Baby Charlie

For over 30 years I have been on the battle field that is stained with the blood of millions of American babies.  I have buried their dismembered bodies, and I carried a poor little aborted baby boy that we called  "Baby Charlie" all over the US in the attempt to wake up the sleeping church. He was 5 1/2 months in his mother's womb when he was brutally scalded out by saline solution.  I will never forget the first time I saw him.  I wanted to start screaming!  I fell to my knees and wept.  The young paster who got the baby from a doctor told me that he wanted me to be the caretaker of this little victim, and take him to my nation.  "NO!" I cried.  "Please, God!  Don't make me do this!" His little body was black with burns, and his little fists were clenched, but one finger was pointing out at us, as if to say,  "Where were you when they killed me?"

He was my companion as we traveled America in that motor coach.  His home was a bucket of formaldehyde.  I would wrap him in a blanket and bring him to churches and public meetings!  One pastor saw him and backed away and shouted," Gross!  Get that thing out of here!"  "Yes, he is gross to you, isn't he, pastor ?" I replied.  "His blood is on your hands and all the rest of the silent church!  I love him. No one has ever loved him until he was given into our care! He's beautiful to us, but gross to you!"  I took the scalded baby and wrapped his little blue blanket tightly around him and walked away.

 One night at a large church my friend Ruth brought him to the front of the church and handed him to me as I addressed the crowd.  He was wrapped in his little blanket, and I gently unwrapped him and introduced him to the congregation.  People began to scream, others wept, and their sobs filled the church.  People got out of their seats and laid on the floor weeping. I just stood there holding him as I wept.  After some time the people were back in their seats, and I was speaking to them, and they all started crying again.  I wasn't sure what had prompted this second round of emotion, but then I realized as I was speaking to them I was patting his little back like I patted all my babies. This was breaking the heart of the congregation.  I handed him back to Ruth, and I closed the meeting.  I went to the phone and called Harry, my husband.  I was weeping uncontrollably as I said, "We have to bury Charlie.  It's killing me! I was standing up there tonight coddling him and patting his back."

We planned his funeral in Pensacola, Florida.  He had a little casket, and he finally was getting the burial he deserved.  I had body guards there appointed by the police because of threats on my life.  FBI agents were mulling around, and of course, the news media was there. I gave the eulogy, and picked up my guitar and began to sing my song to Charlie.

As we gather here today on this very solemn day, it make me wonder why.
Have we really gone this far, or will I waken and discover that it's just a dream?
You should be lying in your bed, or snuggled in your mother's arms so tight.
Now we commit your little body to the ground, Baby Charlie.

Mr. newsman, since your here, I wonder could you shed a tear for this little boy?
On the 6 o:clock today will you push it all away, or will you tell them?
He was sentenced, but not tried; one of millions who have died without a plea.
Is their a future for a people without love, Baby Charlie?

And they chant, " It's my body! It's my life!  I'm a woman , and I have the right to choose!"
All their chanting they can save;  Just tell me who put Baby Charlie in the grave?

We must come together ; we must realize that we must take a stand!
For the blood that stains America is on our hands!
Is there not a better way than throwing little ones away? My God! There has to be!
For I can walk away from you, Baby Charlie, but I can never walk away from me.

Copyright Dovesong 1982


People were silent as we left the funeral home.  Even the hecklers were quiet as the police kept a watchful eye I as I walked through the crowd.  We drove to the cemetery, and when I saw the grave site I wept .  He was being buried between two children.  It looked like a place that was not kept up; a cemetery for the poor. "I don't want to put him here," I said through tears as my husband gripped my hand.

People silently placed flowers and teddy bears on the grave as we were leaving.  I will never begin to put in to words what I felt as we drove away.  I looked back as we pulled out of the cemetery, and I saw an old arched sign over the entrance that read, "Potter's Cemetery." "Oh, Look at the name of this place!" I cried as I strained my neck to look back as we drove out.  "It's called the Potter's Cemetery! The blood money for Jesus was used for the Potter's Field!  He was sold out for thirty pieces of silver, and Charlie was sold out in the name of choice!"  I cried all the way back to our hotel.  I continue to cry!

Years later, my friend Ruth and I returned to the cemetery.  "This isn't it," I said, as I read the name of the cemetery as we drove in. "Yes, this is the place," she said.  "No! It was called the Potter's Cemetery.  I saw the sign as we pulled out that day! I cried all the way back to the hotel over that sign," I told her.  "Well, as far as I know the cemetery has always been called by this name," she said.  " All I know is I saw the sign!  I could draw it for you!" I said.  There is no doubt in my mind to this day that I saw the old sign the read, " Potter's Cemetery."


A few years ago I was so filled with the sadness of all of the death... I was so exhausted from being on the front lines for so long that God just picked me up and told me I need a time of R and R.  I felt guilty leaving the war, but I needed rest and healing, and restoration in my own life.   The enemy of our faith did everything possible to drag me down... I won most of the battles, but I certainly lost some.  Now, as our country stands at the crossroads, I feel the hand of Jesus lifting me up again and leading back to the battle.

 This is the most important election of our life time.  The trumpet is being sounded by men and women of God all over America. It is a call of repentance. It is a call to restore our great nation!  God has been thrown out, and His name has been trampled on.  Churches preach "tolerance" instead of the blood of Jesus!  CNN and other liberal voices have tried to drown the truth, as they promote injustice and perversion.  I say ENOUGH!  Its time to take back America! Its time to get rid of every elected official whose purpose is to take this great nation down!  Its time to turn our eyes back to our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, and turn off the prime time trash, and lying news networks that hide the real news of what is really happening to this great land!  What ever happened to the patriots who cried, " Give me liberty, or give me death!" May God, our Father, resurrect that spirit in us!  I love America!  I want it back for my children, and their children, and I am willing to fight every enemy from hell to keep this great country from falling! Who is on the Lord's side?  Stand up!

In the powerful name of Jesus,

Penny Lea