40 Days for Life: On the front line

Until this morning, "Pray for the unborn" was just a thought, a nice prayer in my life.

I prayed for the first time outside an abortion clinic today, as part of the 40 Days for Life campaign. What a sobering experience. And empowering. And profane - but more on that one later.

The Pro-Lifers in my area are a faithful group. Their office is located right next door to Planned Parenthood, and the group's parking lot overlooks that of PP. If you stand in the Pro-Life parking lot, you face everyone parking in the PP lot and going into the building. The locals have been praying in front of PP on Saturdays for years. When I showed up and noted I was doing so for 40 Days for Life, one of the regulars said, "Oh, yeah. That's right, that's started. Good!"

For months, I've been meaning to join them on a Saturday morning, but it hasn't worked out for me. But I finally made it happen, taking a vigil shift in 40 Days for Life, this morning 8 a.m.-9 a.m.

I arrived just before 8 a.m. to find one man. By 8:30 a.m. there were a dozen people silently praying, including a dad and his daughter, who pray on Saturdays as part of a Lenten devotion. There were two priests, including one who quietly knelt on the literally freezing ground, in the snow, for 30 minutes praying.

Since I had never done this before, I followed the lead of others. I grabbed a "She's a Child, Not a Choice" placard and hung it around my neck. I stood alone at the end of the Pro-Life lot, not facing PP, but rather the oncoming cars on the very busy two-way street.

I stood there in the 20-something degree weather, bundled up in a heavy jacket, gloves and hat. I discovered it's very difficult, if not impossible, to pray a Rosary while wearing gloves. I held the Rosary in my bare hand, in my pocket, for warmth, and prayed a Divine Mercy Chaplet as the cars sped by.

As the cars passed, I tried to make eye contact with the drivers or passengers. Not in a mean way, or a showy way, but a "Yes, abortion is reality" way. The sight of a person wearing a big placard at 8 a.m. definitely got their attention.

Most of the drivers and passengers just stared. Two young men (in separate cars) gave me the finger. Another driver (another young man) in the opposite lane, rolled down his window, leaned out, looked at me and yelled "FUCK YOU, FAGGOT!" Then gave me the finger, too, for good measure.

I apologize for the language, but I think it's important to convey the reality - the hatred - of it all. I gotta say, I was shocked to be hit with such vitriol. But then I was somewhat OK with it, it was like a badge of honor in my mind. Heap the abuse on me, I thought, not the unborn.

What surprised me was not the sentiment of those men, but the fact it came from exclusively men. Young men. Of the women who drove by, no one made any gesture at me - or shouted anything. Why were the men so offended (and these were not teens, but grown men) they had to flip me off or curse at me?

I should note, though, that one man drove by and raised his fist in a solidarity-type gesture. So in about 20 minutes, I got 3 middle fingers, a major-league cursing and one "You go!" supportive fist. I moved off the driveway spot after about 20 minutes not due to the drivers, but because traffic was diverted around the street as a car accident occurred a few blocks down.

No traffic was coming my way to face, so I moved over to pray the Rosary with others overlooking the PP lot. Unfortunately the car accident didn't stop the PP clients from getting to the building.

So I watched as they came, escorted into the building by a security guard/doorman. It was Saturday, and Saturday, the regular vigil-ers told me, was "Abortion Day." I watched women - every one young - drive in accompanied by men, friends and even a mother.

They came out of their cars and hung their heads, staring at the ground, not even attempting to make eye contact. One couple must have parked around the block and walked, and unwittingly took the worst possible shortcut for them - right through our lot. They walked by us silently, heads hung, as we prayed for them and their unborn child.

I may be naive, as I am new to this fight, but there's one major thing I don't understand: If these women so believe in their "right" to abort their child, why couldn't they look us in the eyes? Or even lift their heads? Their body language spoke volumes. If they were scared or guilty or felt terrible about what they were about to commit, why couldn't they stop and realize there is a better way, there are resources to help?

I don't want to judge these women, as I can't imagine being in their position. It must be petrifying to be put in a situation in which killing their child is their "best" option. I can't imagine it, and I feel so terrible for them. I've been thinking about those women all day, ever since they left. How are they feeling tonight physically, emotionally, spiritually? It must be horrific.

I watched perhaps a dozen babies carried into a nondescript building this morning in their mother's womb, supposedly the safest place in the world. I left at 9 a.m., so I was not there to confirm this, but I fear for every one of those babies it was a one-way trip.

I feel terrible for those little lost souls. I feel terrible for their mothers. I just feel terrible, period.

Pray for the unborn. It has a whole new meaning tonight.