40 Days: Stay the Course
6:55 a.m.
47 degrees.
Drizzle.
I arrive at the 40 Days site outside Planned Parenthood.
I locate the signs that had been hidden, and set up a couple. At 7 a.m., holding one sign, I begin to pray.
As I pray, I watch bands of drizzle sweep by.
I start to sing, quietly.
"Father, we adore Thee ...
and
"All we are saying, is give life a chance." (Wonder how John Lennon would feel about me appropriating his song?)
No one else arrives by 7:10. I begin a rosary.
Dawn arrives. It grows lighter. Drizzle continues.
Hail Mary ...
Cars pass intermittently. No responses. But maybe seeds planted?
Our Father ...
At 7 :25 Rick arrives. He opens up the Focus Center and gets some more signs. He joins me.
He's not scheduled until later, but dropped by early knowing I was alone. We chat for a few minutes.
Obama and the Nobel Peace Prize.
Red Sox.
Music played last week as part of 40 Days.
More than 180 babies saved, including one locally.
Alleluia.
We say a rosary together.
Cars continue by. One honks. Support or not? Unclear. I said I will take it as support.
Rain picks up. Not enough to put up my umbrella - that would make it hard to hold the sign - but steady enough. I put my hood over my hat. My hands are cold. Gloves next time?
I think: I'm uncomfortable, but Jesus really suffered on the Cross to save us. I'm uncomfortable, but the babies we are trying to save face a possible horrible, pain-filled death. I'm uncomfortable, but the women who make the tragic choice of abortion face a life-time of anguish and potential emotional and physical problems.
Thank you, Lord, for this opportunity.
There will be a number of people showing up later. Praying. Singing.
From 7-8, I, and then the two of us, just a presence. But a praying presence.
And whenever two or more are gathered ...
8:10. I leave. Crank up the heat in the car. Flex my fingers.
I'll be back.
47 degrees.
Drizzle.
I arrive at the 40 Days site outside Planned Parenthood.
I locate the signs that had been hidden, and set up a couple. At 7 a.m., holding one sign, I begin to pray.
As I pray, I watch bands of drizzle sweep by.
I start to sing, quietly.
"Father, we adore Thee ...
and
"All we are saying, is give life a chance." (Wonder how John Lennon would feel about me appropriating his song?)
No one else arrives by 7:10. I begin a rosary.
Dawn arrives. It grows lighter. Drizzle continues.
Hail Mary ...
Cars pass intermittently. No responses. But maybe seeds planted?
Our Father ...
At 7 :25 Rick arrives. He opens up the Focus Center and gets some more signs. He joins me.
He's not scheduled until later, but dropped by early knowing I was alone. We chat for a few minutes.
Obama and the Nobel Peace Prize.
Red Sox.
Music played last week as part of 40 Days.
More than 180 babies saved, including one locally.
Alleluia.
We say a rosary together.
Cars continue by. One honks. Support or not? Unclear. I said I will take it as support.
Rain picks up. Not enough to put up my umbrella - that would make it hard to hold the sign - but steady enough. I put my hood over my hat. My hands are cold. Gloves next time?
I think: I'm uncomfortable, but Jesus really suffered on the Cross to save us. I'm uncomfortable, but the babies we are trying to save face a possible horrible, pain-filled death. I'm uncomfortable, but the women who make the tragic choice of abortion face a life-time of anguish and potential emotional and physical problems.
Thank you, Lord, for this opportunity.
There will be a number of people showing up later. Praying. Singing.
From 7-8, I, and then the two of us, just a presence. But a praying presence.
And whenever two or more are gathered ...
8:10. I leave. Crank up the heat in the car. Flex my fingers.
I'll be back.
posted by A Secular Franciscan | 10:08 AM
3 Comments:
did you sing rock music?
I guess "All we are saying is give life a chance" could be counted as "rock". The composer of the original version was a rock musician, after all.
Lee,
Today (Sun) my wife, Mary, did the 9-10 hour. I did the 6-7 hour. No one else was there. No one before either of us. No one after either of us. 2 gentlemen (probably late 20s) walked by and said, "you should be ashamed of yourself" after I said, "how's it going?". This stirred up some emotions in me. Then I prayed a rosary of the sorrowful mysteries and everything was put into perspective. I also got a long car honk - certainly not a nice one. Keep praying!
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