Praying for our President

Alright, guys, sorry for the silence this past week. I've been working on this really long post. I hope you enjoy it!

I've mentioned before that sometimes I spend time praying outside abortion clinics. I want to talk about that a little bit, and explain why I do it.

A lot of people think that people who pray outside abortion clinics are crazies. In all honesty, praying outside of abortion clinics is not an easy thing to do. In fact, I would say it's the hardest thing I've ever done in my (fairly easy, comfortable) life. When you pray outside an abortion clinic, people walking past give you all kinds of odd looks. Sometimes they make nasty comments, but mostly they just glare at you - and I mean serious death-stares, the kind that make a sensitive person like me shake with embarrassment.

I adore making friends, you see. In general, I want every new person I meet to like me. But when I pray outside abortion clinics, the truth is that most people walking past are not going to be feeling very friendly to me. It takes a lot of courage for a fun-loving social butterfly like me to do something so, well, unpopular.

So why do I do it? Why do I subject myself to mean looks, and rude comments, and the judgment and condemnation of passersby?

Well, for one thing, I started doing it at a fairly young age, as I described in this post. I was lucky to have my parents and especially my mom as an example. She is a sweet, shy, and similarly sensitive person, so I knew that if she could do it, so could I.

I do it, first of all, because I really believe in this cause. I believe in protesting the terrible tragedy of abortion - what some even call "the abortion holocaust." I believe in witnessing to the beauty and the dignity of every human life. I believe that the innocent children being killed deserve to have a voice speaking up for them. If I don't provide that voice, who will?

I do it, too, because I believe in the power of prayer. I believe that God hears my intercessions on behalf of the unborn. Even if no one reacts favorably to what I am doing there, God is listening to my prayers, and in the economy of grace He will use my prayers in the best way possible - even if I don't see results at the time.

Most of all, I believe in the strength of a silent witness on the spot. Whether people like what I'm doing or not, they can see me, a happy, normal, 22-year-old woman, protesting against something our culture has decided is acceptable. But it is manifestly not acceptable, and that point can not be made often enough. Of course, we can pray for an end to abortion from the safety of our homes. But our presence, however controversial, is the most powerful witness we can give. When I pray at those clinics, I believe my presence there might affect someone - a scared young woman considering abortion, a person walking by on the street, or even an abortionist. It might make them reconsider the validity of being "pro-choice." If even one heart is changed by my witness, it will be worth it.

So ideologically speaking, I think it's incredibly important to pray in front of abortion clinics. But practically speaking, I really struggle with it. Those mean comments and angry glares are tough to take.

Last fall, I signed up for 40 Days for Life with my friend Cori. We prayed outside a DC clinic for an hour every Friday morning. It really was one of the hardest things I've ever done. That hour took a huge emotional and psychological toll every week. I believed so strongly in what we were doing, but putting it into practice was incredibly draining.

A few weeks ago, Cori sent me a Facebook message asking me if I wanted to sign up for Forty Days again. And guys, I'm not proud of this, but I chickened out. I wrote back that I couldn't do it. It was so recent since our last bout of exhausting weekly vigil. I can do this again in a year, I thought. But not so soon.

But God had His own plans and He was not going to let me off so easily. After I said no to Cori, my conscience bothered me. I felt like I was talking the talk but not walking the walk. I toyed with the idea of writing back to her that I had changed my mind. And just when I was on the verge of doing so, God dropped the opportunity in my lap. My friend Meg sent me a Facebook message: "Have you ever prayed at the [abortion clinic] on [x] st? My friend Ashley and I are planning on going after work tomorrow. Would you be interested in joining us?"

The clinic she named is the same one at which Cori and I used to pray. It was the perfect chance. I wrote back that I could go, and on Tuesday evening, I found myself standing in front of the busy clinic again, with a Rosary in hand.

At first, everything proceeded as I expected it would. I began praying the Rosary with Ashley, Meg and our friend Dave. Meg held a handmade sign that said, "Choose Life." But gradually, we noticed that no cars were going by. This street, which is normally so busy, was deserted.

The street had been closed to traffic, we realized. Police blockades stood at every intersection with sirens blaring. A man walking past us joked, "I hope all of this isn't just for you!" We laughed nervously, but we too were wondering what was going on.

As yet another policeman rode past on a motorcycle, Dave put it together.

"There's a motorcade coming through," he said. "I think it's the president!"

The clinic is only a few blocks away from the White House, you see. It stands directly on the president's route home. As soon as he said it, I wondered why I hadn't thought of that right away. It made perfect sense. The police were preparing for the president to drive home.

I felt awed by the opportunity we had before us - to witness to life before the president of the United States himself. Especially before a president who, if I may say so, is in desperate need of that witness.

