Father Norman Weslin, a pro-life missionary priest, joined us at the abortion mill on Friday. Apparently, he is a very powerful man, because the demons ranted and raved when he showed up. Four squad cars from the Dearborn Police Department (the motto on their squad cars is, “Be Nice to People”) zoomed up and Fr. Weslin was accused of having blocked the door. If you knew Fr. Weslin, you would know how funny this is. If he decides to block the door, there is no ambiguity involved. He has done countless jail terms for having locked himself with kryptonite locks in front of the doors of abortion mills. He believes in offering himself as a sacrificial lamb for the lives of the unborn; and during the ’90s, he led a group, the Lambs of Christ, which did exactly that.
So the debate about whether he did or did not block the door went on for a couple of hours. Even the abortionist came out on the sidewalk to point an accusing finger. I, meanwhile, was a couple of miles away, working with my students in painting the apartment we rented for A. and her daughters. My phone rang and rang–but I had left it in the van, and did not realize I had left it in the van. Fr. Weslin, though, is very experienced, and managed to pacify the police, even though the sergeant in charge–who refused to address Fr. Weslin as Father–seemed genuinely anxious to put handcuffs on a priest. His subordinates, however, in the end didn’t want anything to do with it. One of them even accepted a rosary from one of the Guadalupe Partners.
On Saturday we were busier than we have lately been. Several involved conversations went on in three different parking lots. A Hispanic couple sort of hid their van near the back alley, then slipped in while our attention was diverted elsewhere. All the sidewalk counseling seminars I’ve given in which I’ve warned listeners not to let this happen…. When the husband came out our Spanish speaking counselor was on his trail, calling him to responsibility for his wife and child. She went all the way back to the van with him. When he climbed in, she stepped right inside the door so he couldn’t close it, continuing to call him to responsibility. And to give him credit, he did go back in to speak to his wife–but not with enough strength, not with enough authority. Apparently the baby was killed.
later in the morning we went back to the never-ending paint-it-and-fix-it job at the new apartment. Five of us worked for about four hours. We are still not done, and we really needed to be done yesterday.
And last night, just as I was drifting off to sleep, the phone rang. A mother we have been helping was coming home from work, slid off the road and turned over. She is alright, but her car is totaled. Generally, things have not been going well for her. She does restaurant work, and has been told she will be cut down to 10 hours a week during the winter months. That will not even cover the child care costs for her two sons. She has been living in the Guadalupe Partner mobile home in South Lyon, but will not be able to afford even the lot rent. Her plan, then is to move in with a relative out in Saline. The mobile home has served two mothers, each for about six months. Should we sell it now? I don’t know.
Guadalupe Partners has a new sidewalk counselor. A ten year-old girl who stands by her father’s side and prays so ardently for the mothers and children.
