From the front seats to the back hatch, the van was loaded with groceries, gifts, clothing, a crib and a playpen. Even though the forecast Thursday night said four to ten inches of snow, I was determined to get into town Friday morning. Before any deliveries were made, though, the first stop would be the abortuary.
Friday morning was as bad as the news had promised. Including a coffee and bagel stop, it took a little more than two hours to get to Dearborn. Happily, the abortion mill’s parking lot was not even plowed and a large bank of snow blocked its entrance. The abortionist, apparently, was not as determined as we.
Just to make sure, we waited in the area about fifteen mnutes, then began the round of deliveries. The first stop was the home of Anna and Carmelo, of whom I spoke in the previous entry. The crib, playpen, groceries, clothes and even four gallons of paint were all unloaded here. The two older boys were home when we arrived; they did not speak to us, and I’m sure were unhappy when they saw the paint–intended to cover the graffitti in their bedrooms. One of them, however, did shovel the walk while we were carrying things in, while the other helped with the crib. They left the house, however, before we did, walking down the center of the road towards the commercial district.
For none of the deliveries was I able to actually park the van. I had to leave it in the middle of the street while we rushed things in. The entrance to Alma’s apartment is in the rear of the house, so I intended to wait in the van while Alicia carried the groceries to the back of the house. But when I saw her go knee-deep in snow on the side sidewalk, I had to abandon the van. There was little to fear, though. I met only four other cars on the sidestreets during the whole course of deliveries.
So the morning went. The interstate was in a little better condition when I went home. I’m not sure, but I think that trip took just over an hour. Never any problems until I got in my own driveway, where I got stuck at the bottom.
The abortion mill was open on Saturday. No snow problems this time, just bone-biting cold. Four Partners were there; very little traffic, much of the sound muffled by the snow banks. It all seemed exceptionally quiet and still. It felt like something would happen, especialy since the abortionist got there so late and the women had had plenty of time and quiet to look over the material we had given them when the mill opened. By 9:15, however, no one had come out and we were to meet a couple of mothers at Rositas at 9:30. Later, after seeing those mothers, we set out to make the last of the Christmas deliveries. These stops were on the west side, the east side by Belle Isle, and in Mexican Town. And while we drove all those miles, the calls came in. Two women who had been at the abortuary that morning called. Their babies were still alive and the mothers were asking us for help.
I hope that anyone reading this account will say extra prayers for us today. I am happy and grateful those women called. At the same time, I feel completely powerless to really do anything for them. Our stop on the west side that morning was to a 17 year-old that I’ve mentioned before. Her living quarters were so dark and dirty. During our visit she stood against the wall, her face blank and expressionless. Finally I asked her if she would ever consider adoption; only then did she seem at all disturbed as she shook her head no. Pray for her too.
