Before I knew anything about the harsh realities of abortion, my grandmother gifted me a lapel pin featuring tiny silver feet.
I didn’t know what it symbolized but I liked it and wore it on my church sweaters. When I started learning more about abortion and the pro-life movement, I began to understand the pin — and my grandmother — a little more.
On top of raising her five children and serving in her church community, my grandmother was what I’d consider a pro-life activist. Along with other Catholic women in her area, she started a guild of pro-life mothers. She donated to her local pro-life charities.
But mostly, she prayed for an end to abortion.
I still remember listening to a news report blaring from her television one evening about an abortion law in our state. I ran to the kitchen and told her “Grandma! They might change the law on abortion” having no idea what my words signified to her. She looked at me, puzzled. But her eyes showed that her interest was piqued. She headed into the den where the news anchor was finishing up his report.
“Ah,” she said disappointed, “they’re always talking about that.”
Like most pro-lifers for nearly 50 years, she had become slightly weary about the possibility that Roe v. Wade — which nationalized abortion across the country — might be overturned. And yet, as I remember that story from over 20 years ago, it’s clear to me that she still
