Marching for Justice, part I

Monday morning we all woke up at the hotel and had some Texas shaped waffles and talked to a guy for a while in the breakfast room, and then cheerily walked out to our cars. Richy's voice was still gone, so we weren't planning to lead worship at the Catholic Charismatic Center (meeting place), but we were still trying to be there a little early.

And that is where fate, or the devil, bit us in the butt. We were sitting in various cars charging phones and sending texts here and there when Matt told Richy his truck had been broken in to. It took a second for me to realize what that meant.

I went and spread the word to the other cars and we all came and stood around kinda helplessly, making lists and trying to remember what had not been in the Tahoe. After a minute, the nausea hit us all as we realized how bad this was.

We all gathered in a circle to try to pray and make a plan. Richy led in prayer as we all stood behind the Tahoe with all its doors open. I had the hilarious thought of some guy sneaking up to the open door and stealing the remaining stands and boxes as we stood with our eyes closed. I started laughing, because I'm so spiritual like that, and then everybody wanted to know why, and then we all laughed and laughed. It's just like that, sometimes, you know? Everything is so, so dark and confusing and then this little ray of mischief hope peeks through and you realize you're going to make it.

We notified the hotel and the police, and then the public ASAP via our mobile devices. Then it was off to the march.

First we went to the CCC. There were thousands of people there, milling around, worshipping, waiting in line for Life tape. We were pretty late to that, so we hitched a ride in the back of Daniel's truck over to the proposed clinic site, where 950 were standing in a silent siege at that moment. (By the end of the day, they would count 4200 at the siege, making it the largest silent siege in history). Now, if you follow the history of Bound4Life, you might be shocked to know that this was my first real siege, i.e., the first time I have put Life tape on my mouth and stood in prayer. Every time our team has participated in one, I was elsewhere. So it was very meaningful for me to have my first stand in Houston.

We stood single file on the sidewalk surrounding the building, 3/4 of the way around... we weren't allowed to touch the grass, and that was as far as the sidewalk went. There were "spotters" from Planned Parenthood placed around the grounds to watch us, and the official word was if even one of our water bottles touched the grass, they would call the police. The police were there, anyway, so the worst I heard happening was someone getting a whistle blown at them. Ah, America.

I stood, with my back to the freeway, facing this 6-story building. Behind me, Houston roared with life and activity, but my eyes were open. I stared at the 3rd floor, which is being outfitted to be an international late-term abortion hub, and I thought about my children, the children that I gave birth to, at 24 weeks. The only words in me, the only cry in my heart, was the 22 word Life Prayer. "Jesus, I plead Your blood, over my sins, and the sins of my nation. God, end abortion and send revival to America." Then, "End abortion, end abortion. Oh, God. End abortion." There is no eloquence, there are no words, there is no inpsired speech to combat this horror. Just, "Oh, God. Oh, God. End this thing."

Later, we walked the line and saw the hundreds, tape covering their mouths to symbolize the silence of the unborn, eyes closed, heart-prayers lifted. Black and Latino, white and Asian. I tried to take pictures to capture the enormity, the solemnity, but they can't communicate how it felt. It felt like hope, like this tangible hope hanging thickly overhead.

I'll stop here, before the march, because this is already looooong.

To be continued, again...