The Crusade For Life.

On Friday January 25th 2013, I joined over 650,000 anti-abortion protestors in the March for Life in Washington D.C. I had arrived the day before with 150 other pro-lifers on three buses from Upper Michigan. We gathered in the morning despite below freezing temperatures in the Washington mall and listened to one dynamic pro-life speaker after another. Once we started marching, I saw the US Capitol building looming before us and felt something watching us from above its dome where legislation is enacted that either destroys or protects life. That sinister presence watching us, kept me praying, but did not deter us from going forward.

Pilgrims from all over the US left the safety and warmth of their homes to march for life. We endured cold weather and sleepless nights on buses to reach our destination. When I looked around me amidst a sea of signs and banners, I saw that the majority of marchers were youth. I was emboldened by their courageous hearts.

As we continued the march, I saw a digital billboard that showed the horrific reality of abortion. It showed a bloodied and mangled body of an aborted fetus. Many thought it was too much, but for me, I flashbacked 13 years earlier when I had viewed these billboards for the first time. I walked outside my work place and saw a group of people raising similar signs along the main street so cars passing by could see the aborted fetus and the baby’s bloodied hand. Those graphic but truth filled images activated me and brought the abstract concept of the abortion issue to a flesh and blood reality that was now my problem.

After the March was over and having finished dinner with the youth group I was with, we gathered for a late night rosary in one of our hotel rooms at the Hyatt. There were about a dozen of us. We turned off all the lights and put a prayer card of the Blessed Mother up against the TV and illuminated her with an i-phone light. Together, amidst empty pizza boxes, and sprawled out luggage, we prayed the rosary for all those we met along the way and for an end to abortion. We prayed all huddled together on two beds. I looked at these teenagers and saw something that made my heart heavy. I saw fatigue in their faces, exhaustion, uncertainty, and so many threats to their future like the HHS mandate, abortion, gay marriage, euthanasia, the dire economy, the debt, and the continual attacks on the Church and family. Such a hostile world they have inherited.

One girl in our youth group had gotten sick and was unable to march with us. Her face was pale and she was unable to eat, but she joined us in the rosary and fell asleep on the floor. She was the chosen victim soul for our group. I was proud to have fellowship with these modern day crusaders and face whatever end they would.

On the bus ride home I reflected on two pro-life speakers who had impacted me the most. The first woman gave testimony that her mother had been raped and tried to have her aborted twice but was unable to. She was that one percent where so many think it is acceptable to abort because her mother was raped.

The second woman spoke about how she soaked for five days in saline in her mother’s womb, but miraculously survived the abortion. She is a part of that invisible population of abortion survivors whose stories need to be heard. There weren’t too many dry eyes listening to these women express how much they loved their life, even though the second woman would carry the physical scars from the abortion and both of them would carry the emotional scars of not being wanted by their parents for the rest of their lives.

I also realized that the invisible presence near the US Capitol, may not be affected by bumper stickers, letters to the editor, marches, or votes, but is affected by prayer and fasting, which is a important task we all can undertake until the next march keeping that Red Eyed Dragon against the ropes as we continue to crusade for a culture of life.

sag