I’d been downtown for the morning midweek and was just pulling out of a parking spot when I saw a friend on her way into church.
I quickly rolled down my van window, feeling a blast of heat on my skin. “Hey there,” I yelled, hoping to catch her before she headed inside.
I froze. Protest? With no time for a lengthy conversation, I murmured a hesitant, “OK, I guess.” Shortly thereafter, we parted ways, but I had not yet moved on in thought.
I’d confronted frequent misunderstanding in my now-regular presence in downtown Fargo on Wednesday mornings by strangers, but felt troubled that a friend also had misunderstood.
And recently, all this has resurfaced. The words “protest” and even “counterprotest” have appeared numerous times in our local media to describe the weekly activity on the sidewalk in front of the Red River Women’s Clinic, North Dakota’s only abortion facility.
I’m concerned, as on that day last summer, at what these words unfairly convey.
The local annual 40 Days for Life prayer vigil ended last Sunday. Nationally, this concerted effort to pray for the women who seek abortion resulted in over 500 lives saved, according to the event’s national website, with over 10,000 “saves” since the event’s inception in Texas in 2007.
Despite these efforts, I’ve been hearing from local friends who are concerned that their message — and intent — has been overcome by false perception.
And it comes down to two words, really. Is it a protest or a prayer?
Since Lent of last year, when a friend asked me to join her on the sidewalk, I have come weekly, as often as possible, to pray for the women who arrive with much on their minds.
We also pray for the escorts who shuttle them into the facility, and for the fathers and others who accompany them.
I can’t begin to imagine the myriad emotions they are experiencing, but I’ve talked to enough of the women who’ve been through abortion to know that, for many, it is traumatic.
By and large, those who show up on the sidewalk come with a sincere desire to introduce other, life-giving options, and simply pray.
We want the women to know of our community’s many resources to help them not only give life to their babies but to have someone to walk with them beyond the pregnancy.
There’s not much time to share this hopeful information on Wednesdays, and often, we are impeded from talking to them. But when we can, we try to offer hope.
This summer, recognizing the limitations in speaking words of love to the women, I thought about how I might communicate my thoughts through a handmade sign. After discerning what I most wanted to convey, I came up with a simple symbol: a heart. Because what I want to say most of all is, “We love you, and we love your baby.”
In decades past, things might have been different. There may have been more hate spoken on the sidewalk. And maybe that still happens on occasion. As sinners, we don’t always get it right. But from what I’ve experienced, that’s the rare — and unwelcomed — exception.
As the psychological effects of abortion have become clearer, science has evolved, too, revealing a beating heart at just weeks into a pregnancy, and all components of a human person fully present at conception.
We are no longer discussing a blob of tissues; in other words, the conversation has advanced.
As we’ve seen deeper into the womb, many of us have also seen deeper into the hearts of the mothers. We know that shaming them isn’t helpful and that only love will bring hope, and a possible change in direction.
Spending time out there isn’t easy. I’ve been called names and been on the receiving end of hateful gestures, despite my prayerful stance and intentions.
But I am not there to protest, and I believe I represent the majority who converge on the sidewalk each week.
If media stories have proven confusing, there’s one way to learn the truth of it — by coming to the sidewalk in person some Wednesday to see what happens.
All are welcomed — it’s a public sidewalk — but I speak for myself and, I believe, the rest of the faithful and others of good will who gather: If you come, please bring an attitude of love and help us create a peaceful, prayerful presence.
[For the sake of having a repository for my newspaper columns and articles, I reprint them here, with permission, a week after their run date. The preceding ran in The Forum newspaper on Nov. 7, 2015.]
I think that you are helping re-define what the casual onlooker may think they are witnessing. It must be hard on both sides, I know how much you want the women to feel your prayers for them, your peace and love. I wonder if the women see it in those terms? I pray that they do- that they feel there is connection instead of isolation. A safe harbor, if you will, rather than fighting through or being escorted through what may feel like just the opposite of love and peace and prayer. I love that you persevere, no matter what you face, you keep moving forward in faith and love.
