My morning starts off pretty normal—scrambling around for missing library books, trying to find matching mittens and attempting to have the oldest of my crew ready for the bus by 7:50. After a wipeout on the ice-covered driveway, my 5- and 8-year old are on the bus, ready to take on the day. Next, it’s pre-school for my 4-year old and off to a friend for a quick coffee for my 2-year old and me.
Sunday night, quarter after eleven. I'm almost sleeping when the familiar chime of a text message startles me awake. Who is texting me late on a Sunday evening, I wonder. It's one of my friends, letting me know that she is meeting with a couple tomorrow to discuss their options just one more time before their scheduled abortion on Wednesday.
I was standing in my kitchen, one late Monday night, when she told me. She was standing there, talking about life, talking about why things happen the way they do. Why people stay with the people they do. Old memories, old pasts, old regrets. Ties that bind. Those sorts of things. The conversation was light hearted, nothing could have prepared me for what she was about to say.
Two days ago, an angry man assaulted several of our female Caravan team members while engaging the public through “Choice” Chain in the Algoma Business District of Thunder Bay, Ontario. He was walking by our demonstration with a little girl, and almost immediately became irate.
Imagine there is a knock at your door from a small boy who asks if you want to buy candy so he can go to camp this summer. You do not object and while spotting your favourite candy you casually ask which camp he plans to attend. The boy answers, “The Hitler Youth Program.” You are now faced with a moral dilemma. While you would love to support the child and buy the candy, you obviously cannot support the immoral agenda of the Hitler Youth and so you cannot buy the candy.