Choose Life- the tale of a march and rally

I've been sitting on this blog for a while because I didn't know how I wanted to convey it. I want to do justice to the organizers of the event I am about to describe and to acknowledge the important progress that was made that day for the cause of life. I want to encourage people who actively promote the cause of life. At the same time, I have to be honest about what I saw and experienced. In other words, I don't want to denigrate anyone, but I do want to express a deep frustration and sense of urgency I have about this particular cause.

Let me start by saying that there is no cause more noble than to take up the cause of the protection of the Unborn. The pro-life movement encompasses much more than abortion, of course, as it has for a goal the protection of human life from conception until natural death, as we say in the Catholic Church. But I think the most important facet of the movement is the protection of the unborn, because these days there is a flat out WAR declared against them and they have NO voice. Satan has had a field day with our society in particular since the sixties and the normalization of birth control, and through it people are literally dying. There's no doubt about it: Abortion hurts everyone.

The kids and I (well, my two daughters.... I left my son at home because I didn't feel that I was operating on enough sleep to keep THREE toddlers in line and safe at a busy, possibly dangerous event like this one) went to a Pro-Life March on Saturday. It was a statewide event designed to push the pro-life cause in the State capital before the Country-wide rally held in Washington DC every year (Which happens to be tomorrow, as a matter of fact.)
I had never been to a pro-life march and rally and had no idea what to expect.

We left early enough in the morning so that it felt like we were going on an adventure. Lumped into a big bus with a friend's family, the kids talked in hushed excited voices and we sipped coffee and water and worked on waking up. We started the day with Mass at a Parish I really love in Raleigh. I was very excited since the Bishop was saying mass-- and was not disappointed.
Their day began with a 7 am rosary, followed by what was called the "Reading of the Names." I didn't know what this was, but I knew when everyone stood up and looked solemnly over at the shrine of Our Lady where the Cantor was preparing to chant the names that it was going to be intense. And it was.... the Reading of the Names was an almost half hour straight chanting of the "given" names of babies that had been killed in abortion through Project Rachel. In essence, we were hearing the names of each child that had died that year because of abortion. Not cool.

Like the saddest funeral in the world, the cantor's melodic rhythm continued as he called out a seemingly unending list of names. It took exactly three names for me to start crying. By about twelve I was a near wreck. I watched the incense rise towards heaven and asked the souls of these beautiful babies who weren't even given a chance to pray for us all.

This event set the tone for the Mass, which was beautiful. And at one point I realized that I was standing right next to a gigantic, gorgeous statue of St Gerard Majella. I prayed for my sisters who are trying to conceive and asked him to intercede for them. It didn't seem like an accident that I was standing there holding my beautiful little "mistake," the snoodle, and periodically glancing over at my gorgeous "surprise," who was behaving herself relatively well for this mass, excited as she was to "go to Raleigh to save babies."

Shortly after a quick break at a favorite Catholic bookstore, where unbelievably my dear St Brighid made herself known to me AGAIN, we found ourselves standing in a big public square looking at a huge stage where a young girl was belting out praise songs. She raised up enthusiasm with a souled-up chorus of "God is in control" followed by "It's a new day." And in that I found that I was getting excited. More and more people were showing up and it seemed to be the perfect family event-- kids and parents in solidarity holding signs and gathering around to hear the speakers.

There was hushed excitement in the air, and everyone seemed to be polite and thoughtful. There was a tremendous sense of unity that reminded me of why I had enjoyed political manifestations as a teenager and college student. Hope floated over the crowd and touched down in each heart. The speakers began.

First, our Bishop opened us up in prayer. He chose NOT to make the sign of the cross, a concession to the protestants there, I assume, and while it irked me, I understood what his reasoning behind it might be. United in prayer, protestants, Catholics and even secular atheists/agnostics acknowledged that this cause was the most important one we could address if we were going to change the world one step at a time.
Next, we heard what seemed like an endless, droning list of reasons why our senators and congressmen who "cared deeply" about the issue of Life couldn't be with us at the rally. It felt silly to me-- like a reminder that they didn't care enough to be there. But they had each written a letter, so listen we must.

