Day 35 - give me a soft heart

Another flashback from our spring vigil today...
My mom mentioned to me, after she attended her local vigil for the first time this fall, "If only people knew how easy it is - to go online, sign up - and then spend an hour on a sidewalk talking to your Father..."
& yes... it's not that hard to do a small thing - maybe only a one hour vigil -  to be a part of this 40 days of prayer - but it is soul stretching and heart wrenching to do so.
i'm working on a project - a little youtube clip i'm hoping to finish by the end of this year's vigil, something maybe you can bring to your church and invite them to be a part of this community of prayer?
We need each other so badly. 

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There are so many hurting people in this world.

i could probably just end this post with that stand alone thought, but i want to tell you one more thing.
This morning as we prayed, my daughter prayed for something i'm sure she's heard me pray for countless times: softness.
"Father, help me to be soft..."
The thought stayed with me as i carried on my day.
Early on this frigid afternoon as my friend and i prayed outside that clinic, another young mama stood on the sidewalk beside us. She had a tiny sign made out of construction paper - and on it was handwritten in purple marker, "Babies are precious gifts".
She held her rosary while her little sign flapped in the breeze.
i noticed - that she cried when the door opened and closed. Silent and tearful - kept on the other side of the street, longing - she told us - to run across the street, and hold those people in her arms. She felt so deeply - so badly -
so softly...
She laughed apologetically to us when we introduced ourselves, "i'm sorry, i didn't know i would be so deeply affected being here today. It's my first time coming here to pray..." & she wore her anguish like a thing of beauty. 
Oh God... There are so many hurting people in this world. Help me to be soft

Day 22 - what's in a sign?

My sign is home made - on light blue poster board. 
Signs can be a tender subject, can't they?  There is only room enough for a few carefully chosen words - that can be so easily misunderstood...
It's becoming my new question... What would the perfect sign say? 
Here are some thoughts from our spring vigil when i first became convinced that i needed some way to communicate.....

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you are loved

& i can't believe the 40 days are counting themselves to their end.
The sun was shining - & the sky was deceivingly blue, considering the chill in the late morning air.
& i brought a sign.
An incident the other day convinced me i needed a mode of communication.
A woman exited the clinic and walked to the bus stop. A patient? An employee? i don't know... As she wandered back and forth along the sidewalk across the street from us, she couldn't tear her eyes from us - & i wished desperately in that moment to be understood...
i stopped at the dollar store on the way home and bought a single sheet of poster board and 2 black felt tip markers.
But then my perfectionism reared it's ugly head and i couldn't figure out just the right words to put on that paper to convey my heart... so the poster board sat - behind the sofa until just before my friend came to pick me up today.
& i thought for a moment - "Ah, who needs a sign anyway - it just makes people mad..."
But then i thought of the woman - looking at me across the street curiously - and i slammed the paper on the table & wrote carefully in block letters;
"You are loved"
Loved.
Maybe the love of a stranger from across the street is meaningless - but could i trust my Father to let them know the unceasing well of HIS love is big enough to conquer any current crisis?
Running out of time, i flipped the paper - crumbs flying off the table as i wrote, "Life is a gift".

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i brought my sign again the next time i went to the clinic.
It turned out to be a day of conversations.
Sweet Vera who needed someone to listen. She showed us her antique rosary - and cried as she told us her children had said they would never make her a grandmother.
And then there was Kayla - who first yelled at us from her car, and then pulled over to have a more peaceful conversation.
As we drove home, the words that i had spoken had already dimmed in my memory, though my friend told me i said good things... But what had stayed with me were Kayla's words. She told us that her friends who had gone through abortions felt bad enough. She said they were filled with guilt and would carry that sorrow for the rest of their lives. She felt that our silence - our closing our eyes to their anguish - would be more compassionate.
"But... that's the reason we're there... isn't it? To even then, give them a chance to avoid that future - and in case that fails, to tell them they are loved?" My friend suggested.
And my heart can't help but agree.

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If you carried a sign, what would it say? 

