office hours

Can't sleep and remembered that I meant to blog about a week I had in December.

I've written before about how I have trouble figuring out grief. When Jon Scharfenberger passed away, I felt strange for mourning because I really barely knew him. We had a few very brief conversations in group settings, but when he was in that accident... I felt so much pain for him. I remember crying and praying and sitting in the chapel just at a loss for words. I didn't understand how to process the grief I was experiencing because I felt like I wasn't allowed to be so sad for someone I barely knew. I think part of the reason Jon's death hit me so deeply was that he was so involved in the movement and so young - it felt so close to home. It felt like a that could've been me... or any of us kind of thing. Well that feeling returned this past December.

One of my classmates in the school of social work passed away. She, too, was a passenger in a fatal car accident. She was 25 years old and had a precious young daughter. When I received the e-mail about the news, I felt so much guilt because I was not sure who she was. This woman who I have shared classes with for the past few semesters... I couldn't even be sure if I was picturing the right person. That was just a shameful moment for me. Then I searched for her on Facebook and found her... and I wept. It was an eerie feeling reading her "about me" and "favorite quotes." The part that broke my heart twice over was about how she was so ready to graduate and get her career as a social worker going... and how she loved her babygirl more than anything in the world. It was heartbreaking to read. How can someone be here one day, in class, on Facebook... and so quickly gone the next? It really could've been any of us... it could've been me... and oh that poor little girl... only two years old. Will she even remember what her mother looks like?

I began processing what happened and dreaded going to my social work classes that week. The professors would obviously mention what happened... and sometimes bad news just doesn't get easier to hear, even when you know what's coming. It was hard keeping it together as the attendance sheet was passed around the classroom and her name was still there; her usual desk was empty in the back of the room. This reflection brings me to tears. In my second class of the day, after managing to hold it together pretty well, my professor started to share the news again in case some students had not heard about our classmate's fate. Once again, her absence from the room felt so evident. She was quiet and sat in the back of the room, seemingly unnoticed, but that day... her absence was deafening.

Our professor, a strong and confident woman, began to share the basic facts of what happened. She was gentle and rehearsed... then she broke. She said, "I'm sorry - I told myself I wouldn't do this - " and she cried for a minute. I sat in the far back left corner of the room and I just put my head against the wall and let my hair cover my face and closed my eyes. She continued, "I just - can't believe it. Just on Thursday she was in my office hours and we were talking and now -- " and she cried.

The week went on and deadlines for our huge papers came up and questions about grad school dug knives into my stomach. I felt terrible. I felt the same mix of grief, guilt, why-not-me that I'd felt after Jon's passing. I guess I should be grateful for that confusion because it means I have not had to grieve the loss of too many loved ones in my life, but it was still hard. Eventually, my emotional and mental stress manifested itself in my schoolwork. I did terribly on an assignment I worked so long on. I just felt so depressed. Hopeless. So I went in to my professor's office hours thinking we would discuss my paper after she so graciously allowed me to go through it again.

I ended up crying in her office and a deeply buried existential crisis came out of nowhere in the form of "AM I EVEN GOING TO BE A GOOD SOCIAL WORKER?" and turned into a whole life-purpose questioning. My fears about my resume - how it is nearly 100% pro-life related - emerged. "SOCIAL WORKERS THINK 'PRO-LIFE' MEANS CRAZY. NO ONE WILL EVER WANT ME AT THEIR GRAD SCHOOL." And I just broke down (sense a recurring theme for this week? take a shot every time I have a breakdown... you'll be drunk in no time!). Luckily, this was no ordinary professor. This was a woman who loves what she does, cares about her students, and is basically who I want to be when I am a social worker one day. I've taken her for 3 classes and have gotten to know her somewhat personally and have grown to respect her immensely. After a week faced with fear of my own future, experiencing the termination of another's future, grief, stress, and self-doubt, she said one of the kindest things anyone has ever said to me. We spoke about the abundance of pro-life work on my resume and how it can be phrased to appeal to individuals who may not be pro-life and, knowing she is pro-choice, that gave me comfort. She told me that I could be a social worker and still maintain my values and she said, "you wouldn't judge women who have had abortions, you wouldn't judge men who abuse their children." Oh and I tell you, just that little bit of confidence in me that she had in that statement...it's what I needed to keep from spiraling further into crisis mode. I don't even know why I'm writing about this but I just want to remember it one day. I wish I could have recorded that conversation, minus my sniffling and blowing my nose, and I could just listen when I am feeling like the only one of my kind in a sea of "choice." I don't know why I wrote this, really, but I can't sleep and started thinking about that comment my professor made to me and then reflecting on Amanda's passing and it just felt good to get that out.

