Reaching out my hand in mercy and grace … with a prayer for choice

By Mary Kay Roth

My mother was always a fierce believer in reproductive choice, but I didn’t fully understand the reasons until I was growing into my adolescence and she started sharing stories from her own teenage years. Raised in a small Nebraska town where abortion was illegal, mom talked about the ugly, backstreet procedures that eventually killed her friend, Alice, and left her friend, Mabel, unable to have children. 

“I have always believed women should control their own bodies, after all, men do,” my mom would tell us – in a voice that was both heated and emotional. “But let me assure you abortions will happen whether they are legal or not. The difference is when they are illegal, people with money are fine – people without money, die.” 

I suspect my mom’s stories are at least part of the reason, every Tuesday morning, I land at Planned Parenthood to volunteer.

My task is a simple one. Positioned outside the entrance to this center, wearing a Planned Parenthood vest, I serve as an escort to walk young women from their car to the front door – and back again.  

The challenge, of course, is walking amidst a chorus of taunts and harassment from the sea of protesters who gather each Tuesday at the outskirts of Planned Parenthood property: Protesters who quietly pray.  Protesters who scream despicable words at incoming patients, whether they are collecting birth control or arriving for a vulnerable moment in their lives. Protesters who shout, “baby killer,” and curse us to eternal damnation.

My heart hurt this past Tuesday as I walked several patients through a series of precarious moments. 

• As protesters shouted their judgments, one young woman barely made it out of her car, broke down in sobs and almost crumpled into my arms. “Why are they so mean?  Please hold onto me and don’t let go.” 
• Later that morning, when protesters hovered at the driveway into Planned Parenthood – purposely misleading arrivals they were official greeters – a furious young woman jumped from her car and screamed through her tears: “You need to stop this, you’re awful.”   
• Yet another woman – her car window stuffed with pro-life materials – sat in the parking lot after arrival and collapsed over her steering wheel in confusion.  Speaking through her car window, I said: “I am not here to tell you what to do.  I want you to feel good about your life decisions – in your heart and your soul.  Please take your time.  Perhaps you’d like to sit here, breathe and just think.”  And she did. 

I walked away Tuesday knowing I needed to write about this experience, because if there was ever an urgent time to speak out – it is now.  I write these words today because I believe in a woman’s right to make choices about her own health care – because women have a moral right to decide what to do with their bodies. 

At the same time, I tread gently and tenderly into this blog.  I have friends who stand on the other side of the Great Divide created around the issue of abortion. I respect their beliefs and honor their right to express opposing views.   

I do not respect nor honor the right to bully, intimidate and terrorize.  I do not honor purposeful manipulation and cruelty: stuffing disturbing, unwanted materials into car windows – screaming nasty words at patients and volunteers – changing vest colors to match Planned Parenthood. 

But let me be clear: I am not at Planned Parenthood on Tuesdays because of the protesters. 

I am there to reach out my hand to courageous women, as I believe in mercy, grace, compassion and the power of fresh starts.

I am there to support sexual and reproductive freedom for all women, because those who lack the means to manage their fertility lack the means to manage their lives.  I am there with the understanding that 97 percent of Planned Parenthood services embrace low-cost contraception, STD screenings, Pap smears, breast exams and basic medical care.

I am there because banning abortion puts women at risk by forcing them to make illegal, unsafe choices – creating even greater equity gaps in access to health care. It’s really quite simple: When abortion is illegal, wealthy families continue to retain choices while poor families, do not. 

Finally, I am there because we are living through a dire assault on reproductive rights. The nation’s most far-reaching curb on abortions since they were legalized has taken effect in Texas. Meanwhile, oral arguments have been scheduled for December in Dobbs v. Jackson Women's Health Organization – a Mississippi case that challenges Roe v. Wade in a time when conservatives now dominate the Supreme Court. 

These milestones are cautionary signs, warnings of a looming human rights crisis for American women.

