That Wednesday, my phone’s weather app warned of a rain shower, followed by three days of snowfall—the season’s first. It was my first day back on the sidewalk after several weeks dealing with illness, and I dreaded standing out in the rain. But the rain came.
So, by the time the red pickup that had been circling the abortion facility finally parked, and I saw the couple heading into the building, I was holding my umbrella firmly; my pamphlets secure in my pocket.
I never did see the mom up close, but I noticed the dad heading back to their vehicle. I began walking quickly toward the parking lot where he’d parked, catching up to him just as he was about to climb into the large rig.
There I stood for the next 15 or 20 minutes, rain pouring, urgently talking to the dad with the sad, brown eyes. He didn’t want the abortion, he said, but they had two little ones already. They’d been drinking one night and slipped up, he divulged. And she just couldn’t do this again.
It’s hard to be out on the sidewalk without developing a thicker skin, but even with strong spiritual armor in place, the tender heart remains. On that day, so acutely sensing the gift of life, I couldn’t bear the thought of a fresh, new soul being sacrificed.
I was meeting this challenge alone, with God, while the other advocates prayed around the corner. I was so certain this child was meant to live, and I fought for it with everything I had. Before I knew it, tears were flowing from my eyes. I didn’t care. It was raining. I was raining, too. It all blended together.
A short while before, a man had come walking up the sidewalk, yelling at all of us, including the escorts, about how we were blocking his path. He seemed mostly miffed at the escorts, though, and on his return back to his car, he stopped the only escort out at that moment and began berating her for blocking his way.
My heart lurched for her. Though we are at odds on the sidewalk, and she’d only a short time before yelled at me for trying to share information with an abortion client, no one deserved to be talked to like that.
The passerby’s anger stuck with me as I talked to the dad. It seemed to me that his anger was connected to the world’s anger, and that if we could only save this child, Satan would lose his hold on us.
I did everything I could think of to empower this dad, assuring him that God loves them and their babies, and would bless their decision to give this child life, and stay very near them in the challenges ahead.
It just seemed like the most important thing in the world: to save this one soul, because in the end, it would bring us all a step closer to salvation. I felt more desperate than I ever have to keep this little one from perishing.
Ultimately, he called the mom on his cell phone and asked her to reconsider. “She’s made the final decision,” he said to me, still on the phone with her. “I’m sorry, but she’s going to go through with it.” I persisted a while longer, but at some point, recognized the futility of my pleading.
I can’t get this little soul and its family out of my mind. When a friend of mine, a deacon from our diocese, thanked me for being there, I told him how little and powerless I felt, and still feel. “Satan’s grip is powerful, but you are sowing the seeds for his defeat,” he replied.
What an important reminder. God does the saving, not us, and he will save the world in time. In the meantime, we do what we can to help, and when it feels like we’re going backward, we must remember that God has not had his last word yet. Each word and action we do in love, for Christ, brings Satan’s reign closer to its inevitable end.
It’s all I can bring away from that experience in the rain, but for now, it must be enough.
God, some days, all I can offer are my tears. Know that each one carries my love for you and the good world you’ve created. Please stay with us in this vale of tears, and strengthen us with your almighty hand in the hard days ahead.
[Note: I write about my experiences on the sidewalk Downtown Fargo on Wednesday, the day abortions happen at our state’s only abortion facility, for New Earth magazine — the official news publication of the Fargo Diocese. I hope you find “Sidewalk Stories” helpful in understanding the truth about abortion and how it plays out tragically each week here in Fargo, N.D. The preceding ran in New Earth’s December 2021 issue.]
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