Day 10 - outing to the abortion clinic with a friend

Here is another post from our vigil this spring. 
There have been many times that i have gone to the clinic alone... but the times that i have gone with friends - and prayed together with them on the sidewalk... those times are powerful.... & it seems like a strange thing for friends to do together.  Friends are supposed to go for coffee, shop for shoes, or go for runs at the park... Aren't they? 
What if friends did uncomfortable things together, nudged each other on to a closer relationship with their Father, sharpened like iron sharpens iron? 
What could friendships like that do? 
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seven

i broke my little pledge to myself that i would know when my next visit was by the time i arrived home from the current visit.
No matter.
There are no hard and fast rules - just ideas to help myself to stay soft, and follow through on my convictions. & as it turned out - this Monday - i found myself soft and aching already - ready to check the vigil schedule for an empty spot that i could fill.
My friend sent me a message that she could go today - & so she drove to my house, where it was almost like we picked up our littles in a shaker to decide who would come and who would stay.
With her van full of our mixed set - we left the rest at home to nap and play till we were done.
After ten minutes of driving, i realized that i hadn't inhaled yet. My friend's eyes were on the road & she was smiling and 'uh-hun'ing to me... but i had been talking non-stop since we pulled away from my house.
There's a freedom that comes from ceasing to sift words so carefully - knowing they will be sifted for you. What comfort when someone understands your deeper meaning. They don't stumble over badly chosen words or smallish ideas. Good friendships are like that - you learn to sift the wheat from the chaff, and you end up covering much ground as a companionable red van barrels down the deerfoot.
Like-mindedness is such a rarity that it's a delicious treat when it's discovered.
And so we prayed... we ached... we talked... we stood in silence.
For the first time, that parking lot wasn't full - and once again i felt that comforting confirmation that i'm to come... and keep coming - till He tells me to quit.

Day 1

There are some amazing stories coming - you won't be stuck for the full 40 days hearing me - or my repeats... :)
The 40 days begins today - & all across our nation, believers are coming together to pray... this can only mean good.  i've got my time slot booked.  Do you?  Calgarians, sign up HERE, if you're not from Calgary, find out where the nearest vigil is to you & post it in my comments section.  Someone - somewhere - is attending a vigil for the first time.  They'll feel what they feel - a heaviness, a burden to pray, self consciousness, fear, sadness - the presence of a Holy God...
Leave a comment - what did you feel the first time you attended a 40 days for life prayer vigil? 
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bringing the children - 5

i hadn't brought them yet... But then - in a twist of circumstances like one of the many twists circumstances are bound to take, i found that i was going to the clinic on my own & decided on a whim to bring them to play at the adjacent park.
We did as much homeschool as we could in those first fresh hours of the day - & then threw food into a paper bag - granola bars, crackers, cheese, fruit, veggies - even a bag of cheesies & a couple of bottles of water.
As we trooped out to the Silver Fox, i felt my heart quicken.
i don't love driving in the city - & i enjoy driving even less when my van is FULL with my boisterous crew, "But," i told myself while deep breathing down the Deerfoot, "this is worth it..."
We pulled up & walked across to the little park that is still half covered in snow.
My little ones ran off to play and i went to the sidewalk's corner at the border of the bubble zone to pray. As i shoved my hands in my pockets, i was suddenly undone... overcome with *loneliness*.
"Father God - i don't want to stand here all by myself..." i blurted out in tears.
But did i need Him to join me?
Or was it i that was joining Him - already there - present, caring and watching His loved ones in confusion, walking into a building that counsels death?
Within moments, two women joined me - a mother and daughter - and before pulling out their rosaries to pray - they encouraged me with beautiful rolling Indian accents - that the time spent here, in prayer, is worthwhile.
They prayed almost an hour with me - during part of which, our numbers reached capacity at 4 as another woman walked up and down the sidewalk.
Suddenly, i noticed a mother and young daughter walking on the other side of the road. i thought surely they were here to pray, and i wanted to call out to them that they were on the wrong side of the road and that we needed to abide by the court injunction and stay outside of the bubble zone. They walked back and forth in front of the clinic - before finally entering that parking lot - and the door opened... and closed.
Soon, my friends had to go and i found myself alone on our side of the street. My time had elapsed, but i didn't want to go. i hated to leave that little corner of the sidewalk empty - and i prayed for another to come take my place.
But littles were tired - pants were grubby and shoes filled with damp. Baby was aching for his nap... and i knew my time was up. As i got ready to go, a man tried to catch my attention from his vehicle as he drove past. As we made eye contact - he waved his finger around his ear and mouthed, "You're crazy..."
& sometimes... those are the last voices you hear as you leave the corner under the watchful eyes of a Holy God who never slumbers or sleeps.

we begin tomorrow...

The vigil is set to begin tomorrow... i just checked the schedule on the WEBSITE and volunteers are starting to trickle in.  Do you have a story to share?  Submit it via the contact info on the tabs above, or just add it to the comments section. 
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.

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.