“Good morning,” I said to the man in the driver’s seat. “I am pissed off,” he responded. “So soon?” I queried. “I haven’t even said anything yet.” That was the way the morning began. After a few more comments he jumped out of the car, with the purpose of pummeling me, I assume. Apparently he changed his mind. He went back to the car and turned up the radio to a volume sufficient to drown me out. After the clinic opened, he left, rather than stay with his girlfriend. Meanwhile Alicia was on the other side of the building. I had sent her to approach a car that I had seen pulling into that parking lot. As it turned out, it held three people dressed in frayed, black clothing and wearing jewelry and tattoos in curious places. When Alicia approached the girl on one side of the car, one of the guys opened the door on the other side of the car and actually climbed up on the car roof in order to reach down and take the material Alicia was offering the girl. Alicia ignored him.
Later in the morning, after we had left the abortuary, a woman who had received our material two days ago called us to set up an ultrasound appointment. We also left a note at the home of another woman who had been at the abortuary earlier in the week. The phone number we had for her didn’t work; we were concluding, then, that she had given us a false number. There was a house, though, to match the address she had given us, so we slipped a note in its door. An hour later she called us–and we learned that the number we had been calling was the wrong number. She is a 44 year-old woman, already with several children. She believes she is too old and too poor to have any more. We will do our best.
Children are still being rescued, then. No matter how bleak and desperate it looks at the abortion mill, God still has funny ways of bringing life out of it all.
We need all sorts of help to open Guadalupe House. Can you paint? Can you clean? Do you know how to lay linoleum? Please call us: 734-709-4096
