Planned Parenthood Denver this Morning

This morning I was back outside Planned Parenthood, praying for the babies, the mothers, the fathers, the grandmothers, the friends, the staff and volunteers of the clinic, and some of the protesters with me that they would know Jesus’ grace.  His grace has meant so much to me.  We’re all just sinners; only accepting God’s grace makes a difference.  That is humbling and unifying. 

I was looking at the signs the pro-lifers had up.  Some make no sense, strange verses that don’t have much to do with babies or life or salvation.  Others are simple and obvious, like “Abortion kills.”  Popular are bloody photographs of what an aborted baby looks like, how old it was, how big, etc.  When the scared, confused, selfish, or arrogant girls drive in, I can’t imagine how they go through with their abortion facing the evidence in front of them.  My bet is that while doctors tend to have posters and pamphlets and full-disclosure of the procedures in other fields, the Planned Parenthood walls were not postered with happy photographs of beheaded infants, though the volunteers who escort women inside cheerfully pretend there is a party inside. 

Even though I see the potential impact of these signs and accompanying rhetoric, I much prefer the other signs.  These are photos of live babies, in the womb or already birthed.  If I had a baby, I’d bring it to the clinic to protest.  The pleas accompanying these signs are, “Please, mom, don’t kill your baby!  Come talk to us.  Any help you need, we’ll get it for you for free.  Is it a boy or a girl they’re going to kill today?” 

I don’t know where the propaganda comes from, but somehow the mothers and abortionists think that we stand shivering in the cold, early Saturday mornings for greedy reasons of our own.  The staff yell back at the protesters trying to intercede for helpless, innocent infants, “You hypocrites!  Judge not.”  We’re called idiots, stupid, and unfeeling. 

But the people out there care.  Almost every family I know that protests also supports crisis pregnancy centers and adoption.  Most have adopted.  If a baby is saved, the mother is not abandoned.  She is mentored, and cared for, and given options.  Some of the women protesting have experienced the life-altering impact of abortions by having one themselves.  Now they know.  They’ve repented.  Many have experienced Jesus’ forgiveness and peace.  And they want to help the girls today to find that peace, as well. 

Today was the first day I went without close friends or family.  When I sit there I don’t know what’s wrong, but I’m emotionless.  I know the facts, and they don’t add up to what I see before me, and maybe the lack of comprehension in my soul overwhelms me and shuts down my feelings.  The first time I went, I was worried that I would do something rash, impulsive, drastic, physical, and illegal.  But I didn’t, and still don’t have very strong urges to do so.  I’m safe, then, going to meet strangers.  Being there on my own moved several of the grandmotherly women to compassion for me, I guess.  They gave me hugs.  I don’t usually hug strangers, but I felt their love, their comaraderie. 

Look.  I’m rambling about my experience, and rarely conclude well.  A blog is one endless conversation; shouldn’t it just transition into the next post?  But I do want to say: do something.  Support a crisis pregnancy center.  Consider adoption.  Protest.  Fund protests.  Write your state and federal congressmen.  Get your church involved.  Give a baby a hug. 

To God be all glory,

Lisa of Longbourn