Anyone who has stood outside of an abortion clinic to pray or counsel knows the feeling of gratitude when a mother chooses life. We offer her gifts; anything she needs. We assure her we have people ready to help. She cries tears of joy; makes known her obvious relief. Her new outlook becomes our gift, and we thank Him.
As we kneel in prayer, watching a young mother go into the clinic anyway, our prayer intensifies. We plead. We call on the Father of Mercies to spare that child, to bless that mother, to heighten the manly quality of protection in the baby’s father, to convert that abortion worker. And to enlighten our own souls so that we are able to do His will for the limited time we are on that sidewalk.
Sometimes, the mother emerges with her head down. She is unable to make any eye contact at all. The gratitude takes on a new look. We are sorrowful with her, yet we are grateful for the life that was which now lives eternally.
Our prayerful hope is that the car will pause at the end of the driveway of the abortion mill, long enough to take hold of post-abortive care pamphlets. We tell her driver, “She is going to need this.” Beyond prayer, this is often the only gift we can now extend.
Interestingly, often the father who claimed he could not talk her out of it is the one who now takes the materials, perhaps because he knows intrinsically that he has just allowed the unthinkable. For that moment, perhaps, he has regrets. This, too, is a moment for gratitude.
Look for the gifts. They are there. Bestow them on His behalf not your own.