Civics Day

Praying for babies at a local abortion clinic

I rarely write on this blog about praying at abortion clinics: it's not a topic that engenders warm-and-fuzzy feelings. I have thought much about why I felt a desire to write about it this week. I know I have loved ones who are pro-choice and love me despite this difference in opinion. I know I have blog readers whose minds I won't change in this regard at this time. I don't want to inspire anger in others and I don't want people to dislike me. The reason I occasionally highlight our praying at the abortion mills is to reach out to the fellow pro-life believing friends who feel a tiny inner calling also to be a witness at the clinics, but are too afraid. If that's you, I'm talking to you!

If you are afraid, it would be helpful to examine what you are afraid of.

Some friends have told me, "I want to go pray there sometime, but I don't think I could take it, it would hurt so much." Indeed, I continue to be moved deeply every time I pray at the clinics. It's a rare time I get through it without crying. The security guards--who at our clinic are big thugs who look like gangsters--park their private vehicles right at the entrance to the parking lot and blare ghetto rap music. It is so hard to pray my Rosary with the beat of the rap thumping in my skull and the nasty lyrics. It truly feels hellish to me in a real way.

Yet so often I get to be inspired and rejuvenated in my faith by seeing prayer warriors much stronger than weak and worried little me. Friday I got to pray alongside a lady, Z----, who is in her 70s or 80s, white hair and walking with her bad leg. She's been out there a lot lately and is clearly beyond caring what people are going to think of her or even do to her. She loudly calls out loving words to women in hurting situations. She boldly walks up to cars driving on the public road to offer them literature on fetal development. Friday I watched as repeatedly she'd stand right at the line between public and private property, offering brochures, and the hulking thug who weighs probably 300 pounds stood right on the other side of that invisible line, nothing but inches of air between them. Really? We need scary "bouncers" to fend off little old ladies? We need nasty rap music to drown out the sounds of mothers praying their rosaries and young children giggling?

Meanwhile, children play along the sidewalk, being joyful, sweet, and innocent. The older children who understand more are actually praying or doing their own sidewalk counseling. Some parents are afraid of ill effects from taking children with them when they pray at clinics. Taking children to the clinics does not have to be traumatizing--but, yes, it almost surely will be sad--and it is supported strongly by pro-life leaders, such as Fr. Frank Pavone and Flip Benham of Operation Save America. Honestly, I'm perplexed why it is acceptable (even what a "fun" parent does) to show children scary media about fake subject matter (e.g., dinosaurs eating men, or white storm troopers in battle) that would certainly keep my kids up at night having nightmares, but it's too indelicate to answer honestly their dawning age-appropriate questions about a real life horror that won't keep them up at night but will probably make them cry? My children might hear some swear words or ugly shouts at the clinics and some parents might criticize us for allowing our kids to hear that: but is there the same criticism for parents who themselves swear around their kids ('oh, just can't break the habit!' ha ha!) or let their kids watch, even in the background, typical modern sitcoms that use bad language? (Here's a little tip I learned from another mom at the clinic: Teach your children to respond immediately to the instructions, "Plug your ears!" and "Close your eyes!")

Some people have expressed to me an image of what they think it's like in front of clinics and they don't want to be a part of that. Do you think that, while you're pro-life, you don't want to seem mean, preach fire and brimstone on a loud speaker, or show graphic photos of what the abortive-minded mothers are about to cause? None of those things are necessary when praying at clinics. Many folks simply pray and don't even move in to sidewalk counseling proper. Just heads down and pray, that's it. Those who do sidewalk counseling can use only loving words, offers of help, and prayers for that women to find peace in her heart instead of the turmoil she is now feeling.

If you feel that your presence won't matter much either way, let me illustrate otherwise. Right now I am reading daily email updates from the current 40 Days for Life campaign. I get to read about the saves (as they're called) every single day.

The people showing up to an abortion clinic are mostly not slick, well-educated folks exercising their free choice. We on the praying side of the lines get to talk to too many of them to fall for that media lie. Mostly these are impoverished people of ethnic minorities (the ones who have been targeted by Planned Parenthood ever since Margaret Sanger founded it: see here). Many of these women will talk to us and outright admit that they don't want to do this: they feel they have no option, they don't have the money, or--very often--the boyfriend is forcing them (sometimes even by threats and violence). It's amazing how high a percentage of these hurting women and men make a different choice when they actually talk to us and are given a choice to do otherwise: medical support for free, support with raising the child, prayer support, emotional support, safety from violent intimidation. It's my personal experience that most of the people showing up to these places of death do not feel that they have a choice whatsoever.

