A young, black woman hearing the voice turned around and walked, blank faced, in a daze to the woman who had called out to her. The black girl had just walked out of The Woman’s Clinic in Nashville for, what we assumed to be, her initial visit.
The sidewalk counselor, Joanne, was surprised. It worked. She’d been standing out there all morning, calling to the women coming to and from, most of them ignored her – one angry mother had let out a stream of profanity about how we ‘needed something better to do with your time’. You could hear the uniform Hispanic voices of Nuestro Madre de Guadeloupe parish praying in a single line across the street.
“What’s your name?” Joanne asked the girl. The woman stood about 5 foot 5 and maybe 180 pounds. A young man who had come with her stood about 10 feet away, watching, but respecting her distance.
“princess” she whispered, quietly.
And they began to talk. Joanne discovered that Princess was 8 weeks pregnant, that the man who was standing near was actually her brother. He was an American soldier who had just gotten back from a tour in Iraq. That morning, at 3 am he had driven from Atlanta to Kentucky to pick up his panicked little sister and drive her to Nashville where she had made an appointment at The Women’s Clinic.
“You woke up at 3am to drive to get your sister?” “Yea,” he said, proudly, “I love my sister and I’ll do anything for her.”
Joanne called me over and I began to talk with Princess. We discussed adoption. ‘No,’ she said, ‘her cousin had adopted and it didn’t work out so well.’ We talked about a free clinic down the road, I showed her a fetal model of how big her baby was and we talked about heart beats and finger nails and names. ‘you should call him little Prince’ I said, we were laughing now – you know that awkward laughter, where everyone is really actually, very sad, but you just can’t help but laugh. She was a college student and had dreams of being a photographer -
“What are you so afraid of?” I ask, she begins to cry, “My momma, my momma, she’ll be so mad. She’ll kick me out.”
Joann grabbed her hand and looked her dead in the eye. “Now honey, don’t you worry about that. My husband and I, we have a guest room. And you and your baby can stay there as long as you need to get on your feet. You’re not in this alone.”
Princess wipes away her tears, a little more confident, “It’ll be ok,” she tells herself, “Mamma will be OK. I can do this. I can do this.”
Princess is ready to go and we say our goodbyes. I get her email address and promise to keep in touch. And then she drives off with her brother into the warm afternoon.
Just then, a third sidewalk counselor walks up the hill. “Guys,” she said to us, “I had just the strangest dream last night and I, I wanted to share it with you because I realized…just now…that it happened here.”
“What was the dream?” we ask her.
“At the time, I didn’t know it. But my daughter and I, we were on top of a hill and there was this great tornado around us and we were in the middle of it. And there were electric wires just surrounding us and we needed to get to someone, but the cyclone kept stopping us. I woke up, just terrified, at 3 o’clock this morning. And I’ve been thinking about the dream all day. I just realized now that I was right here, on this hill, in front of this clinic. And these wires,” she points up to the electrical wires which do surround the hill that we pray on, “I was surrounded by THOSE wires.”
I feel a cold chill tingle down my spine, “What time did you wake up last night?”
“3 am”
My thoughts raced to a conversation I had just had: “You woke up at 3am to drive to get your sister?” “Yea,” he said, proudly, “I love my sister and I’ll do anything for her.”
It couldn’t be related. No. Just coincidence. “That dream just terrified me.” The counselor continued. I went back to my post, counseling. Calling out to the women, the men, the workers when another volunteer shows up. He’s a young father who often prays with us. He’s really tired and you could tell he hadn’t gotten much sleep, but there he was. “
What a surprise to see you here.” One of the day captains says to him, “You didn’t sign up for today.”
“Yea, I know. I just felt like I needed to be here today.”
Curious, I walk over. “Why?” I ask, suddenly suspicious.
“Um, it was so strange. I just popped out of bed at about 3 am this morning in a cold sweat. The Holy Spirit told me that I needed to start praying for a girl and that I needed to come here today to pray. So I’m here. Exhausted, but I’m here.”
"You woke up at 3am to drive to get your sister?” “Yea,” he said, proudly,“I love my sister and I’ll do anything for her.”
Joanne talks to him about Princess and the other counselor shares her dream. Everyone is kind of stunned – this is all so peculiar. 3 hours later, the clinic shut down for the day and we all went home.
Today, It’s been 3 months since I saw Princess drive away in that car with her brother. I did email her with the address she gave me and after about 2 weeks and no response, I sent another email. Every three weeks, I send another and another. Waiting, hoping, for her to write back. To tell us how it ended. What she decided.
“You woke up at 3am to drive to get your sister?” “Yea,” he said, proudly, “I love my sister and I’ll do anything for her.”
Let me remind you, this war is real – but the fight isn’t between us and Planned Parenthood. It’s not girl versus baby. It’s as Ephesians 6:12 says, “For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.”
I keep being reminded that there is more to this pro-life fight than we think – and prayer and fasting, just may be a greater weapon that many will ever give it credit for.
And for the Princesses out there: We're not giving up on you.
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