(from BHLDN pinterest)

happy hour

I got back to my apartment from being home for spring break and I checked my mail and I had a copy of The Human Life Review waiting for me... and my writing was in it! That was such a nice feeling. I am now changing my name to Appendix F (Appendix for short). KIDDING! 

Now, my e-mail is down and the TX State website is down... so I can't catch up on e-mails or check on homework... darn! ;) Just had a nice hour long guidance session from Melissa at Texas Right to Life and she talked me through some issues Bobcats for Life has been having. Cool times!

It is also Sonic Happy Hour... so I'm going to go get my cherry limeade on and then read some articles by people that are way smarter than me and then I'm going to clean the rest of the apartment. Oh, spring break!

Roe's 39th Anniversary

made this for the B4L FB page.

sidewalk counseling

I'd always known that sidewalk counseling was definitely a calling and not for everyone, regardless of how passionate you are about helping mothers & the unborn, but I learned just how true that is this weekend.

Everytime I've gone to the "clinic" (we'll call it that here just for today) I have become frustrated by the volume of the sidewalk counselors' voices. With the clinic right off the highway and the parking lot being a pretty decent distance from where public property is, it is difficult to get a message to the women clearly without raising your voice to sound like a yell. I am a loud person (#flaw) and I am really easily frustrated (#flaw) so I would leave the clinic just feeling so helpless that these kindhearted sweet sidewalk counselors are basically whispering to these women. It hurt me to watch. THEY CAN'T HEAR YOU! SPEAK UP! is all I could think when I'd be there praying. Then this Saturday happened and I think I understand a bit more.

Good news is that I think the women can hear better than I can because the highway is next to us (prayer volunteers) and the counselors' voices are directed toward the women, while frustrated & helpless ole' me is placed in the opposite direction of the voices. So that's good. Bad news is that I suck at sidewalk counseling.

I can talk to people pretty easily. I loved talking to strangers (and rando PP volunteers- hey Patrick if you are reading this, wassuppppp) in D.C. and I can talk to strangers on planes and have great, civilized conversations about abortion and religion and the most controversial & awkward topics but still have a good time, but when it came to standing by that fence and talking to these women living what I'm guessing is one of the hardest days of their lives... I didn't have any words.

SPEECHLESS isn't usually a word that describes me, but watching a couple get out of the car looking so lifeless and heavy hearted and angry... I was speechless. My mouth was literally open and my jaw was like moving trying to feel for a familiar motion that would somehow formulate the right words or even 1 word that I could say but nothing could come out. After failing myself and failing these babies I would look over to the other sidewalk counselor and kind of shrug or nod to tell her to take over and try. I failed.

I was there for 2 hours, which is the longest I have ever stayed, and within the first 15 minutes I almost just lost it. Abortion kills children and abortion kills my spirit when I really face it and really let its gravity sink in, and that's what I did initially... which was a bad choice considering my purpose was to be there on the sidewalks to help these women and babies and fathers... so I sucked the tears back in and just kind of pushed through the 2 hours without letting my heart break into too many pieces.

The deepest hurt I have felt in a long time was staying there for those 2 hours; I have never watched a woman/couple pull into the parking lot, walk right by me, say no to being offered help, enter the clinic... and then watched them emerge 2 hours later... with one less person with them. One woman who I saw go in was so beautiful; she had perfect skin, although it looked like she'd been crying and she had puffy eyes upon arrival, and she had great long blonde hair that I was so jealous of. When she and her boyfriend/husband (holding hands) came out of the clinic... it was like a different person. She was still so beautiful, but now she's going to be carrying so much pain beneath that beauty and, God, what hurt. Her boyfriend/husband was attractive too (AND he drove one of the fanciest cars I've seen in a while; LOTS of fancy cars in that parking lot on Saturday). I wonder who their baby would've looked like.

Basically... I have so much respect for sidewalk counselors. I already respected them before, but now... SO much more. I don't know that I am supposed to be one honestly...which stinks because I have so much love for these women and babies that I can't even put into words, but I just don't do well with people being angry at me and there were 2-3 people going in on Saturday whose anger towards the other sidewalk counselors felt like a jab into my own heart; I can't take that pain, or can I?