Vicky, many of the women are warned about us and told false things beforehand. We cannot control any of that. What I do know is that I have heard from women, in Fargo and other places, who later realized that we were there in love, and were grateful for our presence. Even if they go through with the abortion, it might tug on them later as they sort through the after effects, and in time, our presence that may have happened months or even years later brings them to a place of healing. I have heard enough of these kinds of stories to know that our being there is worth something. Even if we are misunderstood. Thanks for once again seeing my heart on this. Of course it’s not easy, for anyone. We don’t relish being there either; we’d rather be elsewhere. But it’s a powerful place to witness by just showing up and praying.
HI Roxane, I’m so glad to see that you’re continuing to stand up for what you believe in, working in a non-violent way for change. I’m a little curious, though, about why there seems to be an artificial delineation between prayer and protest. I don’t think they’re mutually exclusive. Prayer that protests injustice, or protest that includes prayer, can be very powerful–perhaps more so than either form of human behavior used without the other.
Consider the Psalms; specifically the ones that cry out to God for justice. In these Scriptures, it seems to me that the psalmist protests perceived unfair, hurtful treatment at the hands of others, crying out to God for justice and relief from these acts of cruelty. Likewise, resting in the prayerful contemplation of God’s gifts of peace, security, and protection seems to me to be a protest against humanity’s unbalanced focus on secular or even profane reward.
Then, of course, there is the ultimate prayer of protest, the Magnificat. Mary specifically calls out those who have caused harm to God’s children, “His mercy is from generation to generation on those who fear Him. He has shown might with His arm, He has scattered the proud in the conceit of their heart. He has put down the mighty from their thrones, and has exalted the lowly. He has filled the hungry with good things, and the rich He has sent away empty.” (Luke 1:46-55)
I’m not a Bible scholar by any means, but it seems to me that any protest people of faith undertake in the name of their Deity has got to be a balanced mix of thought and discernment (that’s the prayer part), with non-violent action that reminds others that there is at least one alternative to the path they’ve chosen (that’s the protest). Long-lasting, successful change is possible only when each kind of action leavens the other. Keep on fighting the good fight!
Hi Cheryl, yes, and some people who pray there would also say they are protesting, and that is fine. I think it comes down to the audience you are trying to reach, and I don’t find it artificial how I think about this at all. It’s deeply felt. I don’t go to the Red River Women’s Clinic to protest. I am very focused on the women themselves, and what might have brought them there. I want them to know that we are not judging because we understand how complicated this situations can be, and some of us praying are even post-abortive so we really do know, and that there are ways for them to bring life and be supported. Through listening to my post-abortive friends, I have come to a much better understanding of why we are there. Do I wish abortion wasn’t a thing? Sure. Do I think it will go away soon? I’d like to hope so but there are no guarantees. If I were just there with my sign wanting people passing by to see that I do not like abortion as a solution, I would consider myself a protester, yes, but I think it’s a matter of the heart, and that’s not my heart’s FIRST intent (maybe that’s the key). I recall years ago you said that one thing that had frustrated you about the Church growing up is that you always heard what the Church is against, but not what the Church is for. Who are we for? The women, the babies. I am more for them than anything. That’s truly why I am called out there. And I don’t see this as a political thing, either; not a legal so much as a statement of the heart. Consider what the women are told. I’m assuming something like, “And be warned, there are going to be protesters out there but our escorts will protect you.” Protesting what? Them? I think that could be so easily misconstrued, that we are protesting their hearts, and not the actions of the clinic or the physicians that are flown in from out of town because our doctors here refuse to do abortions. Of course, I will continue mulling over the deeper questions here, and people are free to think of themselves as protesters, but to me, that takes the focus off the women and what they are going through. I hope that helps. By the way, your thoughtful response was beautiful and I’m truly glad you shared it! It’s definitely something to ponder, to look at the word protest in that light. Through this column, I wanted to give people who have seen us prayer folks as only up to no good (the clinic called us “domestic terrorists” on their Facebook page after this column came out) some other ideas to ponder. Thanks again, Cheryl.