Dear Abortion Doctor – A Big, Beautiful Birth Story (Part 6) 40 Days and No Peace to Leave

Read from the beginning of the story: Click Here

Early Days at the Abortion Clinic

Day 5 on Facebook

Near the end of our time together, after the singing/praying, a man and his partner walked by. He stared at us in a semi-friendly fashion. I can’t remember what “M” (a 40 Days participant) said, but nothing confrontational.

He replied, “What are you doing?” In a nice but almost, “You have been caught doing something wrong.” tone. Then, he hunched toward us putting his face nearer and said calmly-sternly “Shame! Shame! Shame!”
I said calmly back, “We are praying for peace in the womb, for peace for women.”
“Shame. And you are not supposed to talk!” He commanded smugly.
Alright buddy. You got me on that one. It sort of gave me a chuckle. We aren’t there to debate or confront, it’s part of the deal with the 40days vigil.
I am thinking of that moment today as I read the 40days daily email:

“On the first day of the campaign, a man approached one of the volunteers in Windsor and said, “I just want to shake your hand!”

He went on to explain that “We were going to have an abortion and when we got here someone was outside with a sign and praying and because of that we decided not to have the abortion.”
He said they saw this vigil participant as a sign that they should not go through with the abortion. According to Laurie in Windsor, “Our volunteer reported that he was elated. Praise the Lord!”(Excerpt from 40daysforlife email)

Is it a shame? Is it really a shame that someone dares stand where someone dares look for a sign that would spare their unborn child from the lies of abortion. I should say not! We will not be ashamed.


asthma

Day 10 on Facebook

#40daysforlife #timetomourn #slowfeet #angryhearts #itsover
Although I wished to greet #dearabortiondoctor in the driveway before he began his day (again), Isaac’s rough night, cold, and asthma made that impossible. While I had cared for Isaac, I engaged in hours of twitter conversation with an abortion doctor and her followers, cementing in my heart the desperate need for prayer. Friday hit me like a ton of bricks.

We squeezed in a short visit to the clinic before our afternoon school pickup, choosing a spot on the parking lot wall by the dumpster and Doctor’s car. There were no sidewalk advocates present.

My knees hit the asphalt. Today I can’t stand. Isaac and Lily sit carefully on the wall.

Grandma and Grandpa exit their truck. Grandpa walks many paces ahead of Grandma. Both heads hang low. Feet trudge in slow motion toward the clinic. It’s over. What’s been done is done. They will get their girl now and take her home.

This parking lot is heavy, so much heavier than the morning lot. My eyes well up. Now, we need you dear Jesus. We need you more than ever right now. It is the end of the last abortion day of the week. For three days straight, wave after wave of women, procedure after procedure, pick up after pick up. Doctor and nurses are now cleaning up the last of the blood, from gloved hands, instruments, pads, tables, floors, and sinks, the canisters of “Medical Waste”-full, the wombs empty … It is over. Weekend has come.

Yes, on one hand it is a relief that this will end (at least here) for three-possibly four short days.

But now they are gone. The babies are all gone and this bitter moment is a type of funeral for the unknown, the unnamed and their families. For these little ones there is no longer a hope for life or protection here on this earth. No prayer can bring them back. It feels especially cruel because inside my own womb a small baby just like those lost here this week hides safe and full of life, and my dear children reach to comfort me as I cry.

I sob while the Kari Jobe song of the mornings past plays on my iPhone,

“The moon and stars they wept
The morning sun was dead
The Savior of the world was fallen …”

The song is true while I feel the sting of death sharp in my chest now, “His perfect love cannot be overcome.” He is resurrected and present. He is working in and through it all. I still trust him.

Grandma and Grandpa exit stiffly, walking more that an arm’s length apart – without their girl. Anger now masks their grief. Grandma snips some harsh, intelligible words towards him as she reaches the truck.

I am reminded of one dear post abortive friend’s quote,
“… abortion fills you with hate …”

Hate that only the King of Love can heal. “The Lamb has overcome.”


Now you have an idea of the way it all began, and why.

Every morning, before dawn we rushed about dressing according to the weather forecast. As the sun would rise we sang praise to the Lord on that sidewalk greeting each of the clinic workers and doctor with a smile and a wave. As we stood at the driveway we offered up a prayer of blessing for all who passed, “Lord, please touch their hearts in a life sustaining way. Rescue them from the lie that death is the only solution to their situation right now.”

We celebrated when lives were spared. We grieved the unfairness of abortion, a cruel thief of hope and beauty.

A pregnancy checkup during the long 40 Days.
It was always fun to hear Noah’s heartbeat at our appointment.

As we stood day in and day out, it was never lost on me that I held the power to cross the drive, enter the clinic and purchase this fate for my baby.

As the end of the 40 Days Campaign drew near I prayed for peace to stop going to the clinic. It never came. On through the long winter we trekked to pray each of the four days a week the clinic saw patients. The flow of the clinic schedule ordered my week.

For my own sanity and my children’s sake I tried to put the clinic out of my mind on weekends and just get back to life, I could …almost.

I wondered if the Doctor or clinic workers ever felt the same way. Or maybe they enjoyed their work and the comradery here because they believed they were helping women?

It is funny how prayer and service shapes you. I was seeing evidence of this at the end of the dinner prayer as Isaac and Lily now expanded it to “Please help the Doctor to receive your message and your love, and all the clinic workers, and the mothers, and help the Doctor to stop killin babies!”

Prayer was enlarging our hearts with more LOVE.

Buttercup chewing Isaac's hat outside Heritage Clinic for Women
Buttercup kept herself entertained by chewing on Isaac’s hat.

Part 7, SIDEWALK ADVOCATES FOR LIFE and Our Ultrasound: Click Here


 

Check this out! 419 Workers Have Quit

“I really don’t want to be here, and I don’t want to even participate in one more abortion.” Shelley Guillory

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