Next came the testimony of a woman who was a pro-life advocate and adoption advocate. She seemed very genuine and real, and acknowledged that while she had been asked to keep her comments secular and focused on politics, she felt compelled to share her testimony instead, which she did in a very heartfelt, careful manner. You could tell this woman's heart was set on fire by the Holy Spirit and that she just wanted to share in that with everyone. I hadn't heard anyone talk like that in quite a while, so it made me reminisce about my protestant days and that sense of URGENCY we had in sharing "Jesus as our Lord and Savior" with everyone within earshot as loudly as we possibly could.

Right after that came the flood for me, a dense rain of bizarre experiences that culminated in giving me the creepy crawlies. And this is where it got very, very strange. A woman, who was introduced as Angela something-or-other with a pHD, began to speak. And her speech was disturbing. She was a feminist, it was clear, and a hardlined one. She spoke of the injuries to women over abortion-- and gave grim, grisly and utterly disgusting descriptions of nightmare scenarios like rape, molestation, abuse, etc. We were furious that the teenaged girls in the crowd were hearing what she was saying.
She spoke about these things with such vehemence that I could imagine the shower of spittle coming down from her mouth and into the crowd. Honestly, it reminded me of riot grrrl rallies and the like that I used to attend as a sullen teen. This was not the culture of life. This was the culture of death, of fear, of destruction. This was about women trying to survive. All the sense of comraderie and "family togetherness" I had had from the rally evaporated within minutes of this woman taking the microphone, and a sudden, noticeable chill began to work its' way up my back. I couldn't put my finger on it at first, but I just knew that SOMETHING wasn't right. The sense of heaviness and darkness that had begun to weigh on me was so intense I actually walked away from the crowds and took out my rosary. As the kids played in circles around me my fingers ran circles around the beads as I tried desperately to lift the sense of impending .... ickiness... that had settled over me.
I was not surprised to find that the friend I had come with was trying to catch her breath also. Like me, she clutched at her rosary and began to pray. It became very clear to me that an entire "other" faction had taken over the rally and that the message was ever so slightly-- and ever so ominously-- different.

The rally suddenly went from being about FAITH, to being about FEAR. And darkness settled in.
I noticed other Catholics in the crowd had begun a rosary as well. I tried to shake off the creepy feeling and find unity in that, but it was too late.

Shortly thereafter the march began, and we headed down into the street. Up until that time there had been dozens of cars driving by and honking, people making comments out the windows. But as we began to march, I got the most bizarre feeling of "aloneness." The downtown buildings loomed overhead like menacing giants and I noticed that there was no "common chant" in the crowd. For the most part, people were silent or conversing with neighboring sign holders around them. At no point did someone start up a rallying cry or begin to shout or sing. I kept praying my rosary, and so did, I noticed, lots of Catholics around me. Suddenly, it dawned on me that there was an absolutely miserable lack of clergy and religious present. I think I saw maybe ten priests ,one brother, and one sister the whole march, which, quite honestly, is a terrible shame. Did Catholics have something better to do that day than promote the culture of life?

So quietly we marched, holding loud signs, up the streets of Raleigh and NO WHERE, and I mean NOWHERE did I see another person-- a passerby, an accidental encounter, a vehicle waiting for us to pass. Nowhere. The handful of people at stoplights watching were older pro lifers who couldn't march but wanted to participate. It seemed to me as though the streets of downtown Raleigh, the Capital of North Carolina, just happened to be empty that day. And yet the MINUTE that the march was over, I noticed, the streets were busy and normal again-- all of a sudden people in suits with coffee were walking around talking on cell phones. So bizarre.

But we marched...we held our signs high and we prayed. My three year old shouted to everyone she saw: "The badguys are killing babies! We're marching to save them! Save the babies!"