So, do those abortive-minded women and couples showing up for appointments deserve to be offered help? Or is shouting to them across the public-private line which we cannot cross an interference, an offense to them, an infringement of their rights to remain uninformed? Perhaps they could have just looked up online for help before making their decision. Surely they would know where to go to get assistance, right? Well, maybe not. Maybe they're ignorant. Maybe they're clueless. Maybe they're downright stupid. Don't even the ignorant, clueless, and stupid people who don't actually want to abort their babies equally deserve to be offered information about help available to them? If you think you wouldn't be doing much help, know that just your mere showing up might mean you're the person there to help someone out of a choice they don't want to make.

If praying at abortion clinics is something you've long considered doing and have hesitated to try, I encourage you. Perhaps go on a day that is less busy (usually Fridays and Saturdays are by far the busiest) to try it out. You're there to be Christ, you're there to serve Christ in others.

That same Friday, we headed over to the federal courthouse in the afternoon to participate in the nationwide Rally for Religious Freedom in response to the HHS mandate. Here in Charlotte, several hundred people showed up. The many children playing in the grass will most remember being able to catch countless inch worms. (That night during bedtime prayers, my children thanked God for getting to play with inch worms.)

On our walk back to the vans, my friend and I stopped in to get ice creams for the children.

I really don't feel like our each having three children is very many, but we spent several hours downtown and I think it was unmistakable that we were receiving various stares (seemingly of shock and awe) from the many career folks wearing slick suits who work downtown in the banking district of this fairly large city. We even received nasty shouting from one suit-clad woman. I definitely felt out of place!

Counting with Beads

Heretofore, John has shown no interest in or understanding of counting along with the rosary beads. Each evening, we pray the family rosary and he hasn't followed along, needing to be prompted at every single bead, "Another Hail Mary, honey." It didn't seem that complicated to me and I didn't know why he wasn't understanding the concept at five years old.

Then this week, the abacus was introduced in our new math curriculum. John learned how to count one bead at a time, to make "stairs," and to see things in unit of fives.

That very night, John suddenly had a light in his eyes during Rosary time. He asked me to show him how the beads work, so I did. He began counting along. He'd shout out, as if having a "Eureka" moment: "We're on Bead Four! Six more left! We're on Bead Five . . . five more left!" It was so delightful that I actually laughed my way through the Rosary that night.

Interestingly, starting the night he discovered how the beads work, his involvement in praying aloud increased greatly. He went from praying only his one assigned decade in a mumbling voice to asking to pray all the decades and doing so in a loud, manly manner. I know it won't be that way every night, but it sure has been enjoyable.

Chris and I are loving the improvement!

SOS: When Do You Sew?

I have not been able to sew anything in about one year.

Please, my blog readers who sew regularly, tell me how you manage it!

I was able to get a few outfits sewn after Margaret was born because I had parish volunteers bringing us meals for six whole weeks and the newborn slept a lot or was content in my sling. I think the last thing I've sewn might have been Margaret's Easter outfit last year, the only other sewing occurring in a whole year being the children's All Saints' costumes.

My time is used up tending to all my duties as a homemaker--and with that I feel like I'm barely hanging on, meals are extremely simple, and I don't take on too much outside the home. Even though I have an afternoon sitter a few days per week for the two older kids, that time is used for me to do necessary errands and chores. And, sure, some activities I do are extraneous, like planting a garden, but a garden is something I can easily do  with children and, in fact, they love it. Sewing is not something I can do with children.

Early mornings: The children are up by 6:30. Before that, I'm drinking coffee, not sewing.

Nap time: The kids are good about staying in Quiet Time now, but the baby's naps are not highly routinized. I have no idea how to get a baby on routine naps while having a life with two older kids who have places to go and things to do. Plus, Chris is gone very often (for example, for the last three of four weeks!), and when he is gone the baby takes most of her naps on my back in the Ergo because I can't take the time away from the big kids to nurse her to sleep oh-so gently and peacefully. And, yes, I tried outright crying it out over the course of months and it didn't get us anywhere better.

Regular old daytime: The big kids can occupy themselves if I tell them, "This is Mama's sewing time," but the baby does not tolerate it. She doesn't even tolerate my being on the computer. She just sits there and screams. I've tried outlasting her, but it's hard to have a baby screaming at my ankles for half an hour and just keep on ignoring her. I do it, but it hasn't improved in a year.

After the children's bedtimes: My brain is so fried after the children are finally asleep (7:00-8:00 p.m.) that I can't even follow a sewing pattern. Plus that brief two hours or so I need to finish cleaning the kitchen, then have about one hour of computer time because I try to make it a rule not to be on the computer for more than a few minutes while the children are awake.

So how on earth are you ladies getting so much sewing done? Clearly, my girls are not going to have homemade sewn dresses for Easter this year and I'm very disappointed about that.

God Sees Our Chocolate Powder

I had just come home from Confession and was making dinner, with Mary as my little cooking companion. Mary disappeared for a couple of minutes, then emerged, at which point I realized she had been silently doing mischief in the pantry.

