Life is Precious
Today, a major event is happening which will be ignored by the media. Today, millions of people will brave freezing temperatures and snow to stand or walk in the middle of Washington, D.C. and all across the United States. Today, young men and women, clergy from many denominations, families, and religious brothers and sisters will form a seething mass of people bundled against the cold. Today, those men and women will be united to rejoice in the gift of life, to mourn its persecution, and to suffer for its protection.
I'll be attending Indianapolis' local observance of the March today, since I can't make it to D.C. I've heard it said that the March for Life has no effect, since it's ignored by the media and lawmakers alike. It does have the very beneficial effect, however, of letting supporters of the pro-life cause experience solidarity and the union of prayer and sacrifice. Sometimes the defense of life can seem very lonely, especially if you're in a workplace surrounded by secular atheists, and you realize that birth control is expected of "normal" couples. Remember also that the March isn't just about abortion, but that the Culture of Death attacks the lives of the elderly and disabled. Fighting that Culture of Death is daunting. It seems like a desolate task when you kneel across from a Planned Parenthood building to pray, and young woman after young woman enters to kill their child.
When I attended the last Shield of Roses at Christendom, this past semester, it was a week after I had learned that my big sister had a miscarriage. I was still in shock from the loss of the little niece or nephew I'd been so looking forward to, and worrying about my sister. As I knelt in front of the abortion clinic to pray the Rosary, I realized there was something I just couldn't wrap my mind around. I couldn't understand why a woman would kill her child.
Women are so deeply gifted to be able to carry and nourish life - it's part of us, in an intrinsic way! Now, I'm the youngest child in my family, so I've never experienced my mom being pregnant. I've only taken care of babies and children as a sitter or interacted as a visitor, so I've always been rather happy to return them to their parents at the end of the day. It wasn't until a couple of years ago, when the possibility of motherhood became a more understandable reality, that I started to think about what motherhood would be like. I realized, without any experience, that being a mother is something I want desperately. I want the joy and the pain of bearing and raising children. I want to care for them, feed them, make sure they're clothed, read to them, brush their hair. Frankly, I don't understand how any girl as a girl could not want that! It's so much a part of our femininity to be intimately connected to life. Abortion is the complete polarization of what it means to be a woman.
I know a part of what my sister went through with her miscarriage, the pain and sorrow and guilt at the loss of motherhood, and what I've seen with other women who have had miscarriages. I know my own sorrow for the little person I never got to babysit or change their diaper or give birthday presents or be a good aunt to. Take that, and magnify it by 56 million lives. Take that, and multiply it by all the mothers and fathers and doctors and nurses and all the people who would have seen and interacted with and known and been friends with and worked with each one of those persons, who were murdered before they ever saw light. That's why we march today.
I'll be attending Indianapolis' local observance of the March today, since I can't make it to D.C. I've heard it said that the March for Life has no effect, since it's ignored by the media and lawmakers alike. It does have the very beneficial effect, however, of letting supporters of the pro-life cause experience solidarity and the union of prayer and sacrifice. Sometimes the defense of life can seem very lonely, especially if you're in a workplace surrounded by secular atheists, and you realize that birth control is expected of "normal" couples. Remember also that the March isn't just about abortion, but that the Culture of Death attacks the lives of the elderly and disabled. Fighting that Culture of Death is daunting. It seems like a desolate task when you kneel across from a Planned Parenthood building to pray, and young woman after young woman enters to kill their child.
When I attended the last Shield of Roses at Christendom, this past semester, it was a week after I had learned that my big sister had a miscarriage. I was still in shock from the loss of the little niece or nephew I'd been so looking forward to, and worrying about my sister. As I knelt in front of the abortion clinic to pray the Rosary, I realized there was something I just couldn't wrap my mind around. I couldn't understand why a woman would kill her child.
Women are so deeply gifted to be able to carry and nourish life - it's part of us, in an intrinsic way! Now, I'm the youngest child in my family, so I've never experienced my mom being pregnant. I've only taken care of babies and children as a sitter or interacted as a visitor, so I've always been rather happy to return them to their parents at the end of the day. It wasn't until a couple of years ago, when the possibility of motherhood became a more understandable reality, that I started to think about what motherhood would be like. I realized, without any experience, that being a mother is something I want desperately. I want the joy and the pain of bearing and raising children. I want to care for them, feed them, make sure they're clothed, read to them, brush their hair. Frankly, I don't understand how any girl as a girl could not want that! It's so much a part of our femininity to be intimately connected to life. Abortion is the complete polarization of what it means to be a woman.
I know a part of what my sister went through with her miscarriage, the pain and sorrow and guilt at the loss of motherhood, and what I've seen with other women who have had miscarriages. I know my own sorrow for the little person I never got to babysit or change their diaper or give birthday presents or be a good aunt to. Take that, and magnify it by 56 million lives. Take that, and multiply it by all the mothers and fathers and doctors and nurses and all the people who would have seen and interacted with and known and been friends with and worked with each one of those persons, who were murdered before they ever saw light. That's why we march today.
I’m so sorry to hear of Sarah’s miscarriage, do pass on my prayers and sympathies...that is so, so hard!
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