Saturday morning was grey and windy. Two of us were at American Family Planning; three more were over at Summit. The abortuaries’ clients seemed very hard. At AFP, four of them swept into the building right at opening time, without conversing with us at all. One boyfriend remained in his car with his seat reclined and the engine running. Alicia talked to him briefly, but abandoned the effort when he told her that his baby was tough and would be able to handle it when he got his head sliced off. The whole time we were there he never got out of his car; I’m sure he remained there until the appointment was over.
Yes, it was rough, but all of us carried a very strong sense that we were not alone out there. The dinner with the bishops was very encouraging. Bishop Flores had spoken of all the great things accomplished by a small group of friends. And Jesus Himself says that he no longer calls us servants, but friends. The prayers of all our friends will continue, I am sure, to hold us up. We know that we experience these black times, these times of testing–and then, from some unexpected corner, a shaft of light shoots through.
