There was a letter to the editor in our paper a week or so ago. It was from a woman who passed a turtle on the road. She just knew that turtle wouldn't survive the onslaught of traffic, and went back to rescue the it. When she got there, she found a young man already moving the turtle off the road.
He told her that eight other people had stopped for the same purpose.
She thought this was wonderfully encouraging.
On my way back to work from Planned Parenthood yesterday, having finally talked to the two people that God brought to me, Lindsay and her man, I saw a young robin just near the curb on Second Street. Cars whizzed by it, one right after the other. It sat very still, with its beak pointed to the sky. It made me think about that turtle and its 10 rescuers. Then it made me think of how few people attempt to rescue the 10 or 20 babies who are killed every week at Planned Parenthood.
Lindsay was just there, she said to "purchase something." She seemed quite concerned that Planned Parenthood kills babies on Thursday. She looked at her stone-faced companion and then at me.