I really feel like I failed those children and I don't know when the next time I will go back will be. I can't bear to be there long enough for an abortion to take place. I can't watch the babies go in and watch their mothers come out without them. It's just like look Sarah, look what you should have prevented and didn't. I feel responsible.

One of the sidewalk counselors consoled that feeling I had by saying that it really is almost too late; the women have their minds seemingly made up and they have made their appointment and they are showing up for the appointment. Other than the baby actually being killed, everything has already taken place and it is practically too late... practically.

I was so heartbroken that I went home afterwards and turned on "Beauty and the Beast" and napped for 4 hours. Still hurts.

out of the dust

After seeing some girls leave the abortion facility this weekend and really seeing the brokenness on their faces, one girl in particular who broke down in tears as soon as she got in her car, I am reminded of this song and really hope that those girls can find peace in what is surely a really crappy time in their lives. That one girl in particular, with glasses and a kind looking friend/boyfriend, just broke my heart in pieces. I wish I could've helped her.

let me live

I wish I had my guitar with me here in DC! All I have with me is this rough video from last fall. Hmmph. This is a song I wrote last November. I had just been thinking a lot about the unborn and how helpless they are. I started wondering how different things might be if they could speak up, if somehow they could express themselves other than kicking and swimming around. I sometimes joke that I wish that God could text or Skype so that my life would be a lot "easier" but what if the unborn could communicate with us- is there any unborn child that would say abortion is the way to go, mom? I'm also reminded of a saying my freshman year roomie Michelle liked- given a choice, they'd want a chance. 

If she spoke her first words today, could you still go through with it?
Would you listen to what she'd say?
If you could ask her what to do, what advice would she give?
Something like love me, let me live.

last thought of the day, forreal

I've been writing so much about homelessness lately. I didn't realize how long it had been since I wrote about abortion. The next few weeks will likely be filled with abortion related posts as we are delving into that topic in class.

Passion? Check.
Motivation? Check.
Emotional stability to be able to talk about abortion all day without getting sad? I plead the 5th.
Kleenex? Check.

wearing shorts in February

I have this note taped to the door in my bathroom
so this image is reflected in my mirror.



Today has been a super long day. I was exhausted even when I woke up after sleeping for 9 hours (which stinks) but everything ended up leading to a really random blessing. The more I think about it, pretty much every blessing lately feels pretty random, but whatevs.

Getting dressed for my weightlifting class this morning (I'm so cool) I was unaware that it was cold outside. I only realized this after I was walking out of my apartment and I didn't have time to change... therefore, I wore shorts.



It was chilly for most of the day as I went to weightlifting, social work, etc. Then I had to go to the airport and, being an occasional punctuality freak, I gave myself a lot of extra time to make sure traffic wasn't bad. Turns out traffic was fabulous, so by the time I got really close to the airport I had an entire extra hour before I needed to be anywhere.

I'd considered going to pray at the abortion mill while I was walking to class this morning but I didn't know if time would allow or if it was something I was supposed to do today, but considering I accidentally took the exit for the mill, I thought, OKAY!

I've never been to the abortion mill when there's no one else there. I rarely use the word nervous to describe how I feel, but I definitely was like super aware of my surroundings standing there with just me, the sidewalk, the few cars in the parking lot, and the mill.

Quick note: I use the terms "mill" and "facility" because it has been pointed out to me that the word "clinic" implies that people leave better than they were when they arrived or that some kind of beneficial service is taking place and I don't feel that facilities that commit abortions offer any sort of healing for anyone- mother, father, or child. Sometimes I almost say "abortion clinic" just because it's so commonly used and thrown around, but this year I've been making an effort to use more appropriate terminology. jtlyk (new favorite acronym).



Like I said, there were very few cars in the parking lot- so that was good. A car pulled up with a couple inside who looked to be in their late thirties. I just smiled at the man and he smiled back and then they went inside. There's no way to know why they were there, but the woman looked very broken for one reason or another. They came back out about 20 minutes later right before I left and the man and I exchanged smiles again while the woman kept her head down.



in case you wondered what my shorts looked like...
or you really wanted to see how messy my
bathroom counter is...



Two women came out later who appeared to be mother & daughter, but that's just what they seemed to me. It was really heartbreaking. One of the women held onto the rail the whole way from leaving the building, walking down some steps, and across the little bridge to the parking lot. The other woman (in my mind, "the mom") held onto her while she made her way to the car. They never smiled or talked to each other, they just looked broken. It was really sad...