On the way out, we stopped to get some refreshements and to change the babies and use the bathroom. I was downstairs in the bathroom, alone, when my darling newest child decided to just EXPLODE. She pooped so much (and if you breastfeed, baby poop is basically just liquid) that she wrecked her clothes, the changing table, the floor-- even the insides of the buckles on the changing table. Of course, this was after we had been using baby wipes like they were going out of style on tables, chairs ,etc where the babies were sitting. So I had ONE baby wipe left. And the changing table was out of reach of the paper towels. And my diaper bag was in the car. And it was freezing outside.

Looking back, I think God gave me this little incident to remind me that children ARE an inconvenience. Everything about that scenario was a nightmare, and it sucked, and it was embarrassing, and messy, and a huge nuissance. But it was COMMON. As I sat there with one hand on my baby and the other elbow deep in poop, waiting for someone to happen into the bathroom, not run, and to hand me a wad of paper towels, I realized that I was experienced now enough at motherhood to understand that not only do these things happen, but they need to happen. They need to happen because we need to lose ourselves and our ridiculous sense of self-importance and instead to pour ourselves into others-- what better way to do that than to put us in charge of a being who cannot care for himself? I was also impressed with the grace which God gave me to handle that situation. Instead of allowing the situation to frustrate me, I just laughed and giggled with the baby, cooing at her and tsk tsking her for saving all that up for the ONE day I was hours from home. I think I'm getting used to being a mom, three babies later. :)

In the end, I think the march was a bittersweet event. I do NOT believe, (unlike most pro-life activists, it seems) that I will ever see abortion abolished in my time. I believe that this great evil will continue to exist, and that it will continue to be accepted. I'm not a pro-life activist because I think I'm going to change legislation or change the world. Instead, I think I do it so I can teach my kids to do it-- so I can create in my own family a CULTURE of life which is communicable to the outside world, and which will be shared with those who have ears to hear the message of Christ, that every person matters. I think that what God wanted to allow me to see was how Satan was trying to steal the pro-life movement, to distort it and change its message from a celebration of the dignity of human life to a necessary step for protection because of our fear.

Ultimately, my entire weekend was a weekend in which I was made aware of the warfare over our heads. After the tangible darkness I felt in the actual march and rally, the next day at Church was even more bizarre. My husband, priest and I saw three separate incidents in which people were acting very, very, strange around the Eucharist. Shortly after the tabernacle was closed, everyone had received, and the priest returned to his seat, I felt a jarring, hard punch in the back of my head, followed by a heavy weight against my back.I nearly fell over the front of the pew. I struggled for some time, and finally found myself face to face with this person who was having some sort of seizure and had fallen on me. Because I held the baby I couldn't help her, but she and I did this bizarre dance and struggle for nearly a minute before anyone around us noticed to help, and it was nearly four minutes before my husband or hers noticed! Very odd experience. Her children seemed completely unphased, as if this was normal behavior, and her husband was not wanting any help or assistance which made it even weirder.

I was shaken, particularly since a woman I knew had had an almost identical unexplainable seizure while sitting in the exact same spot a year before. Later that day, it seemed pretty clear to me and the woman I had gone with that some type of severe spiritual warfare was going on over our heads. Was this because we participated in a pro-life march? Because we NOTICED the visible darkness over the march and began to pray over it? What exactly caused this insanely thick darkness to descend over the weekend? I have no idea. All I know is that it lifted on Monday morning as quickly as it had descended, and in its place I found the solace of routine, family structure, and our normal lives.

But for a second- just for a fleeting instant-- my Spirit-woman was quickened and it was like I had open eyes to see the importance of the abortion issue in the spiritual realm.

All the saints of heaven, pray for the pro-life movement. Particularly tomorrow as they march on Washington DC in solidarity.

If you were at the Raleigh march, I'd love to hear you opinions of how the event went.