On my way to the clinic today I missed an exit which delayed me by about ten minutes. Now I will not arrive before the doors open. Instead of feeling frustrated about that, I told myself that God must have a reason for causing this delay. I was hoping Stan would be at the clinic early to talk with the mothers going in for their abortion. Thank God, he was there early. The parking lot was full. It is a busy Monday for the abortionist and his staff. Stan filled me in on who went inside for an abortion. He said he spoke to every person, and they all took the referral cards. This is helpful because during the wait, the mothers and their escorts will come out for various reasons such as to smoke, get some air, or go to their car. The "waiting line", or "death row" as I call it, is a line of closely spaced chairs in a very small hall area. It looks very uncomfortable, and the wait can be very long because the abortions are done on a first come, first serve basis.

First to come out of the clinic was a fifty-some year old woman. She was crying. I asked her if she is sad about someone inside having an abortion. She said her daughter is inside aborting her gandchild. I told her how sorry I am to hear that. I asked her why her daughter would do such a terrible thing. She said her daughter already has too many kids she can't care for. She said she even offered to take the new born baby herself. I asked the grandmother to bring her out to the sidewalk so I could talk with her. She ignored my request. I asked her if she would go back in and try again to change her daughter's mind before it is too late. I showed her on the card where she could go for help for the unborn baby and for the other children too. I asked her not to give up, and to bring her out to talk with us. She went back inside, but did not come back out.

A very young man came out of the clinic wearing "ghetto" clothes. You know, really saggy pants and a huge red basketball jersey worn over a long sleeve white shirt. He was driven by an older man, who could have been his father, or the father of the very young teenage girl he brought to the clinic. Stan spoke to him, and he listened and took the card. Stan is very good because he is an older man and I think the young men he speaks to have respect for him. He is very kind and soft spoken. He has a rugged looking face with very intense deep blue eyes that you can't help but stare into. The young man and the father took off in a jeep, while the young girl waited alone.

Kathy came to help us at about 9:30AM. She had on her usual warm smile, and we got ready to pray. She said a storm is coming our way, and she first prayed that it would hold off until we finished our litany of prayers. Half way through our prayers, a woman came out of the clinic doors and almost ran down the sidewalk to avoid us. I followed her and caught up to her by the bar next to the abortion clinic. She whirled around to face me. She said, "You can't help me. No one can help me." I smiled at her and said "Yes, it must seem like that, but I promise that I can help you if you give me just a minute to talk with you." She agreed. She is so desparate. I talked to her about a crisis pregnancy center that will help her. She listened, and seemed interested. We talked for awhile, and then she left.

Towards the end of our prayers, we kneel and pray the Chaplet of the Divine Mercy. Before we finished, I jumped up to talk with the young teenage girl that was just coming out of the clinic. She could not have had her abortion yet. I approached her and the poor girl was weeping and sobbing so hard that her little body was shaking. I felt like hugging her, but of course, I did not touch her. She stopped and looked at me. Tears were spilling down her face and her nose was running and she cried out loud. I saw Kathy out of the corner of my eyes shake her head and close her eyes to pray more fervently. I told the girl that she will be alright. I showed her who to call for help. She stopped to listen and took the card, but she could not stop crying. I spoke to her gently. and touched her hand. I told her that if she does the right thing, she will feel better, and everything will be OK. The jeep pulled up, she got in, and they drove away. I went back near Stan and Kathy. I could not join in on the prayers, I could not say anything because I was struggling not to add my own tears to the sidewalk. The rain held off, and Chris took our place with his huge pictures of aborted babies. As we left, I heard him singing his song to the mothers inside that goes, "Jesus loves the little children, all the children of the world...."