It was five in the morning when the bus pulled out of Howard Music Hall parking lot, with 55 drowsy Hillsdalians on board. Our mission: to protest the abominable attacks on life which our society today accepts as normal. We were travelling down to Washington DC to participate in the 36th annual March for Life.
We braced ourselves for the day-long trip ahead: some of us talked, some of us studied, and some of us took the opportunity to catch up on all that sleep we had been missing.
For those of us who had never seen DC before, this was an opportunity to discover a new world. Some of us trekked downtown, while the rest went to hear Mass at the beautiful National Shrine Basilica. Besides the Mass itself, the building was a beautiful example of art and architecture. The numerous paintings, mosaics, and statues bedecked the already breath-taking basilica, affording a few hours of awe-inspiring delight to the artist in all of us.
After Mass, we collected up the gang and headed out towards Alexandria, VA where our lodging for the night awaited us. We pulled in to St. Lawrence’s Church, where the school building had been kindly left open in preparation of our coming.
I am happy to announce that we (well, the girls at least) were bedded down for the night before midnight, despite all forms of feminine calamity (Oh where is my hairbrush!). In the morning, some of the group left early for the youth rally at the Verizon Center; however, those of us with less fortitude slept in another hour and a half. This group was back on the bus by 8 am, despite all sorts of communication calamity (somebody set the wrong time to wake up!).
With some three hours on our hands before the March, we anxiously arrived in DC with the smell of adventure in the air. The group split up, with admonitions and blessings from our group leaders, and … the chase was on! Museums, food, the Metro, people, monuments, and sunshine lured us through the city, distracting us from the ever-constant passage of Time. Soon enough, it was noon.
Unfortunately, the “March” is a misnomer; we shuffled our way along 17 blocks worth of Constitution Ave for nearly three and a half hours. This meant, however, that the pro-life movement was noticeably active; roads were taped off, traffic was held up, and thousands upon thousands of pro-lifers crowded the streets, in silent protest against today’s culture of death.
Once we reached the Supreme Court building, we turned towards Union Station to meet back with our bus for the long ride home. You might have imagined a bus-full of exhausted students tranquilly snoring their way through the night, but this was not to be the case. As soon as we took off out of the city, fifty four tongues came to life, excitedly reviewing the events of the day. One by one they fell silent, but it was long into the night before the bus achieved any level of quiet. Even into the early hours of the morning, many students remained awake, some listening to music, some still studying, others chatting and discussing the day’s events.
At 5:30 am Friday morning, the bus pulled into the Howard parking lot, with the snow and the cold wind to greet us. The group of students quietly dissolved, each going his own way towards classes, breakfast, or bed.
I walked back to my dorm, pondering the significance of the March. It had been more than a mere political statement; it was a prayer to God offered up in reparation for our culture’s offenses against Him. It was the unheard cry of millions protesting the injustices which had silenced them forever. I had seen the women there who had previously had abortions; they recognized the abominations they had committed against their children and against themselves, and they now marched in sorrowful repentance.
How truly cruel it is that in this nation, which prides herself on her security, peace, liberty, and happiness, every single day there are mothers who go to hospitals seeking help to kill their own children. This is exactly what the leader of our country wishes to make legal through FOCA; this is what the March exists to prevent.
We braced ourselves for the day-long trip ahead: some of us talked, some of us studied, and some of us took the opportunity to catch up on all that sleep we had been missing.
For those of us who had never seen DC before, this was an opportunity to discover a new world. Some of us trekked downtown, while the rest went to hear Mass at the beautiful National Shrine Basilica. Besides the Mass itself, the building was a beautiful example of art and architecture. The numerous paintings, mosaics, and statues bedecked the already breath-taking basilica, affording a few hours of awe-inspiring delight to the artist in all of us.
After Mass, we collected up the gang and headed out towards Alexandria, VA where our lodging for the night awaited us. We pulled in to St. Lawrence’s Church, where the school building had been kindly left open in preparation of our coming.
I am happy to announce that we (well, the girls at least) were bedded down for the night before midnight, despite all forms of feminine calamity (Oh where is my hairbrush!). In the morning, some of the group left early for the youth rally at the Verizon Center; however, those of us with less fortitude slept in another hour and a half. This group was back on the bus by 8 am, despite all sorts of communication calamity (somebody set the wrong time to wake up!).
With some three hours on our hands before the March, we anxiously arrived in DC with the smell of adventure in the air. The group split up, with admonitions and blessings from our group leaders, and … the chase was on! Museums, food, the Metro, people, monuments, and sunshine lured us through the city, distracting us from the ever-constant passage of Time. Soon enough, it was noon.
Unfortunately, the “March” is a misnomer; we shuffled our way along 17 blocks worth of Constitution Ave for nearly three and a half hours. This meant, however, that the pro-life movement was noticeably active; roads were taped off, traffic was held up, and thousands upon thousands of pro-lifers crowded the streets, in silent protest against today’s culture of death.
Once we reached the Supreme Court building, we turned towards Union Station to meet back with our bus for the long ride home. You might have imagined a bus-full of exhausted students tranquilly snoring their way through the night, but this was not to be the case. As soon as we took off out of the city, fifty four tongues came to life, excitedly reviewing the events of the day. One by one they fell silent, but it was long into the night before the bus achieved any level of quiet. Even into the early hours of the morning, many students remained awake, some listening to music, some still studying, others chatting and discussing the day’s events.
At 5:30 am Friday morning, the bus pulled into the Howard parking lot, with the snow and the cold wind to greet us. The group of students quietly dissolved, each going his own way towards classes, breakfast, or bed.
I walked back to my dorm, pondering the significance of the March. It had been more than a mere political statement; it was a prayer to God offered up in reparation for our culture’s offenses against Him. It was the unheard cry of millions protesting the injustices which had silenced them forever. I had seen the women there who had previously had abortions; they recognized the abominations they had committed against their children and against themselves, and they now marched in sorrowful repentance.
How truly cruel it is that in this nation, which prides herself on her security, peace, liberty, and happiness, every single day there are mothers who go to hospitals seeking help to kill their own children. This is exactly what the leader of our country wishes to make legal through FOCA; this is what the March exists to prevent.
1 comment:
Hi people, sorry I haven't gotten any more pictures up; if you want to see some cool shots of DC, the March, and us Hillsdalians in general, email me: csimmerer@hillsdale.edu
~ Catherine :)
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