On Jan. 22, 2010, I was blessed to have been able to participate in the annual March for Life in Washington, D.C.
I convinced eight students to attend the event. We left Thursday night after a brief prayer service. We took a bus down with the local People for Life organization.
It was a normal night of sleeping on a bus, but when we arrived in D.C. the trip was worth what awaited us.
I was dumbfounded by the energy of all the people attending the march. There was live music and people carrying signs, all for the purpose of stopping abortion. People asked each other, “Where are you from?” It was a friendly atmosphere that had an odd sense of energy; it was an energy of change.
The march took a bit to start. As a small group of nine, we found it almost impossible to move at times, there were so many people.
Everyone was there for this single purpose. Groups were shouting chants, singing and praying. People in yellow raincoats waved pro-life signs of various colors.
Once the March for Life started, police cars led the crowd of women who carried signs reading “I regret my abortion.” Then we filed in behind them. The Mercyhurst College group walked, a few of us with signs. Some students took in the surroundings step-by-step. I was overwhelmed again. I teared up from this emotion inside, a grace. I felt we were doing the best we could to make change, to prevent more lives from being ended and trying to prevent women and men from feeling the aftermath of abortion.
I left Washington, D.C., feeling that maybe at least one person had heard our cries from the march. We marched all the way up to the Capitol. I will never forget how it felt to be a part of something so large and meaningful.