Around 30 of us gathered near the Avalon that evening, our mostly white signs blending partially into the snow piles that aligned like walls along the sidewalk abutting the events center in Fargo. Flashlights affixed and some of our signs now settled in snow mounds near the street entrance, we proclaimed in defiance: “Abortion is NOT normal.”
Though gathering here seemed similar to our weekly day vigil on the sidewalk downtown, where abortions happen in our city, this felt markedly different. On “abortion day,” we mostly pray, plead, and provide hope. But an event helping fund the destruction of our youngest citizens seemed to beg not just prayers but protest.
This dessert banquet to raise money for abortions had been happening for years, but most of us were ignorant. Our attentions were drawn, however, through a Facebook page for area Catholic women, where a member had posted a High Plains Reader ad announcing the “Choice Desserts: Abortion is Normal” on Jan. 24, the same day as the March for Life in Washington, D.C.
The “all ages welcome” affair would feature decadent desserts, silent and live auctions, and a cash bar, along with national guest speaker Amelia Bonow of the “Shout Your Abortion” campaign. The hosting entity, the North Dakota Women in Need, exists, according to its website ndwinfund.org, to “serve as a safety net for those who would not otherwise be able to obtain an abortion.” In other words, attendees would be the pro-abortion movers and shakers in our community, those who not only support abortion with their lips but with their checkbooks.
“This sounds like an event that could use a prayerful protest,” I mentioned on the Facebook page in response, and in a matter of days, we’d arranged to meet that Friday with signs and the intent to prayerfully counter the effort’s deceptive aims.
On that snow-filled night, as we watched the abortion funders arrive, sneak out of their vehicles, and scurry into the building in their ties, suits, dresses, and heels, our collective hearts proverbially broke. Being so far from the building entrance made conveying our message difficult. In order to be heard, some began verbally projecting the words we’d written on our signs. “Abortion hurts women!” I said loudly, joining others.
A brief pause followed, and in the dark silence of the night, the agonizing message of one of our post-abortive companions came forth: “Abortion killed my baby!” Her lament of regret and warning rang hauntingly through the icy air. Would her words reach the consciences of those entering the building? Could they even perceive the torment they’d set in motion through emptying their purses and pockets this night?
Only the Father of Lies could celebrate such an event, while undoubtedly, the Father of Life grieved with us. Especially troubling was the presence of children, as young as 10 or 11, who clung to the coattails and cloaks of those responsible for guiding them safely through life. Soon, they’d be led into a room where the death of innocent children, only a few years younger, would be hailed as a just act.
“Can you imagine the message this sends to a child whose parent brought him here?” I asked one of my sidewalk sisters. “On some level, won’t they recognize that they could have been among the casualties by their own parents’ hands?”
The chill I felt while pondering this had less to do with the cold now piercing my toes and more with knowing these young ones stand innocently among the vulnerable and voiceless victims of abortion. I could only pray that someday, this night would return to their consciousness in a more enlightened form, and that awakened by truth, they’d join our pleas.
As we stood with our signs in the snow, feeling a bit helpless save for our prayers, I recalled the many words that resound in our culture these days, and how often they come veiled in the shadows of deception.
As these warped words fall around us constantly, we can feel hopeless, like we did that night standing out in the cold as the crowds poured into the warm building to cheer for death. But let us be heartened by this reality: We have the Word who will lead us aright and can penetrate any distant door or closed heart.
As we charge our flashlights in order to illuminate love, whether in snow or sand, let us continue to lean on this wonderful Word—and him alone—for our lasting hope.