"Mary, have you been eating something in the pantry?" (I should not have asked her a direct question when I knew the answer already--putting her in a position to lie--but old habits die hard.)

"No," said with a sweet smile.

Now picture that my three-and-a-half-year-old was covered in unsweetened cocoa powder all over her face and the front of her shirt. I got a "confession" out of her, gently wiped off her face, and gave her a "penance" (time out).

Having just come from sacramental Confession, it occurred to me in that moment that God sees us as that little preschooler with chocolate powder all over face as we deny, perhaps even to ourselves, that we did anything wrong. Even as we walk about our daily life with venial sins accumulating inside us--and we hope no mortal sins, but perhaps even those--God can see them as clear as day, even if we put on a good picture for others in our lives.

So, in the spirit of Lent, I remind my Catholic friends to get yourselves to Confession and get that "chocolate powder" lovingly wiped off your face!

A Knight and a Lady

On Thursday I led this month's La Leche League meeting, taking Margaret with me as usual.

Meanwhile, John was invited to his first boys' only drop-off playdate with a friend of mine, so I took him over on my way to the meeting. John, above, is dressed up as St. George.

Back at home, Mary stayed with our regular and beloved babysitter, Miss Rachel. They had a most delightful girls' tea party! Miss Rachel served pinwheel sandwiches (hummus, red bell peppers, flat bread), shortbread sweets, peanut butter-and-honey sandwiches, blueberry muffins, and Clementine oranges with herbal cherry tea--any food that could be cut into a heart was cut into a heart!

Miss Rachel even brought a pink table cloth and a special pink mug. They used my pink tea pot, my grandmother's cut glass plates, and festooned the table with pink flowers from the garden.

What a memorable day!

Strawberries Planted

This week, we planted nine strawberry plants plus one basil and one purple oregano plant.

My precious good helpers

When I'm really focused on the garden (e.g., my hands are actually deep in dirt and plants), I take those few minutes and contain Margaret in the stroller. She's quite content in there for short periods because she likes watching us.

But when I'm doing easy walk-around chores, like pruning and watering, or if I'm sitting and reading a book, Margaret spends the bulk of our outdoor time walking around herself.

After planting those soon-to-be succulent strawberries, suddenly I had a vision of how easily birds could swoop and squirrels could leap into my garden from above. Another trip to the hardware store and I procured bird netting which I affixed over the top, plus used to close the little gaps at the bottom where bunnies could hop right in.

I could hardly see the netting until the next day when all the pollen worm-shaped thingies had fallen from the trees and clung to the netting. I don't think the picture captures how funny those zillions of golden "worms" looked, flapping in the breeze.

The seedlings looking great

The creeping phlox is already blooming!

Such joy for them! Such bounty of blessings for me!

Swimming Show and Tell Day 1

Once a month, the children's swim school has a "show and tell day" in which the parents can go on the other side of the glass to poolside. The teacher talks to us, tells us what skills they're working on, how our children are doing, and we may take photos. What fun! Mary's teacher is taking a leave of absence, so she had her show-and-tell day one week early. Next week will be John! Anyway, it's no surprise that Mary is all smiles through every swim lesson so far.

Margaret Turns One!

FIVE DAYS BEFORE DELIVERY

BIRTH

ONE MONTH OLD 

TWO MONTHS OLD

THREE MONTHS OLD

FOUR MONTHS OLD

FIVE MONTHS OLD

SIX MONTHS OLD

SEVEN MONTHS OLD

EIGHT MONTHS OLD

NINE MONTHS OLD

TEN MONTHS OLD

ELEVEN MONTHS OLD

ONE YEAR OLD!

Miss Margaret is such a gift to our family. Sometimes I can't believe how blessed we are to have three little souls to raise.

In terms of baby milestones: Margaret is now walking everywhere fast, jumping on the trampoline, and ascending the stairs to the top, even when she's carrying something in one hand. She seems to enjoy food of all different textures and flavors, although she still gets about 75%, I guess, of her calories from me. She has four top teeth, two bottom teeth, and is currently cutting two bottom molars (and having about as much fun with that experience as you'd expect). If you were to ask Margaret about her progress sleeping through the night, she would laugh heartily in response. Margaret signs ALL DONE and MORE. She says "mama," "dada," "die" (for diaper) and "ah dah" (for all done). And the very night before her birthday, she began signing BYE while saying "aye" for bye-bye. She shows very good receptive language and will do cute little things I request, for example, "Margaret, put the sock in the drier" or "Give kisses to Mama!" So far, Margaret seems quite laid back and relaxed, not counting that she is a mama's girl and the fastest way to see her start screaming is for me to set her down or step out of the room.

Happy birthday, Margaret Anne!

Edit: The eve before Margaret's first birthday, my little sister delivered a baby daughter! Congratulations to she and her husband on the birth of Baby Melissa!!!