For now, here are two more of my own experiences from the vigil this past spring. i'm posting this on my daughter's 15th birthday - my "crisis pregnancy" - my blessing, my heart, my girl.
i was 19, terrified, unmarried - my Father was eternal, faithful and full of love.
He hears us... He sees us... He has compassion on us.
May He use her precious "unplanned" life - to bring Himself glory.
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Life is Love - x3
The view from the corner of that sidewalk is now familiar to me as we stand and stamp our feet to keep the cold at bay.
It's colder today than either of the other days i've gone - like there's a bite in the end of March air.
i got a comment on my blog the other day suggesting i should mind my own business... & i'm sure that's a sentiment that others share- so i'll share my response here -
yeh, i get where you're coming from, anonymous - but the problem is that we do have a responsibility to stand up for the weak and defenseless- in this case - the teeny vulnerable unborn ones. i really believe that the mama's are vulnerable too - & if they were aware that there is a support system for them to choose better; many of them would. To look the other way in their moment of anguish would - in my eyes - be unloving...
i care about women in crisis - hey... i *was* a woman in crisis at one point. Praying for them - on a cold sidewalk in March as they go through what could be the scariest day of their lives is the least i can do.
It's colder today than either of the other days i've gone - like there's a bite in the end of March air.
i got a comment on my blog the other day suggesting i should mind my own business... & i'm sure that's a sentiment that others share- so i'll share my response here -
yeh, i get where you're coming from, anonymous - but the problem is that we do have a responsibility to stand up for the weak and defenseless- in this case - the teeny vulnerable unborn ones. i really believe that the mama's are vulnerable too - & if they were aware that there is a support system for them to choose better; many of them would. To look the other way in their moment of anguish would - in my eyes - be unloving...
i care about women in crisis - hey... i *was* a woman in crisis at one point. Praying for them - on a cold sidewalk in March as they go through what could be the scariest day of their lives is the least i can do.
times 4
& maybe you're getting sick of these posts... but i feel a prompting in my spirit that despite my discomfort, i should write about these visits i make to 5th Ave.
The sun was out - i took off my hat and turned my face to the sky to soak in it's warmth. For the first time, the sidewalk was full. The court injunction states that a maximum of 4 people are allowed to gather on the sidewalk across the street from the clinic. If more than 4 gather, they can stand half way across a small playground just beyond a set of power poles. We glance across the playground and see a solitary figure standing there too - with the breeze gently blowing her pink scarf.
For some reason this makes me cry.
My friend carries her baby daughter in a sling, and we begin to make our way across the park to join the woman who prays there, but the huddle of grey haired ladies praying their rosaries call to us, offering us their place on the dryer sidewalk.
There is no chill to ward off, so we don't walk... we stand and pray, and in the holy hush of the city sidewalk... i feel my Father's presence, and can't help but worship my God with the sun and sky painting this house of prayer, and the still small voice bidding me to come.
Minutes tic by... i hear baby coos and sucks as miracle chews on her hand, and nestles into her mama to avoid the bright sunlight. i glance back and my friend's face is upturned, eyes closed in prayer as a tiny pink fist escapes a white blanket and waves in the sunlight.
Two couples stand out for me today - it's the first time that i saw something like this, and it has left me unsettled. A police man stood just at the corner, pulling in speeding motorists, but he didn't stop the small family that j-walked across the street to the abortion clinic. The young mama was falling behind, so the daddy came back to pick up the wee one to hurry her along. He ran ahead of her, calling over his shoulder for her to come... and she seemed to me - to be taking her time. He opened the door, hurrying her in - and followed where we couldn't see them anymore. Soon, he reappeared carrying the little bundled one in his arms and ran back across the street to his waiting vehicle. i didn't see her again. The second one that sticks in my mind... & maybe it was my skewed perspective, but again, i don't think she wanted to go in... A man got out of his vehicle and stood on the walkway in front of their vehicle. He motioned for her to come, and when she didn't, he made an angry gesture with his arms and yelled at her, "COME ON!!" Finally, slowly, her car door opened... and she slouched into the clinic...
& i find myself praying to the Father who isn't restricted by a court ordered bubble zone. His Holy Presence can walk through the code locked doors of that brown building - and tenderly croon to His hurting lambs.
Women, men, families - our country and the world at large... We can do better than abortion. Those women deserve better than our silence.
The sun was out - i took off my hat and turned my face to the sky to soak in it's warmth. For the first time, the sidewalk was full. The court injunction states that a maximum of 4 people are allowed to gather on the sidewalk across the street from the clinic. If more than 4 gather, they can stand half way across a small playground just beyond a set of power poles. We glance across the playground and see a solitary figure standing there too - with the breeze gently blowing her pink scarf.
For some reason this makes me cry.
My friend carries her baby daughter in a sling, and we begin to make our way across the park to join the woman who prays there, but the huddle of grey haired ladies praying their rosaries call to us, offering us their place on the dryer sidewalk.
There is no chill to ward off, so we don't walk... we stand and pray, and in the holy hush of the city sidewalk... i feel my Father's presence, and can't help but worship my God with the sun and sky painting this house of prayer, and the still small voice bidding me to come.
Minutes tic by... i hear baby coos and sucks as miracle chews on her hand, and nestles into her mama to avoid the bright sunlight. i glance back and my friend's face is upturned, eyes closed in prayer as a tiny pink fist escapes a white blanket and waves in the sunlight.
Two couples stand out for me today - it's the first time that i saw something like this, and it has left me unsettled. A police man stood just at the corner, pulling in speeding motorists, but he didn't stop the small family that j-walked across the street to the abortion clinic. The young mama was falling behind, so the daddy came back to pick up the wee one to hurry her along. He ran ahead of her, calling over his shoulder for her to come... and she seemed to me - to be taking her time. He opened the door, hurrying her in - and followed where we couldn't see them anymore. Soon, he reappeared carrying the little bundled one in his arms and ran back across the street to his waiting vehicle. i didn't see her again. The second one that sticks in my mind... & maybe it was my skewed perspective, but again, i don't think she wanted to go in... A man got out of his vehicle and stood on the walkway in front of their vehicle. He motioned for her to come, and when she didn't, he made an angry gesture with his arms and yelled at her, "COME ON!!" Finally, slowly, her car door opened... and she slouched into the clinic...
& i find myself praying to the Father who isn't restricted by a court ordered bubble zone. His Holy Presence can walk through the code locked doors of that brown building - and tenderly croon to His hurting lambs.
Women, men, families - our country and the world at large... We can do better than abortion. Those women deserve better than our silence.
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