"Whose Choice? My Choice."

I just stood there…and cried. I closed my eyes. I could feel their breath on my neck. They were yelling inches from my ear. “Whose choice? My choice.” I had forgotten what this darkness felt like.

I opened my eyes and noticed a familiar face. It was one of my former friends from Planned Parenthood. I smiled and waved when I saw her. It was as if I had forgotten that we were no longer friends, not because of who I am, but because of what I now defend. 

She mouthed something profane at me, very slowly, so I would be sure to catch what she said. Now I remembered. We were not on the same side. Our eight year long friendship was over, regardless of how much I had wished it wasn’t. 

I was standing in the largest rotunda in Texas State Capitol. There were about five of us pro-lifers. Thousands of people surrounded us, people who supported abortion, a crowd I used to be part of. There were many other pro-lifers there, but they were in the gallery, in legislative offices, and in lines to get into the gallery. 

I needed to be in the middle. I had to feel that heaviness. Sometimes, I forget what it feels like. I need to be reminded from time to time. It reminds me why I fight so hard and what we are truly up against. 

I went to the Capitol every day.  Most of the time there wasn’t much to do. However, it was important just to be there in our blue shirts with our peaceful and prayerful attitude. The abortion supporters were profane. They were vulgar. They had succumbed to evil and they didn’t seem aware of it. We had to be there because when we were there, Christ was there too. 

June 25  – I went to the Capitol with my 5 day old son.  I had written “abortion is mean” on the side of his infant carrier.  I was amazed at the comments from the abortion supporters as I walked through the building with him in his stroller.

“He is so adorable,” they would say.  One woman said, “What a precious gift.” It might have been hormones or possibly the sheer irony, but I couldn’t take it anymore.  I started to respond. “Yes, he is beautiful. And just 5 days ago, it would have been legal to kill him by abortion. That’s what you are here to support.” I received no response from anyone, just blank stares.

I walked into the gallery during the Wendy Davis show. By show, I mean her failed filibuster. I listened to her read story after story, lie after lie. It was hard not to stand up and yell out the truth. However, I listened and I was truly amazed. 

Here was this woman who clearly knew nothing about Planned Parenthood’s reality. She had bought every line they had thrown at her. It was pathetic to think that this hired performer, paid for by the abortion industry, was willing to sacrifice so much. No breaks, no going to the bathroom (hence her catheter), no food, and no water. Nothing. 

What was the purpose? To ensure that women have easy access to kill their children. I could do nothing, except pray for her. A vote was taken that night, but it was two minutes too late. The disrespectful crowd in the gallery had delayed the vote just long enough. So, we waited for Rick Perry to make a call. 

June 26 – Perry made the call. He announced that there would be a 2nd special session.  We weren’t surprised, as we really have the best dang governor in the country. We worked to rally even more troops for our side. We knew we were going to win.  We knew we had the votes. 

However, we had to win the argument too. Talking points were being written and distributed to pro-life groups.  Facebook groups were created in order to keep everyone on the same page.  People were excited.  They knew we were, once again, walking into a spiritual battle.  Though, this time we had more troops, and we were armed with prayer. 

July 1 – The 2nd special session began. Pro-lifers showed up in droves. There were hardly any abortion supporters at the Capitol that day, but we knew they were coming. 

Over the course of the next few days, the bill made its way to the final vote… through the House Committee, through the Senate Committee, through the Senate floor, through the House floor.  It was finished.  The votes had been tallied. 

Texas had now passed the most restrictive pro-life legislation in the country, but it wasn’t without opposition. The abortion supporters had come.  They had come with their vulgar signs.  They had come with their profane language. They had come with their disrespectful attitude. And yes, they came with their used tampons and jars of feces. It was a spectacle. 

They handcuffed themselves to railings. They threw tampons in the air. They took their bras off and waived them around.  They yelled, screamed, and cursed at our children. They were full of anger and hate, but underneath all of it, they were full of pain. 

I have felt a lot of things since leaving the abortion industry.  Namely, sadness, lots of guilt, remorse, and pain. Honestly, I had never felt embarrassment until those days at the Texas Capitol.  While I don’t think I would have thrown a used tampon on a legislator, I would have laughed when someone else did it. I would have thought it was brilliant. 

That’s the point. Their mind is no longer solely their own, even though their free-will remains. With every evil act, sin, a person commits, the evil hooks itself deeper and deeper into you, until your thoughts, words, and behavior, are not heavily influenced by it. You are more susceptible to those temptations in that particular evil and tempted with other more sinister types.

When I think back to my time with Planned Parenthood I can’t even believe some of the things that came out of my mouth. It’s like I was a different person. In a way, I was a different person. 

That must be our prayer, that these misguided individuals would one day become new creations in Christ.  That’s what I pray for my former friend, the one I saw at the Capitol. That’s what I pray for all clinic workers. It’s what I pray for women who have chosen abortion.  It’s what I pray for those people who stood around me in the rotunda, those who were screaming in my ears and staring at me with such evil disdain. I pray because I know it works. 

I had never been more proud to be pro-life than those days at the Texas Capitol. We showed up and we made a difference. We put up a fight, a holy fight, for Christ and His Truth.  We were united for one cause. We were compassionate. We were slow to anger. We were kind. We were merciful. We were prayerful. We were exactly what Christ intended us to be. And now, we are being rewarded. Abortion clinics are already closing. Yes, we will win. 

Recently, I saw an article that showed Wendy Davis on the front cover.  The headline read, “Game On.”  Hmm. With all of these clinic closures, I’m thinking it’s more like “Game Over.”