Last year when my youth group leader first proposed the idea of traveling to Washington DC for the annual March for Life, I didn’t know how to respond. Sure, I’m pro-life but what’s the point of marching a couple of blocks holding a sign that protests a practice that dated back to the 5th century? What’s the point? My mind was decided for me when someone close to me offered to pay for my trip. What was there to lose? If nothing else I could spend time with some chums and maybe visit a monument or two. Why not? The morning before the march we went to a youth rally at the Verizon Stadium. The first part was basically a Christian music concert, with much dancing and merry-making, which was all fine and dandy, but not exactly what you would call spiritually moving to me. What hit me was when we began to pray the rosary after the concert and prior to Mass. If you’ve never been surrounded by 20,000 people lifting their prayers to the heavens, than there’s no way I can describe it to you, but something in the sound moved my heart in a way that nothing ever has.
The march began, and as I took up my place in throng, I looked around me, I saw the thousands of children, teens, college students, and adults, of all sizes, races, and walks of life, standing beside me. These were people who have chosen to commit to a cause greater than themselves, to give voice to those who have none. People who would walk for those who were denied their first steps. People who would stand against the elements of the earth, the disdain of others and their own fears to show the world that there is hope. And that maybe, as the world looks on, even if just one heart is moved, that we have become the change we wish to see in the world.