“Go to Hell.”
The man’s voice hit me like a punch in the face. I whirled around to stare at his retreating figure as he continued down the sidewalk as if nothing had happened.
With shaking hands, I clung to my rosary. I had never experienced so much hatred in a place. This was the third campaign I had been involved with, so you would have thought I’d be used to it. But I wasn’t.
And that’s not the worst thing ever to be said to a pro-life activist standing outside a Planned Parenthood building. But for me, the man’s words just reminded me of the terrible hatred that filled many people’s hearts when they look on the work we do.
It was a miserable morning down on Liberty Avenue. Not just on the inside, but outside. Early March, the snow was still falling; the cold was piercing through my gloves and snow boots. And everything felt wrong.
With desperation I looked around, trying to find some comfort, some affirmation that what we were doing, standing as a witness for life, was fruitful. I wanted to see I smile, a thumbs up, I wanted to see the passerby’s actually support us. But I saw nothing.
A car horn beeped, it sounded like a gun shot. A girl shouted at us from across the street, I shuddered inside. Where was God?
Just as I thought that, I looked up. I was facing the building, staring at the words, “Planned Parenthood” written across the front windows. As I stared at the glass doors, I saw the reflection of someone in the door.
It was Sally, our shift manager. In her eighties, standing four feet tall, shuffling around to hand out signs and chat with people, she wasn’t exactly the type of person who could protect us physically. But for some reason, as I stared at her reflection in the door, I felt safe.
No, Sally couldn’t protect us physically, but she was protecting us spiritually. The woman I was staring at was a spiritual warrior. I looked at her, and I knew everything was going to be alright. I knew I was staring at the face of God.
In the five campaigns I’ve been involved with, I have met so many wonderful and kind people praying on those sidewalks in the bitter cold, standing as a witness for life. What has struck me most about many of these people is how spiritually strong they are. While there are times that feel dark and desperate, there are also times where I can feel the presence of God in the people standing beside me.
Many of these people have been fighting for the end of Abortion since it began. And what many of them have learned throughout these last 40 years is that prayer is the best weapon against Abortion.
It is very difficult to stand out in front of an Abortion clinic with a pro-life sign, and convince those going in that it’s the wrong idea. It’s difficult to witness so much hatred from the passerby’s who don’t agree with your point of view.
Once, while walking away after finishing our shift at the Abortion clinic, my dad told me, “Never let anyone say you haven’t been in a battle. Because you just experienced the front line.”
Standing on the sidewalk outside of Planned Parenthood, with Pro-choice activists and Planned Parenthood escorts yelling at us, is a battleground. It's the front line of a fight for Life, a fight for those who can't fight for themselves.
And those dedicated people, who have been involved with this fight since the beginning of the abortion industry, they are the soldiers. People like Sally, a little tiny woman who has such an impact on people's lives, she is a soldier.
They fight for the right to life by being a witness, ministering to young women, praying the rosary outside of the building. While so many people look at them, thinking it's a lost cause, they cling to it as the best cause they could ever fight for. Because they firmly believe everyone is equal to the right for life.
