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It all began on the chartered buses. Sizzling energy loosed introductions, stories, and prayer among the protesters, traveling from St. Louis, Missouri, to Washington, D.C. One of them was a ninety-four-old widow, supported by two canes, who had attended all the Marches for Life since their inception in 1974. The Supreme Court’s decision to legalize abortion in Roe vs. Wade still irks many.

The morning began with Mass at the downtown Holy Rosary Catholic Church, followed by the cafeteria-style-breakfast in a nearby government building. It would be a rigorous day. Brilliant sunshine spirited the protesters’ steps toward meetings with their Missouri Representatives and later with their senators.

Rallied in front of a large screen at the National Mall, the protesters then thrilled with warm remarks from President Trump and House Speaker Paul Ryan. Three others also spoke from the main stage.

Then an estimated half-million protesters began the long march down Constitution Avenue toward the Supreme Court building. Singing, praying, bands playing, banners and placards waving, they made their way—a moral force to be reckoned with.

Synchronistically, that very day, the House passed a bill ordering abortionists to provide medical care to babies should they survive. An observer was heard to say: “I guess this is some kind of progress, but look what our country’s come to. Like slavery in the South—Like if the master failed to kill his slave but then was legally compelled to tend his wounds—Amounts to the same thing.”

The impact of the day quieted the protesters as they returned to St. Louis. They would never forget.




Blinking lights etch roofs, doorways against the night sky.

Rudolfs guide Santa’s sleigh over iced lawns.

Elves chatter nonsense.

Choirboys’ mouths stretch into wordless hymns.

Shoppers forage into cavernous malls decorated like ice castles.

Purple, pink, gold, globes smother evergreens made in China.

Pre-Christmas sales spiral like gyrating tops.

Jingle Bells accelerates the madness.

Catered parties draw chatterers like fleas.

Rummed eggnog, champagne, fruity wines lace vapid talk.

Svelte clothing camouflages dark hearts.

Power plays disintegrate into gibberish.

No room for the Star Creator but He came anyway.

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