Sure enough, black SUVs with small American flags affixed to their hoods began coming towards us. We moved to the curb and Meg held her sign high. As the SUVs got closer, Ashley whispered, "Everyone ask President Obama's guardian angel to make him look over here!"

Dave's guess was correct. It was the president alright. Ashley and I both saw him. I saw his profile, looking exactly like it does in the newspaper pictures, in the back seat of an SUV as it passed. I don't know if he saw us. I couldn't tell.

When the motorcade was gone, we returned to our places in front of the clinic, where we had been before. We finished our Rosary and waited for the next shift to come. I was amazed at what had just happened. I had been afraid to come to the clinic, afraid to be a witness for life, and God had taken this opportunity to show me how very important that witness is.

We went to a restaurant for dinner after that and talked about fun things - a girl Dave is dating, Meg's new boyfriend. We also shared our worries about the future of the Church in America. Especially with the furor surrounding the HHS mandate, these are scary days to be a Catholic. A lot of people think that even darker days lie ahead.

I texted my mom and a few friends about what happened, and my mom wrote back, "Wow maybe you moved his heart." While I sincerely hope that's the case, I kind of doubt it. Our president's mind is deeply mired in the ideology of the pro-choice movement. A few young people he passes on his way home are unlikely to change his mind.

But what will change his mind, I believe, is prayer. I don't know what God has planned for him, but praying for him can't hurt and can only help. I think sometimes it's easy to get so caught up in political disagreement and to forget about Christian charity. Our president may have radically anti-life views, but he is a human being, a child of God, and he is still deserving of our prayers. In fact, he is even more deserving of them because he is, I think, so much in need of them. If you have time today, please spare a prayer for him.

As for me, I'm going back to that clinic to pray tonight. I know that the hour I'm about to face is going to be a tough one. It won't be easy, but I know now, more than ever, that my witness is needed. Please keep me and my friends in your prayers as we keep vigil there tonight.

One last thing - please keep another president in your prayers: Father Jenkins of Notre Dame. Some courageous Catholic institutions are preparing to stand up to the HHS mandate in civil disobedience and I have a wild dream that Notre Dame will be one of them. Father Jenkins will need all the prayers he can get in order to take this stand, as some alumni are asking him to do.

Thank you for reading!

That Man of Mine

Frank's law school has spring break next week. That means this week is incredibly busy for him, with lots of papers to write and tests to study for. We knew we wouldn't be able to see each other this week as much as we normally do.

I had resigned myself to this fate and I was determined to be supportive. We weren't able to see each other yesterday. So last night, when I asked him on the phone "Will I see you tomorrow?" and he said regretfully, "No," my heart broke a little bit. I had promised myself to be supportive, so I said, "Ok. That will just make it better next time we do see each other!" But secretly I felt like I would absolutely die if I had to go two whole days in a row without seeing him, even though I kept that thought to myself.

And then, just a few minutes ago, I was sitting at my desk working on a writing project when I got a text message from my love.

"Run out the back door towards the elevators," he wrote.

Amazed, wondering, and full of excited anticipation, I went out to find him waiting in the hallway. Not only had he surprised me with a visit at work, but he had even brought me a hot cup of delicious vanilla tea from the coffee shop down the street. I died.

He was only able to stay for a few minutes, but in those minutes, we were able to have a good conversation. He teased me about my hairstyle (braids over my head like a Swedish milkmaid) and said he was going to call me Ingrid, which made me laugh. We also took a few moments to pray together for some of our biggest intentions.

On that note, dear blog readers, please keep Frank and I in your prayers. There has been some resistance to his conversion from some of his family, and we're in the midst of trying to assuage everyone's concerns and soothe feelings. It's hard to know how best to handle everything. We can use your kind prayers and good wishes.

But family or no family, I can tell you this: that man makes my heart beat faster. Every day he sweeps me off my feet. I am constantly in awe of the beautiful, thoughtful things he does. No matter what we might have to go through in the future, I know that today I feel like the luckiest girl in the world.

Target and the Catechism and Being in Love

Frank met with Father Paul on Friday night. Father was very impressed with his progress. "You already think like a Catholic," he said. "Now we just need to get you caught up on theology." So for homework, he told Frank to read the Baltimore Catechism. He also invited Frank to come to a special dinner on Sunday night for all the people entering the Church this year.

Have you ever read the Baltimore Catechism? It's a book written especially for children that lays out the Catholic Church's teachings in a simple, question-and-answer format. I was lucky enough to go to an old-fashioned school where I had to memorize a lot of the answers from it. I've been teasing Frank that we can quiz each other on it.

