It Began Here. Let It End Here.

When I first joined in with Julie D. and Mark Windsor to put out our joint statement, I was certainly honored. I care deeply about the pro-life movement and sometimes do not feel involved enough. I have never really felt as though I had done enough to save those poor kids. I felt like I finally had something I could do and that would be effective in softening hearts and saving lives. I just had no idea how hard it would hit me when that first Friday came around...

Yesterday morning as my stomach began to knot, I thought of all of the beautiful babies that I knew. I thought of their cooing and gurgling and infectious smiles. I thought about their parents and the joy that had entered their lives at the birth of these children. And then I thought about all the children that would never have someone listen to them. I thought of all the little children who were growing and maturing in their mothers' womb who would be killed that day. They would squirm to avoid the blade or the suction but to no avail...

As the day went on my stomach pains became less.. or at least, I noticed them less. What came were more faces, more smiles, more sorrow. Odd? No. When I saw these faces I again was reminded of all the faces I would never see. Those beautiful people who would never pass me in the grocery store, sit next to me in the movie theatre, shake my hand during the sign of peace. Everywhere I went I saw an empty space, a space where one of my aborted friends should have been.

After work I joined my grandparents, siblings, and dad at a local sea food restaurant where they were finishing their dinner. Upon arriving I was told that one of my favorite teachers from grade school was also dining there. He came around and we started chatting when I saw a young girl emerge from his booth. I watched her in amazement and asked if she was his. He said she was. ... I remember the day she was born! I remember the smile he had when he showed us the picture of his new baby and his wife. How happy he was! And now, to see her so grown up (but still so young) was just neat. She was extremely talkative and full of life! She made quite the impression. And as she walked away with her loving parents, I wondered what the world would be like if she had not been born. I wondered what her parents would be like. I wonder what they wouldn't be like.

Soon it was time to head out and wait for my mom to finish up her wedding rehearsal. (Nothing scandalous -- she's a wedding coordinator for our church.) I was there about thirty minutes early but it made no sense to go home and come all the way back. Instead of waiting outside, I decided to sit in the back pew and listen quietly. As I watched the couple kneel in front of the altar, our pastor giving them instruction on how the ceremony would unfold the next day, I thought about their future together. I thought about their wedding day and the day their first child would be born. I watched as they walked over to say a prayer in front of the Blessed Virgin and prayed in that moment that she would watch over them, protect them, ask her Son to shower blessings upon them. I asked that she would wrap them both in the mantle of her love and intercede for them and their children... and again came the faces. (Oh the faces...)

After dinner I attended Stations of the Cross at my parish. There too I saw the faces. And oddly enough, this was when I felt the most pain. I had just eaten my dinner and had a full glass of water. But still I hurt. I hurt as I walked with Jesus to His cross. I hurt because of my sins and the sins of the whole world. I hurt knowing that I was part of a generation that killed their most innocent.

Every time I knelt and the deacon said, "Let us pray for the grace to be like Christ," tears filled my eyes. I begged and pleaded for the grace to live like Him, to love like Him. I asked Him to help me help myself first so that I may turn to help others. I asked Him, with everyone else, to never allow me to seperate myself fom Him again. Only standing with Him can I do anything to soften hearts and save lives. Only with Him, in Him and through Him can this battle be won.

As Mark said yesterday, this is a battle not won with anger and weapons but with prayer and self-denial -- two things our murderous neighbors do not understand. Today I ask (for all of us) for the strength to continue on with this movement. I ask the intercession of Servant of God, Pope John Paul the Great, of my purest patron, St Maria Goretti, and especially of the Blessed Mother. May our efforts be always guided by the Holy Spirit. Amen.