January18-24, 2009: A week of first things, for the world, for our country, for me personally.
If someone had told most people in this country, 50 years ago, that a black man would be the president, most would have looked at you like you were crazy or at the very least written you off as hopelessly idealistic.
And yet, Barack Obamo has been sworn in as the president of the United States and the leader of the free world.
If someone had told me that, on January 22, 2009, I would be standing here, in Washington, D.C., after the March for Life, I would have looked at you like you were crazy…
If someone had told me that I would one day be standing in front of an abortion mill, trying to raise awareness, hoping that one mother might change her mind and let her baby live, praying that babies won’t die, I would have said never, never would it happen.
First of all for a long time, I was quite willing to buy into the indoctrination of the lies of the culture, and, if asked, would have said and did say, “It’s a woman’s right, it’s her 'choice'.”
And later, even after acknowledging the error of my thinking and reality of my own actions, personally recognizing that I was forgiven, but still acknowledging the consequences in my personal life and still feeling a great sense of shame, I probably wouldn’t have said it, but felt that all of that “activist” stuff was for someone else to do until it hit a little too close to home for me.
One day, I did go to an abortion mill. I knew that doing so would be profound and it truly was. And--at that time, even though I had acknowledged the terrible wrongdoing of my own abortion and knew that I was forgiven, standing there that day, watching for the first time women going in those places to forever alter their lives and denying forever another human being, their own baby, a chance at life--I knew that something in me was changed forever as well.
I knew that anyone that witnessed this holocaust personally could never again deny, dismiss or ignore it as "out of site out of mind." I knew that I could never do that again.
I realized that I wished that someone had told me. I wished that someone had been there to say to me, “Don’t do this. This is not a blob of tissue. This is your baby and abortion is murder."
I wished that someone, anyone had been there to tell me that no amount of shame, no discomfort, no interruption in my personal plans is worth killing a child.
I wished that someone had honestly told me that the personal, psychological and physical effects could be profound and long-reaching.
If someone had told me, maybe, just maybe I might have listened.
And so, standing in front of that abortion mill on that busy street in that "regular" American city on that "regular" Friday morning, with people rushing by, busy with their lives, just "business as usual", while right in their midst - because of a right legally afforded every woman in this country by the unjust ruling of the court of this country, this court who in spite of its reason for existence and mandate is to protect and uphold, by law the life, liberty and freedoms that are supposed to be afforded to every person in this country according to the Constitution -- babies are being killed week in and week out;
And were it not for the brave souls standing in front of abortion mills all over this country and giving witness by their peaceful presence faithfully week in and week out; men and women, young and old, blue collar and professional, people of different faiths sharing a common conviction that the freedom and liberty for every life is worth standing for, this atrocity and defamation of justice would continue to take place all over this country. Four thousand babies a day, literally unnoticed right in our midst, die, just as mine did.
So standing there in front of that abortion mill, I knew that I could not be silent anymore, that I will speak... for families, I will speak for my child, I must speak for the unborn children.
I will speak for forgivenss. I will speak for healing. I will speak for freedom. I will speak for love.