This is from my friend Mary Anne, who participated on the March for Life at the capitol of her home state yesterday:
As I stood at the State Capitol yesterday, I held my sign up high. I caught sight of several people taking pictures of my sign and what was written on it. I saw people laughing and smiling – and then they read my sign. I saw children reading it, old people reading it, groups of laughing teen boys reading it. I saw a lot of people read it, and then hang their head. I watched it.
One man quietly approached me, read my sign, and asked me a couple of questions, and kindly said, “Bless you” as he finished.
I felt peaceful and courageous and dignified yesterday. I walked, and I held my head up high. I was carrying a sign that no one could look away from comfortably.
I was the face, I was the scar, I was the tears, I was the survivor-ship, of abortion, that everyone knows about, even if they don’t want to admit it. People looked at me and they saw a quiet lady who HAD been there and is now telling about it.
And I’m not going away, and I’m not going to stop. I am going to call out this industry; I am going to call out this movement, until the day I die. And each day I am getting better and better at it.
I’ll tell you something I noticed, even though I’ve done this for several years now at the March For Life. Our pro-life marches are quiet, dignified, courteous towards everyone. I have yet to see one rude person. The teenagers haven’t defaced their own bodies with markings and piercings, as if to say they hate themselves. They are courteous, and well-mannered. They don’t require policemen to save them from themselves; they wave at and thank the policemen for their protective presence. I’ve seen 14 year-old boys who were more chivalrous towards women than some adult pro-choice men I’ve encountered. I saw yesterday a large group of young high school men who I would have trusted my life with. That’s the one thing that stands out to me the most of all – – the increasing presence of young people at pro-life marches.
I cannot say that about pro-choice rallies; they are loud, they yell, they wave their fists in the air, they shout and clench their teeth and look so very angry. They have had the federally mandated right to abort for forty years now. They got what they wanted – and now they have a president who is as militantly anti-life as they are, so they should be deliriously happy. So WHAT are they angry about? They shout obscenities, sexualize women, they use horribly profane words, they call women (and women call each other) the “c-word”.
They sometimes threaten people, fights break out, requiring the resources of taxpayer-funded police. They throw food and wear ghastly pink vagina costumes and draw Magic Marker horrible quips on their defiantly-bared pregnant stomachs about how their unborn child WILL be “pro-choice” – and then high-five each other about how hilarious they look. I didn’t find it funny; it made me cry. The young men are coarse and aggressive, and ironically as disrespectful towards the women there as they are towards themselves – even when it’s a rally supposedly to support women.
You never heard anything about affirmation of life and inner peace, nor about any kind of healing, nor one single, solitary word about love. But you hear a whole lot about “rights”, about “demands”, about “Me, me, me”, and “I want…”
It deeply embarrasses me and worries me about the condition of those men’s and women’s hearts; how seduced they have been behind the euphemisms of killing human life and calling it “choice”, of refusing to refer to an unborn human being as a “baby” while clinging to the term “fetus” as if their own lives depended on it. Of how utterly seduced they have been behind the very rhetoric that claims it respects women and yet is indifferent to them. If THEY suffer from abortion there will be none (other than pro-life organizations, that is) that will come to their side and care for them. But they don’t know it yet.
And, sadly, like I and so many, many others, they will find it out when they, too, seek that abortion (ironically, so many women who scream for abortion rights and dismiss it as a non-event have never even HAD an abortion. They can’t tell you what transpires in an abortion and neither can they recite for you the risks and complications of abortion. But they CAN legalistically spout off the laws concerning abortion. So what do they know about abortion up close?)
Something else you’ll never hear at a pro-choice rally is quiet. Perhaps prayer. What do you pray about, when you believe it’s okay to kill an unborn child? How do you ask Christ to bless you while you kill human life in the womb?
How do you call yourself a Christian, because a genuine Christian is someone who believes in the infallible words of Christ, and a few of those words were about how He knew us before we were born, that every hair on our heads is counted, and that we are fearfully and wonderfully made, and that He has a plan and a hope for our lives and our future.
How do you justify to yourself, spiritually, intellectually, psychologically, that that is NOT a God who holds human life sacred and asks us to, too?
How do you call yourself a Christian, and rationalize to yourself that you’ll follow this part, but not that part, of the Bible? Isn’t that declaring yourself higher and wiser than God, when you take the power over life and death into your own hands?
The sign Mary Anne held had these words: One one side it said, “ABORTION HURTS WOMEN. IT HURT ME.”
And on the other side, “ABORTION IS NOT GENTLE. IT IS NOT KIND. IT IS NOT EMPOWERING. IT IS NOT LIFE-AFFIRMING. I AM LIVING PROOF OF THE TRAIN WRECK OF ABORTION. BUT I AM A SURVIVOR AND I CALL IT WHAT IT IS.”
Mary Anne is wonderful, intelligent, kind and compassionate human being, I am honored to count her among my friends.
Until next time, God Bless.