It is 8:00 in the morning on the second Saturday of the month. I am standing outside the local abortion clinic with the rest of my youth group. We stand on the side walk facing the 'mill' as we call it, there are easily 30 of us. We are saying the rosary, the whole rosary, 200 Hail Marys. I hate coming here it creeps me out, so many children die here. I am freezing my butt off! It was 40 degrees at my house but it is always colder here. I've forgotten my gloves, again, and my numb fingers fumble with the beads. A friend offers me hers, "No thank you" I say, after all I don't want to look like an idiot, "I'm not cold"

Dang it! I've lost my place, I ask a friend were we are "1st sorrowful mystery , the agony in the garden" I quickly find my place. Each person takes turns leading the rosary for ten Hail Marys. As we pray the we meditate on a moment in Christ's life. I already know I have the fifth sorrowful mystery.

I can't think, I glance down the row of people on the sidewalk, heads bowed, lips quietly whispering the prayer, how can they pray? It is COLD! I try to think of something else so I look up at the clinic. The building is a plain unremarkable building, easily forgotten, but some how it reminds me of a prison. In between the sidewalk and the clinic is a wire fence, magnifying the prison look ( are they keeping us out or them in?) There is also a pathetic line of hedges so small and bare they look like a line of twigs. I have heard That they are planted all around the building but the plants that stand in front of us never seem to grow.

Two women are going in now, probably a mother taking in her daughter, the girl is crying she can't be older than me, 16. A sidewalk counselor is on the speaker phone now, she pleads for them not to go in " If you'll just come down here we can help" The counselor is promptly given the finger by the mother who says something that is carried off by the wind.

It is hard not to be angry I know I shouldn't be angry. Most don't realize what is going to happen to that clump of cells, the nameless piece of tissue. I want to warn them "You will never recover, you will regret this you whole life" but I stay silent. It won't help, they are already in.

So I return to my rosary with a renewed fervor, this is how I help. I pray and maybe a baby will be saved.

The rosary ends, no one else is going inside. I talk to my friends, there will be a baby shower today. A women chose to keep her child a few months ago. We discuss the situation, a desperately poor woman with several other children. We have baby showers to show support and to give some of the baby supplies needed.

It's to cold to stay out here so we all load up into various cars and head to a friends house for breakfast.

The mill is soon forgotten, no one wants to think of what we have seen, mothers killing their children. The statistics linger in the back of your mind though, 43 million dead to date and rising fast, that's 1/3 of all children conceived since 1973, dead, ripped apart and that's 43 million times a mother felt her only hope was the death of her child. The statistics make you numb at times, it feels hopeless.

A hush falls over the room, some one is making an announcement "I just got a call from some one at the mill, at the mill, a women has chosen to keep her baby!" the room erupts with noise, clapping and cheering. A mother chose life today , a baby will live today, and that means there is hope for tomorrow.

Please, please R&R