As I type these words, the Democratic National Convention is going on in my hometown of Charlotte, NC. At this moment, our President Obama is probably settling in at his hotel a mere ten minutes from where I sit now. The DNC, bringing Obama, Cecile Richards, and others to my doorstep, has shocked me into the reality of how close to home the battle strikes. An incident which occurred a couple days ago has struck even nearer to me.
One of my sister’s friends, 11-year-old Zoe Griffin, was prayerfully standing with her younger sisters in peaceful protest on the streets of uptown Charlotte when several pro-choice women approached her and began screaming in her face, demeaning her and her cause. I know from personal experience that this happens to adults, the elderly, and teenagers, but someone needs to be really angry and fearful to cuss out a little girl.
Well, this little girl has guts, let me tell you, because her eleven years proved more than a match for her opponents. With great ardor and surprising eloquence, she stood her ground and gave them a piece of her mind. I’m going to give you the account in her own words – and remember, this girl is only in sixth grade. (Account taken from Stand True’s blog, a pro-life organization her mother runs.)
Hi, I’m Zoe. Something happened Friday night that a friend wanted me to blog about. I don’t have Facebook or Twitter or anything like that so I’m borrowing my mom’s page for now.
What happened was a pro-life rally. We had showed up when only 4 people were there. I guess we were supposed to get there early. As more and more people came, a car arrived. A woman came out and opened the trunk. There were 3,300 carnations in the back of that car. We started to unload and unwrap the flowers. Lily, Bella, and I started to write pro-life statements with chalk on the sidewalks when some pro-abortionists came. They were holding signs and chanting: “A baby’s not a baby till it comes out, that’s what birthdays are all about!” They were blowing whistles and jumping around acting like 5-year-old children. I was so sad that these people were so blinded I started crying. Then we started laying down the flowers all across the sidewalk. When we finished, the line of carnations was probably a mile long. A pro-life woman let me hold a crucifix that she had. I started clutching it close to my heart. My knees were shaking, so were my hands.
The pro-abortionists turned to us and started pointing at different people, saying, “You’re a person! You’re a person! Fetuses are not!” Then the woman saw me crying and said,” You are making this girl cry with your bull____”. I couldn’t stand any more of those lies. They pushed it too far. In the highest-pitched voice I have ever spoken in, I screamed, “THEY ARE NOT THE ONES MAKING ME CRY! YOU ARE! WITH YOUR DARK HEARTS, YOUR DARK MINDS TURNED AGAINST GOD!” My mom ran over to me, put her hand on my shoulder, and calmed me down. Then she went up to them and said, “HOW DARE YOU ATTACK A CHILD LIKE THAT!” While she was yelling, pro-lifers came over to me to calm me down. My whole body was shaking. Our friend, Mrs. McKinney, took me, Jack, and Bella to a CVS that was nearby. We got water and chips and went back. I sat down on a bench when a man from the Charlotte Observer came over to me and started interviewing me. Once he was done, a man came over and gave us ice cream. While I was eating, the pro-abortionists left. Then we started to clean up.
On the way home I felt sorry that I yelled at those people. I told my mom, and she said, “Do you know why you feel that way? It’s because you have a heart. You have a conscience, and you know what’s right and what’s wrong. Those people attacked you like that because they don’t have a heart.”
I will never, ever forget what happened last night. I had a dream that night that they all converted to pro-life activists. I hope that dream becomes a reality.
May God send us more pro-life activists in the making like Zoe Griffin. She’s a true example of a fun-loving, caring, seemingly ordinary girl who knows how to stand true to God’s calling.