Ground Zero

I’ve been down at Ground Zero a couple of times. Nothing extraordinary happened either time. I felt the place was cold – not the weather, the place. I spent an hour there both times. Each time I was amazed at how quickly the hour went. I have a place where I stand. It’s over a manhole cover, right before the curb. I stand there holding a sign and saying the Rosary and the Divine Chaplet. I try to keep my focus. I watch people and their reactions. Some smirk. Some walk a little quicker. Others put their head down. Still others appear clueless.

How is it that such killing centres exist? Where is the anger and the outrage? Why are we so comfortable with these extermination chambers? And when will it all end? Will I see the end of abortion in my lifetime? Or will it continue well after my death? Just how long is God going to let this slaughter continue?

When I think of what an abortion does to an unborn child, I become ill. As a father, I can’t stand it. I really can’t. I lose my mind and my composure if I think about it too much. Fathers protect. They defend. And yet we can’t do a damn thing. We’re helpless. No one will listen to the unborn children’s screams. We have no legal or political options. There is nothing we can do except watch and witness, standing there in front of Morgentaler’s Abortion Mill, begging our Eternal Father to DO SOMETHING. God help us. Please. Give us some hope. Just once. That’s all I need to show me that we are not doing this in vain. Please. Let your kingdom come. Just one time. That’s not too much to ask. Hope. Hope. Hope. Give me hope.

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