our knowledge, change the world, and make our lives better.  The babies aborted that Christmas Eve were not so lucky.  Maybe a Steve Jobs was aborted that day.  Or, maybe just a Louie.  Either way, our world lost someone wonderful that Christmas Eve; may they all rest in peace.