As my mother so wisely observed, historical abortion trends make it clear that, regardless of the legality, women will continue to seek out abortions. In fact, the pro-life movement’s platform rests on criminalizing and restricting access, which increases the rate of unsafe abortions, while the pro-choice movement doesn’t encourage abortions – it lobbies to keep it legal as one possible choice.  

A few days ago we saw the beginning of a 40-day Prayer Vigil for Life, a national campaign against abortion that will inflame the already agitated protesters at Planned Parenthood.

I invite you to join my own 40-day peaceful prayer vigil for choice.  

Personally, I will pray for securing reproductive justice for all women.  

I will pray for the gutsy staff at Planned Parenthood clinics across this country who make sure women receive healthy reproductive choices.

I will pray for the Alices and Mabels of this world who have no choices.

I will pray that those who believe in choice – the majority of Americans, according to national surveys – hear the call to action and volunteer, educate, donate, speak out.  

I will pray for the time when our daughters, sisters, mothers, friends, can walk into a health care clinic without being harassed or condemned.

I will pray that women reaching out for help and support in health care, will always find a welcoming hand – always find someone to hang onto.

And, as I pray, I know my mother will be kneeling right beside me.

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I invite you to join the March to Defend our Reproductive Rights in Lincoln on Saturday, Oct. 2 – with rallies for Reproductive Rights planned across the nation that day – starting on the north side of the Nebraska State Capitol at noon, with remarks on the north steps at 1 p.m.  

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This Week I Read

by Mary Reiman

I can't seem to concentrate on writing. I need to read. Yes, this week I need to keep reading. 

It bubbled up when I wandered into the library for a meeting. I still love book displays, especially the new titles. They usually include at least one or two books by my favorite authors. Isn't it amazing how books find us? I hear them saying, "Pick me. Pick me." It seems they are there for us when we need them, whether we realize it or not.

It started in the children's section. My favorite part of any library, of course. The Library Bus by Braham Rahman.

From The New York Times, "In a story inspired by the first library bus in Kabul, Afghanistan, where Rahman grew up during the civil war, it brings books to girls in remote villages and refugee camps who have no other access to education." I worry about where that library bus is today.

Ground Zero, a young adult novel by Alan Gratz, recommended by my friend and former colleague. Not an easy read, as it is two stories, one of a child caught in the North Tower on 9/11 and the other a child caught in a village in Afghanistan 18 years later. From School Library Journal review, "A contemporary history lesson with the uplifting message that humanity's survival depends on us working for, not against, one another." If only we could all have a civil discussion about this topic.

The Three Mothers: How the Mothers of Martin Luther King, Jr., Malcolm X, and James Baldwin Shaped a Nation by Anna Malaika Tubbs. As author Britt Bennett states, "Anna Malaika Tubbs uncovers hidden complexities within black motherhood that illuminate our understanding of the past while also shedding light on the overlooked contributions of black women today. An eye-opening, engrossing read." An important read. Sadly, I remember none of this from my history classes. 

John Grisham's newest novel, Sooley, gives us insight into the life of a young man from South Sudan, his heart and soul never really leaving his family when he came to the United States. From Booklist review, "a deeply compelling central character and a story that is full of raw emotion and suspense."  I often wonder how some of our students can sit in a classroom and concentrate on whatever we are teaching when they carry such heavy hearts and worry for their families. 

Trap the Devil: A Thriller by Ben Coes. An assassination plot too close to reality.

For those of you who read this genre, Coes' works are being compared to Brad Thor, Daniel Silva, and the late Vince Flynn. I couldn't stop turning the pages. How many brave souls are protecting our country every day in ways we never know? 

I have tried to wrap my head around how and why this month those five titles found me. Why now? They are different and yet alike, addressing women's rights and human rights and much, much more. Kind and gentle moments interspersed with the raw, harsh, evil in the world.

On this day, we remember where we were that morning 20 years ago. We remember and we still mourn. Thank you to the journalists who so tenderly shared the thoughts and reflections of many on this 20th anniversary. 

