Our fourth baby was just a week old when she accompanied me to pick up our oldest daughter from gymnastics class. While I waited for Christine to change, two of her classmates approached and asked to see the baby. They breathed little awe-filled sighs, enthusiastically pronounced her "cool," then returned to their seats.

It was late October, and their conversation turned to Christmas wish lists. One of the girls lamented, "I told my mom that I want either a new baby brother or sister, or else peace for the whole world. And my mom told me I have a better chance of getting peace for the whole world." She sighed audibly. At that moment, I didn't feel half as sorry for the little girl as I did for her mother. Not only was this woman's heart closed to the gift of new life, but she was openly sarcastic about it toward her child.

As I write this (six years and two babies later), IÕm pondering two summer anniversaries which are but a few weeks apart: that of the promulgation of Humanae vitae in July, and the anniversary of the death of Mother Teresa in early September. What do the death of a saint and the birth of an encyclical have in common? They both have to do with the Gospel of Life.

Despite considerable opposition, Pope Paul VI proclaimed the fullness of truth about conjugal love in Humanae vitae. He prophesied that a wholesale acceptance of contraception would result not only in broken lives and marriages, but a shattered society. Mother Teresa proclaimed the Gospel of Life from the front lines of this shattered world.

Pope Paul warned us about the seeds of the culture of death, Mother Teresa gathered in the harvest: the outcast, the unloved, the abandoned. She frequently chided nations for permitting the spread of the culture of death. Among her many nuggets of wisdom are the familiar sayings "Abortion is the greatest destroyer of peace in the world today," as well as, "How can there be too many children? That is like saying there are too many flowers."

What baffles me is that even with the awful proof of the culture of death all around us, Christians are still so slow to embrace the Church's wisdom in the area of sexuality and family life. Children are the fruit of love, the flowers on the tree of matrimony, yet our birth rate continues to decline.

Not that we're in a numbers game per se - the actual size of our families is less important than openness of heart. The couple which has several children and then gets sterilized is not open. Nor is the infertile couple who refuse to accept their cross, and resort to illicit reproductive technologies in a desperate bid to produce a child.

Children are a blessing. They are neither a burden nor a commodity to which we have a 'right' of ownership. Responsibility and generosity go hand in hand, as surely as do the unitive and procreative dimensions of conjugal love. But our hearts, by and large, remain closed to this truth.

Pope John Paul II continues to proclaim the Gospel of Life, despite the derision of the world (and many of the "faithful"). We just donÕt get it. While we cry out for peace, we are no closer to ushering in the mythical Age of Aquarius. If anything, we are becoming increasingly barbaric. How else to describe a society which tolerates such practices as "compassionate murder" and partial-birth abortion?

In a message to the women of Africa, the Holy Father said, "History shows that wars are made above all by men... What can you [women] do to change this situation? No one can teach as you can the reality of respect for every human being. By educating in respect and love you teach peace and serve peace, in your families, in your countries and in the world."

My daughter's little friend wanted a new baby, or peace for the whole world. How sad that we fail to realize that our refusal to be open to the former virtually guarantees we will never achieve the latter. As the 60's folk song goes, "Where have all the flowers gone?"

Pope Paul VI and Mother Teresa, pray for us. 

Mariette Ulrich is the mother of six girls and writes from Scott, SK. Her column appears every other month.