The Sixth Street Bridge

The Sixth Street Bridge
At the tender age of 17, I walked across this bridge, alone, into Downtown Pittsburgh, with $300 in my pocket that my mother had given me to get an abortion. I went into the Fulton Building (in the picture) and did what I was told to do. I didn't have a choice - if I did, I wouldn't have chosen abortion.

Tuesday, November 8, 2011

I think I just found some courage to witness at the abortion clinic this Saturday...

Life has been busy as of late in good ways and not so good ways.  I find myself struggling to nourish my soul in some fruitful way.  When floundering, I usually have to find a way back to the basics of what's important to me and whittle down from all the things I want to do to the few things I want to do and am actually able to get done.

I've been feeling lately as if I've been neglecting Grace, putting her off because it's been too difficult to think about her even though I know that she doesn't want my thinking about her to be difficult.  The unresolved issues with my Mom make thinking about her difficult because it all ties together.  I can't compartmentalize Grace, and my Mom, and my life now.  This mostly happens when I'm busy with my children and I push down the thoughts of Grace that come up because it hurts too much.  But, sometimes, I am able to pause for a moment, acknowledge the grief I'm feeling, remind myself that I've been forgiven and keep going.  I know that my Lord does not want me to wallow around in my self pity but to rest in the knowledge that Grace is with Him and is just fine and dandy, thank you very much.  Oh ye of little faith. 

One of the things on my revised to do list is to go back to the abortion clinic and participate in a peaceful and prayerful witness with a group of people that do so every month.  On a grander scale, I've booked out the date of the annual March for Life in Washington, D.C. this year, we'll see how that pans out.  The last time I went to pray outside the clinic was a few months ago and it was very difficult. I was alone as in I didn't know anyone there personally, but it's not essential that I have a buddy to go with me.  Also, there were a lot less people that time.  The first time I participated, our Bishop was there so obviously a lot more people showed up.  I figured if I could stand close enough to him, or just kind of hide behind him, then I'd be okay.  What's difficult is that it takes a lot out of me to participate, emotionally, mentally, and physically as I fight off the panic attack and the urge to punch someone - namely the screaming banshees down the sidewalk (not part of our group).

Tonight, however, catching up on the blogs I normally visit, on Fr. Z's Blog - What Does that Prayer Really Say, I came across a post with the transcript from Archbishop Chaput's address at the University of Pennsylvania entitled, Being Human in an Age of Unbelief.  I do hope the good Archbp. proves out to be all bark and bite.  In his address, he puts into words what needs to be at the heart of the prolife movement, at the heart of all the good that the Church does.  After all the Fr. Pavone drama, I needed to hear something ringing true through all the noise.  And just when I thought I was reading about the Church globally, Archbp. Chaput made it personal.

"What makes abortion so grievous is the intimacy of the violence and the innocence of the victim."

Therein I found the necessary courage to show up Saturday bright and early, rosary in hand.  I won't ever know if my witness there has any affect at all, but I have to be there.  I know what is going on behind those ugly walls and that chain link fence.  I know what those clueless escorts are leading those women into.  I know what's going to come afterwards...10 minutes after they leave that ugly building and what will come 20 years later.  I know what is coming and I know that it will never be left behind.