A Vigil Mass in honor of Our Lady of Guuadalupe will be celebrated Dec. 11, Archbishop Allen Vigneron, celebrant, Bishop Daniel Flores, co-celebrant. The Mass is at Blessed Sacrament Cathedral at 7:00 with a rosary program beginning at 5:30.

The baby’s heart is terribly enlarged, she was told, filling most of his chest cavity.  The Oakwood hospital doctor told her it would be best to kill the baby, in order to avoid future risks and complications.

We did not meet this mother at the abortion mill.  She was brought to us by her aunt, whom we did meet at the abortion mill a few years ago.  Late Saturday morning we went to her home, where we were welcomed at the door by her grandmother.  Mariah came in a few minutes later.  We sat together in the livingroom and she poured out her load of pain and confusion.  She didn’t know how she would be able to continue carrying a dying child, how she would be able to go through labor and end up holding a corpse. 

We reminded her, though, that to a great extent this is the human condition.  Spouses commit themselves to each other for years and years.  Theirs is a labor of love–yet, eventually, one will end up holding a corpse. Wherever we love, whenever, we put ourselves at risk of pain and loss.  Mariah’s own grandmother told the story of her own losses–two sons who met violent, premature deaths.    But never would we say, Mariah was reminded, that we wish the loved one had never been conceived or born. When Alicia told of how she had carried a child weeks after she knew it had already died, Mariah’s eyes grew wide with amazement.

At one point, Mariah’s aunt asked her, “Are you still confused?” She smiled and answered, “No.”

Patrick and Anne went yesterday to see Ivy, the woman I met at Summit abortuary a few weeks ago.  Her enormous Dte bill, over $2,800, has been whittled down and paid off, allowing her and her children to move out of the shack on the west side in which they were living.  They now have a place near the seminary. According to Patrick,  Ivy expressed reluctance to call on us for more help, but he reminded her that the help was for her children, as well as for her. 

The Summit abortuary, yesterday, was packed with an apathetic crowd.  Patrick stopped counting after 24.  No responses, no argument, no nothing from anybody.  I’m trying to think of  a way to get through that kind of apathy, which is increasingly the situation at both abortuaries.  Any ideas?

Both abortion mills were full yesterday.  Patrick said that at Summit most people going in would not even acknowledge his presence.  At American Family Planning, the situation was different.  First two Hispanic women arrived, but they immediately identified themselves as “supporters.”  Only a few minutes after their arrival, another Hispanic woman approached–this one headed into the abortion mill.  The first two, apparently, knew her, and had come specifically to cut her off from going in.  One of them, Theresa, actually blocked the door while the other, Laura, pleaded with their friend not to kill the child. The friend, though, was determined to get inside, so Theresa finally stepped away from the door.

Meanwhile, Janice had arrived.  We have been talking to Janice on the phone for several days.  We also knew that she might show up that morning.  After she had gone in and done her initial paperwork, she came  back out to smoke and talk with us.  She is living with her boyfriend, the father of her 8 year-old daughter, but is now pregnant by another man.  She was sure her boyfriend would kick her out, which would mean that she would be separated from her daughter, since her boyfriend has full custody.  We assured her that we would help her find a place to stay, that we could help her start all over again.  She did leave after about an hour, first giving us her address and agreeing that we could visit her that afternoon.

Theresa and Laura, meanwhile, had decided to take turns going into the abortuary in order to talk with their friend inside.  I was surprised that they were able to keep this up almost for an hour before they were threatened with arrest.  Finally, calling through the door, thay told their friend that they were leaving in order to find her father and tell him what was going on.  When she failed to emerge, I recommended to Alicia that she go with Laura to find the father.

Alicia took the lead from there.  Arriving at the house, the door was opened by two small children who told her that the father was not at home.  For some reason, ALicia told them that he was home, that they had to go look for him.  They did so, and found that he was in the back yard raking leaves.  He came out to the front to see these two women standing there, neither of whom was known to him.  Laura’s nerve then broke; she began pleading with Alicia not to tell the father, so frightened now that her arms were shaking.  Alicia, however, was determined.  She asked the father how many children he had, how many grandchildren.  She asked him if any of his daughters had ever become pregnant  before marriage.  He said yes, but they were now married.  Satisfied that this patriarch was a benevolent family man, not the monster that Laura imagined, Alicia told him that one of his younger daughters was pregnant, and at that moment she was at the abortion mill.  She told him that she could take him to the place.  But he said no; and, in tears now, he begaan to stumble back up the front steps. “Tell my daughter,” he said, “not to do it.”

Back at the abortuary, Chris had been talking to the boyfriend of one of the clients.  He was a very large man, and he initially tried to intimidate Chris.  Chris kept right on, though, and eventually the man quieted down, and to a certain extent there was a conversation going on between them.  He then went back into the abortuary, soon coming back out with his friend.  They walked off down the street.  She was crying.  They went about two blocks, then disappeared.  I thought I would not see them again that morning, but after about 20 minutes she came back down the sidewalk, walking by herself this time, and she re-entered the clinic.  He showed up again in another ten or fifteen minutes, carrying a take-out package from the coney island restaurant.  After the conversation with Chris, after having witnessed the visible distress of his girlfriend, all he had to say was, “I got to sit down and have me something to eat.”

We were in Detroit  another three hours after our time at the abortuary.  There were several turn-aways last week.  We made trips to downtown, to Mexican town, to the west side and to Taylor.  An exhausting day, all in all.

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.

On Sunday of last week we went into Detroit to meet with the woman to whom I had spoken at Summit on the day before.  My last comment on last week’s entry was “The wind blows where it will,” and it does seem that the Wind has a better idea of what He’s doing than I do.  This new mother, whom I’ll call Laurie, lives in some of the worst circumstances I have ever seen.  Half of the houses on her street are boarded up.  Her own house is not much morethan a plywood shack–handily equipped with utilities.  She has three children; the 5 year-old is autistic.  The father of her two older girls was murdered about 5 years ago.  Laurie herself has a disease called NF1, a disease of the nervous system.  She has little tumors all over her arms and legs; these could eventually cover her entire body.  But she’s a good mother with her girls.  She tries to teach them courtesy and she takes the time to explain what is good behavior and what is not. Right now we’re working on the problem of a whopping DTE bill–almost $3,000.  After that, a new place to live.

I felt the great disadvantage yesterday of being male.  I was at Summit abortuary and Marie and Alicia were at American Family Planning.  Twice during the morning I had young women “hooked” into a conversation, just on the brink of turning the other way.  I was keenly aware of the critical moment in each conversation, when she needed the right word, the right course of action.  The women sidewalk counselors seem to have an intensity that I lack, and at those critical moments I knew I needed it.  The companions they brought didn’t help at all.  The first one had a boyfriend sitting in the car; when he saw that she wasn’t going straight in, he honked his horn and gestured for her to get going.  The second one had an impatient cousin, who waited by the door, anxious to get inside.  When the woman I was speaking with moved towards the door, I told her, “When you’re in there and I’m out here, I’m going to be in pain.”  She said, “Don’t.  I’ll call you.  I promise.” 

While I waited on the sidewalk for either, or both, of them to come out, I prayed a chaplet.  That’s when another woman who had gone in much earlier came out and told us she had changed her mind.  And later in the day I did get a phone call from a woman to whom I had spoken only very briefly.  I will visit with her today. 

Another illustration, I guess, of “The wind blows where it wills.”