On Saturday, I spent the entire day cleaning my apartment. It had been a while since I'd done that, so I put on music and had a mini dance party while cleaning. I always put off cleaning for ages because I hate doing it, but when I was done, it felt great. In the evening, Frank and I went to dinner with a group of our friends, and then we went swing dancing!

On Sunday, Frank picked me up at 10 and we went to 10:30 Mass together, as usual. We spent half the Mass baby-watching, as we can't seem to help doing at St. John's. We said hello to Father Paul and asked if I could come to the dinner that night with Frank, which Father said was fine. Then we went out for brunch at a restaurant near my house called Faccia Luna, where we had delicious crepes and mimosas (of course).

Then came a trip to Target, which, if you know of my love for Target, you will know was basically the highlight of my weekend. Frank and I were on a hunt to find a scrapbook which we will use to record our adventures together and the things we hope to do in the future, much like the adventure book from Up. Sadly, Target did not have anything suitable. So we agreed to try a scrapbook store some time soon, and wait until we find the perfect book.

Although we didn't find a scrapbook, I was suddenly seized by a need to take a picture of ourselves "just doing ordinary everyday things." So we paused in the lamp aisle to take this beauty:

Because I'm suchhhh a good photographer. I think we really need someone other than me to take pictures of us. Anyone feel like volunteering? Maria? Jenna?

We bought a cart full of groceries and a giant hula hoop, because I had been desperately craving one for some time. I wore the hula hoop across my body like a sash until we got into the car. I also hung on to the front of the shopping cart while Frank pushed it to his car, re-affirming that my inner age is about 6 (in case anyone had any doubts about that).

We hung out at my apartment for a while, just talking. I pulled out my journal and read him some of the entries from when I first started to like him. The first time he appeared in my journal, I described him as a "goofball" - ha! It's actually pretty accurate. We had a long talk comparing our different versions of how and why we started to date. It was really interesting, and before we knew it, it was time to go back to St. John's for the dinner.

The drive to St. John's was pure magic. I don't know what it was - perhaps the fact that we had just shared so many deep thoughts with each other - but we were both feeling very happy and very, very in love. Frank put on a cassette of old Irish songs (yes, he listens to cassette tapes. Could he be more adorably old-fashioned?) and as the songs he loved came on, he sang along in an endearing Irish brogue.

There was a moment when - how do I describe it? We were holding hands across the transmission and he was singing about an Irish man who fell in love with a Spanish lady... just like us. He looked at me and smiled, his eyes so full of love, and at that moment my heart felt so full that I didn't know whether to laugh or cry with happiness. So I did neither; I simply smiled back, and wished that I could bottle up that moment and save it for ever.

I felt, deep in my bones, that it was worth it. For that moment, everything was worth it. The long years waiting to meet him were worth it, and the sorrow and hardship that I know will someday come will be worth it too. For the little moments like that, the moments when I know he is as crazy about me as I am about him, everything is worth it.

When we got to the church, we went to the parish center, where a nice little dinner had been set up with white tablecloths and multiple courses. We met the other people entering the church, most of whom were there with their spouses or their Confirmation sponsors, so Frank and I laughed a little bit about being the odd ones out (we've decided that it's best for me not to be his sponsor). The best part of the evening was getting to hang out with Father Paul. He is even more awesome than I realized. We even found out that he was prom king in high school!

We talked about Frank's "homework" and I told Father Paul how I had to memorize parts of the Baltimore Catechism as a child. "What's a sacrament?" he promptly asked. I paused for just a moment before saying, "An outward sign instituted by God to give grace!" He smiled and said, "Instituted by Christ. But yes. That's what's so great about the Baltimore Catechism - you have these really good theological answers firmly lodged in your brain."

After dinner, Frank and I weren't ready to end the evening just yet. So we went into downtown DC and drove around looking at all the monuments. I gave thanks yet again for living in this beautiful city, and for this very blessed time in our lives.

Consider Including

I use Google mail, so whenever I send an email these days, a little suggestion pops up for recipients to include in the email. Like this:

I find this to be really funny. Gmail is very good at predicting who I want to send emails to.

I also find it funny to see who they recommend, depending on who the recipient is. When I type in Frank's email address, Joey and Lee pop up to "consider including." When I type in my mom's email address, my dad's and sisters' email addresses pop up.

The most interesting part is how the "consider including" changes over the years. Last spring, when I was still at Notre Dame, I would type in Lillian's name and our friends Sam, Dan, and Rob would pop up. Now it's our high school girl friends and Joey. At other times it's been our college classmates. I enjoy thinking about how our friend groups have evolved. 

The fact that I spend so much time thinking about this may mean that I send too many emails. But as my friends and sisters would tell you, we already knew that!