We are a witness of Christ's love to anyone who sees us talking to people and praying on the sidewalk. We offer our love and we mourn for the babies who have been forsaken by their mother. We pray that God will soften the hearts of the mothers and lead them to choose life. We pray for the conversion of the abortionist and his staff. We pray for the souls of all the mothers, brothers, husbands, and friends who participated in an abortion.

I arrived early today. Good thing since so many women came well before the clinic door unlocked. I spoke with Tamara for some time. She has three children aged thirteen, nine, and three. She said she gets too sick during pregnancy and she can't afford another "one". I gave her information on a doctor who will help her, and for material needs and financial assistance. She took the information. I asked her if she will use it, and leave this place now. She said no, she is having the abortion. We talked about how difficult her life is. I referred back to the help she could receive if only she would take the time to call the people on the card who are WILLING and ABLE to help her. We talked about the baby being a separate and unique person from herself. We talked about her other children. I asked her if she believes in God. She shrugged. She turned her back on me, grabbed the door handle, and then suddenly swung around to look at me. I asked her to slow down and think about talking with the people at the CPC who are experts and want to help her. I asked her to give them a chance for the sake of herself and her baby. I asked her to think about and picture what she is allowing the abortionist to do. For a few moments our eyes locked, she opened her mouth to say something but no words came out. I told her we will be praying for her. She looked down and said, "thanks." Then, she went inside.

The abortion center is busy today. Everyone took my card. All the men stopped to talk. One man came on to the sidewalk alone. He looked angry and anxious. I asked him if he was going inside to be with his friend or wife. He said his girlfriend is inside and he is coming to get her out of there. HMMMM....usually a lie, but this time I think he may be sincere. I pointed out the pitiful decrepid condition of the place. I commented to him that I wouldn't bring a dog to this filthy place, let alone someone I cared about to have such an invasive surgery like an abortion. He looked at the trash stuck in the black lava rock in the front weed beds, and at the peeling paint. He winced. I asked him to please protect her and his child. He took my information, and went inside. His name is Dantell.

Chris came a little early today. He started his singing and preaching at the door. I don't agree with his unrelenting aggressive approach. I am glad that I was able to talk with and hand out information to everyone who came thus far. Chris is very passionate, stays all day, and is successful with some poeple to turn them away from an abortion. But, I believe the kinder and gentler approach works best to get the information for help in their hands and talk with them about options. I don't like being with Chris because he causes confrontations with people, and I think that is dangerous and counter-productive. His aborted baby pictures scare people. We could debate who has the better approach all day long. To his credit, he is out in front of the abortion clinic all day long!

Jane and Joe came to pray. We said our various prayers, prayed a rosary, the Chaplet of the Divine Mercy (on our knees) and then started to walk away. Just as I got to the corner, a car pulled in. I went back to talk with the mother heading for the abortion center. She was a very tall large white woman. I walked up to her and she put her hand out to signal me to stop. She screamed at me to fuck off, and she said that she hopes I die and go to hell, and that she hates my guts, and will murder me if I come near her. I told her that I am sorry I upset her. I said maybe if she feels better while she waits, she would consider coming back out to look at information that could help her. I braced myself for another barage of insults, but she looked me over, up and down, and went inside.

A man and woman left without having the abortion. She was clutching my referral card, and smiled and waved to me. I did not feel that the Holy Spirit wanted me to approach them the second time. I prayed for them immediately. It is not for me to know God's plan for them, but I still watched them drive away and wondered how it will all turn out for them.

A short heavy white man with a lot of hair and a bitter look on his face walked by. I greeted him and asked him if he was going inside the abortion center. He stopped and looked at me. I could tell that he was working up a mouthful of spit to eject on something or someone; I assumed on me. He shot the mouthful of spit on the front of the building near the door. He walked up to me, and this time, I backed up. He screamed at me, "I hate this fucking place." Then he apologized to me and walked on. I have been cursed at so often at this abortion center that I think differently about the use of vulgar language. It turns me off so much that I try more than ever to never use it, and I have asked people not to use it in front of me. That is a switch from my past.

As I drove away from this Hell, I pictured the faces of the women I spoke to today. Young, pretty, soft faces with red teary eyes. I know that if they have the abortion they will have the same face, but will be totally different inside. I mentally revisited our conversations. I thought about how their babies will be dismembered, sucked into a jar, and tossed inside a dumpster. I started to feel depressed. Then I remembered what Laura from the Lennon Center told me. She said that I should ALWAYS leave the abortion center praising and thanking God that He chose me to be the one to bring Christ to all who come and go in front of the abortion center. She said to let them see Jesus through my smile and kind words before they go inside. So, I stopped at my church, and praised and thanked God in front of the tabernacle for using me and my wonderful companions as His instruments to do His work. When I pray like that, I get a little teary eyed too.