The biggest moment of my time on the sidewalk today was when a taxi pulled up. Usually, the taxis will pull up as close to the building as they can which leaves very few opportunities for sidewalk counselors to reach out to the women or share information with them. I wasn't going to try; I was just feeling called to pray today. The taxi driver got out and opened the door for the young lady when they arrived, which made me chuckle. Chivalry is a lost art and it was ironic to see a chivalrous display in the abortion mill parking lot. The woman went inside and as the taxi was leaving the lot the driver rolled down the passenger side window (the side I was nearest) and yelled something at me. I looked at him kind of surprised and asked What? while PRAYING that this wasn't a confrontation- PLEASE God, don't let this be something mean!

He said, "Aren't you freezing in those shorts? I'm wearing a jacket and I'm cold!" So I approached the taxi and said, "Well, it's cold but I need to be praying so I'm trying not to think about it, ha ha." He asked me why I was praying out on the sidewalk and I said, "well, this is an abortion facility and... I really don't like abortion." He had no idea it was an abortion mill. He said "I don't like abortion either... Oh no, I really hope that wasn't what that girl was after. I asked her a couple questions and she said she just had to stop in for a minute... you don't think...?" and I told him what I knew about the procedures that take place inside that building. He was devastated. He told me he thought it was great that someone would be out there praying but asked,

"but my question is, since people know what's going on in there- why aren't there more people out here?"

(I like got chills when he said that. It's so true though- if we know about this injustice, why aren't more of us out there more frequently? The way he asked was just so like- how are we letting this happen oh gosh it was so powerful to me. okay emotional mini-rant= over.). I told him about 40 Days for Life and how there will be way more people out there starting March 9 and that even on Saturdays there tends to be groups of people praying.

I have no idea how long I talked to this man, but it was probably the most amazing thing to happen to me in a while. Once I told him about the Pro-Life group I'm working with he immediately got out his business card (which is so funny- has a cute joke on the back) and said to call him if he can ever be of any help. My day = made. The most touching part was when "Dave" (I've never really changed names in a story or anything, not really sure why I am now, but I guess I should start changing real life names?) opened up and told me about a girlfriend he'd had back in the day (I'm guessing Dave is in his late fifties). He said his girlfriend was a model and a dancer and then one day she just casually told him that she'd had 5 abortions. Heartbreaking. Dave's comment on that was "just like blowing your nose on a tissue and throwing it away like it's no big deal." I can't imagine the emotional, and even physical, brokenness someone would experience after 5 abortions.

I am still just really amazed at Dave's openness and true care expressed towards life. Like, he really cared and really wanted to talk about it. There was no fear behind his words, only sincerity and concern. The way he reacted when I told him that this building was an abortion facility is the way that everyone should be reacting when they find out about the tragedies taking place all around the world. 81,000 abortions in Texas in a year... 35,000 a day in China... this is not right.

Dave gave me his contact information and my plan is to get him some material about abortion and some brochures about Pregnancy Resource Centers and hotlines that he can potentially distribute if a woman or man ever gets into his taxi and asks to be taken to an abortion mill. I've seen a lot of taxis pull up in those parking lots- but what if the driver could talk to her on the way there? I'm just giddy about this. He was seriously so nice. I've just been meeting the most random nice people lately. Stop blessing me, God! It's getting incessant! Jk totally keep up the blessings because it rocks.

Day 5: Yellow Rope

Taylor at the Rally for Life Last year.
So much joy that day!

Ella Wheeler Wilcox, my favorite poet, has struck a chord in my heart once again - which doesn't really come as a surprise. This morning I went to pray at the mill and there were so many people there, I'd bet 15 at one point, and it gives me so much hope. It's strange to stare at the yellow rope 40 Days for Life has set out to mark the line between public and private property because on one side, the mill, there is so much sadness and darkness and death, and then on the public side, where we stand, there is prayer and dedication, love and hope. I feel so blessed to be on this side of the yellow line, but more than anything I wish the rope would disappear and the barrier between the love that we, as Pro-Lifers, have to share could overflow onto the private property, into the hearts of those conflicted young mothers.

This is one stanza from the poem "The Creed to Be" by Ella Wheeler Wilcox:

And clearer, sweeter, day by day,
Its mandate echoes from the skies,Go roll the stone of self away,
And let the Christ within thee rise.

If we truly want to make a change, we must roll the stones of self away and work to strip our world of the "yellow ropes" that separate the darkness from the light, the hope. It is in reaching in little ways that we can bring down the wall between Life and death. It is in taking this movement person by person, woman by woman, father by father, and especially child by child that we will be able to overcome the Culture of Death.