Pouring rain does not begin to describe the deluge for my abortion mill sidewalk counseling day. It was grey, and cold, and gloomy. The rain was tumbling out of the sky like a cosmic Niagara Falls. There were rivers rushing down the gutter. Within minutes I was soaked, water squishing out of my sneakers, and chilled to the bone. I cannot tell you how much I wished I owned rain boots.The first deep puddle I ignored in hailing a woman about to enter the chamber of death, my socks became sodden, freezing masses of numbing torture. The soaking chill permeated every molecule of my body and my fingers and toes were soon anesthetized blobs. My teeth were literally chattering as I called out, "Please don't k-k-k-kill your baby!"
There was a new woman there, praying on the sidewalk. She didn't have an umbrella. She bowed her head in prayer, standing in the downpour. It was her first time at an abortion mill. Welcome to the floodgates of Hell!
She looked crushed. Wet and crushed.
"Are there always this many cars?" she asked quietly. We nodded.
"Every day?" she asked.
We nodded again.
"It is so ...real," she said. She hadn't known. No one who hasn't been there knows.
I knew she would go home after this experience and cry all day... as we all do the first time we witness the people flocking in such hideous numbers to murder their unborn babies.
I paced, as I always do. Sometimes I pace in prayer. This day I paced to try to regain feeling in my sopping wet toes. A few people stopped their cars on their way into the abortion mill, and let me speak to them. Most of them lied. They know what they are doing is wrong. Seared consciences often try to salve the pain with lies. I have been told to always assume the truth is they are there for abortions, though they will tell us all kinds of stories. I glanced with just a small bit of jealousy at the counselors who wore rain boots as I stood in the deep puddles, counseling the women. Rebekah's boots were especially lovely.
But back to the reason I was there standing in the flood.
"Oh, I'm not here for an abortion," said one woman I stopped.
"Honey, that's all they do here," I said.
She paused.
"Let me give you my literature," I said, wondering how sound waves could make it through that wall of rain.
She took it and began leafing through it but refused the offer to go for the pro-life free ultrasound in the RV parked by the curb.
Another rolled down her window, and I asked if we could encourage her to take the free ultrasound. She shook her head.
"How far along are you?" I asked, wiping the dripping rain from my brow.
She shrugged.
"The ultrasound will show you, and we do free pregnancy tests there as well," I said. I opened my literature and showed her the list of resources that could help her, but her eyes fell on the small photo of an aborted baby. She gasped. Celia, another counselor joined me then, and tried to talk her into the ultrasound as well. The woman then began crying, and Celia asked if the woman had already had the abortion and was here for the follow-up. The woman nodded, crying now as the remorse and guilt hit her. While Celia spoke of God's grace and forgiveness and the chance now to follow a new path, I gave her the literature we have for post-abortive women. We gave her our phone numbers and told her that any time she wanted to speak with us, we would be there for her.
I would bet money the abortion mill had not counseled her about the very common guilt, revulsion, and despair that follows women who abort their child. Most of those women have likely never seen what abortion does to the baby, let alone consider what it will do to their psyche when the truth and magnitude of what they have done hits them. Normally, we have signs with us to show them the horror of abortion and its effects on that poor baby, but in the pouring rain, the signs would be ruined.
There were no "saves" we knew of that frigid rainy day. But at least there was one broken sorrowful heart that we had been able to share the love and forgiveness of God with, and hand her literature that might possibly keep her from ever returning to this path of destruction again. It was worth the soaked numb toes for that alone. Sin always seems so easy, so gentle, so rational....until it turns around with a roaring mouth and razor sharp teeth and begins to gnaw upon our tortured souls.
Praise God for the sweet counsel of my soaked friend, Celia, pouring out the only hope and salvation possible in the midst of that terrible place to the mourning woman before us. She stood with drenched sneakers, and jeans soaking water up her legs like a sponge. Praise God for His mercy and grace that alone can free us from the monster of sin. Praise God for rain boots, I thought, glancing at Rebekah's colorful rainboots, covering dry and toasty warm toes.
Later, as we all huddled under warm blankets in our homes, Rebekah, had a brainstorm and wrote to the group.
"We should put our message on our umbrellas since we can't carry our signs in the rain! Maybe someone could sponsor the counselors and get them custom printed umbrellas and rain boots with our message on them!"
"Great idea!" I wrote, "And while they are at it, they could sponsor us for a restorative trip to Hawaii!"
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If you would like to donate to our "Sponsor A Counselor With Boots and Umbrellas", you can designate your donation by visiting http://www.charlotte.cities4life.org/ . Donations for the restorative Hawaii trip could be made to me directly. ;-D
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Vickie, beautiful! Thanks for sharing your experience and your thoughts. Clear expression of the combination of grief, obedience and worship "at the gate"
ReplyDeleteRussell
thank you Russell. as a fellow soldier at the Gate, i know you understand
DeleteYou could paint them and sell them!!!!!!!!
ReplyDeleteDo you mean paint the umbrellas? What would you paint them with?
Delete