For ten years, once a week, I waited outside abortion clinics, offering help to the women and men going in and coming out. Most of the hours I spent outside the abortion clinic are now a blur of defeat and despair: an obscenity hurled by a passerby; an occasional clash with clinic workers, or abortionists; freezing snow; sweltering heat; pouring rain.
However, punctuating all this failure every once in a while, a woman would change her mind and decide not to have an abortion. I saw at least 2,500 women go into the clinics. Roughly a couple dozen of them told me upon leaving the clinic that they had decided to keep the baby. And how many more changed their minds without ever speaking to me, I will never know on this side of heaven.
I received such a glimmer not long ago. It arrived—just a message on Facebook:
I’m not sure you remember me. I met you 20 years ago outside of Women Services on Main St. … I was only 15-years-old. You saved my son’s life. I was alone, there to start a two-day procedure. … However, that night I felt my son move. The next day on my way into the building I met you. … I believe you read me some scriptures and made me aware of other options. So, I decided to … continue with the pregnancy. … You were truly a blessing to me. Today my son is almost 20 years old. … (H)e’s the best thing that ever happened to me. When I think of him, I often think of you.
During those years of waiting in front of abortion clinics, I trusted that God would bring forth from my small efforts the fruit he saw fit. And being offered just a sliver of that reward now, I am encouraged all the more to be faithful even in times when I don’t see visible fruit. (Now) a 19-year-old college student is bringing his faithful mother a harvest of love and joy. How much more love and joy we bring our Father as we patiently await the fruit only he can bring.