It seems that every day we read and listen to the thoughts of many on all sides of the issues of the day. Some are the issues addressed in the books I just read. I appreciate writers who check their facts.

With so much angst in the world I need to read. I read to breathe. Steadily in and out. To try and comprehend our world and to remember.

So this week I read...

On this Labor Day, we pause, we apologize

By JoAnne Young

To the people who serve us in restaurants and handle our banking business and check us out at the grocery and all others we encounter as we go about the lives we lead outside of our homes: We’re sorry. 

 

On this Labor Day weekend, we’re sorry on behalf of all the customers and clients and yes, even your employers, for not treating you with the respect you so necessarily deserve. 

 

We’re sorry for not understanding that many of you are underpaid. And sorry that we don’t always try to understand that, like us, maybe you’ve had a bad day or that your children are struggling or your parent is sick. Or that you really need a vacation but can’t afford it. 

 

I try to always be kind to people in shops and restaurants and at counters or on the phone. But yeah, sometimes I have a bad day, too, or get in too much of a hurry, and forget to take a breath and smile. 

 

Three conversations I had with workers this week gave me pause to consider these things. 

 

A young woman checking me out at my regular grocery store was unusually fast and efficient and the customers were moving through her line like I’ve seldom seen in any store. When it was my turn I said to her, “You are the fastest checkout person I’ve ever had in this store.” She thanked me, then added that she wished that would help her get a raise. But I could tell she didn’t have much hope in that. 

 

A few days later, I went to my bank to get a cashier’s check and the teller helping me kept getting called away to help another teller with a customer. He apologized, but I wasn’t in a hurry and stood patiently while he stepped away several times, and took time to fill out all the paperwork for my check. When I noticed he had written the wrong amount on the check that increased the amount by several thousand dollars, I think I may have even apologized to him because he had to reprint the check in the right amount. 

 

When he was done, he told me he was going to waive the check fee because I had been patient. “Really?” I asked. Yes, he assured me. Many customers don’t understand the time it takes to do financial transactions at a bank, and they roll their eyes, drum their fingers and sigh or groan. 

 

My third conversation was with a young woman serving us at a Lincoln restaurant when I asked if she considered wait staff as essential workers. Not like health workers, of course, she said, whose patients’ lives depend on them. But yes, there is a class of workers that are essential to both the businesses they work for and the people who use those businesses. 

 

People depend on restaurants not for life, but for quality of life. And restaurants are one of those businesses that shore up the economy of a community, a city, a state. 

 

When the pandemic started in 2020, people who patronized restaurants, whether by eating there or ordering takeout, were kind and appreciative, she said. But after a while, those same people grew impatient with slower service or limits on open tables caused by a shortage of workers. They were at best testy and at their worst rude, during a time that was both tense for workers and dangerous to their health. 

 

Many restaurant patrons didn’t understand the dilemma those workers found themselves in: not enough servers or workers behind the scenes. At the beginning of the pandemic, when restaurants were forced to close or limit tables, some workers left and still haven’t returned.  The slowdown gave them a chance to think about their low wages and tough working conditions. Many found they could make more money working at other jobs or from home in safer conditions or with more respect. 

 

And then there’s the compensation. Minimum tipped wages are $2.13 an hour in Nebraska, although owners of those businesses are supposed to guarantee they make $9 an hour if tips don’t make up the difference. They frequently don’t however, according to Nebraska State Sen. Megan Hunt. And in spite of multiple tries to raise the wage, it hasn’t budged since 1991.

 

One waiter said he was seriously considering moving to Oregon, where the minimum tipped wage was $12.75 an hour before tips. 

 

I told the young woman I talked to I considered her essential, in that quality of life sort of way. She thanked me for our short conversation and said, “It’s nice to be seen.” 

 

And so, yes, we apologize. That we don’t always see you, even though you are struggling like many of the rest of us, that you don’t always get that minimum wage you are owed or the respect you deserve as a fellow human. 

 

We know, it’s tough out there.