Fr. Benedict Groeschel's Angel Comes to the Aid
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Somewhere today, in the great city of Chicago, a young woman in her late twenties lives her daily life. I will call her Mona.
I once held her in my arms when she was just a month old. But I have not seen her since.
The memory of that day remains one of the most profound encounters of my years as a pro-life sidewalk counselor. It was a moment where the quiet prayers outside an abortion clinic bore visible fruit—and where God showed me, once again, that every life is a precious gift from Him.
On a cold morning in Chicago that day, I approached Mona’s mother, who was pregnant with her at the time. She was walking toward the abortion clinic, accompanied by her own mother.
For years, I had stood on sidewalks outside such places, praying the Rosary, offering women help and hope, and pleading for the lives of the unborn. These encounters are often fleeting. Most women, overwhelmed with fear or despair, hurry past without a word.
But that day, God placed another person by my side—my friend Elia. Though she had never done sidewalk counseling before, her gift of conversation and warmth shone in that moment. Where my words fell short, her persistence and compassion seemed to pierce through the darkness.
By God’s grace, Mona’s mother turned away from that clinic and chose life.
Months later, I received a call. A baby girl had been born—small and premature but healthy. Soon after, a card arrived that I still treasure:
“Hi Kevin, I really want to thank you for everything. Because of you, Elia, and the others, I now have another beautiful daughter. I am forever in your debt… Thank you. P.S. The outfits are beautiful.”
Not long after, I visited their apartment on the South Side of Chicago. The mother still lived with her own mother. For the first time, I held tiny Mona in my arms.
In that moment, I felt awe—not only at the beauty of new life, but at the mystery of God’s providence. He had woven together that encounter on the sidewalk so that this little one might live.
When you get to know those involved in an abortion decision like this you become more sympathetic toward them. As a white suburbanite visiting their neighborhood on Chicago’s South Side I felt out of place. But these people were fellow Christian believers. This family had an open Bible perched on the most prominent place in their front room — the television. During my visit, I was taken to another family in the same building. And that family too had a Bible on their TV. This display of God’s word was not something that I experienced growing up, where a sign of the faith was most typically a crucifix on the wall. But the Bible there showed that these folks were relying on God’s help in their lives, and that help was certainly granted that year.
The three of them living in the apartment were probably regular church goers. They just needed a little prompting that day to choose life.
When many people think of pro-life work, they think of marches, rallies, or heated debates. But so much of it is hidden—small groups of believers standing quietly in prayer, often in the bitter cold or scorching heat, offering their suffering in union with Christ for the sake of souls.
We as sidewalk counselors (sometimes called sidewalk advocates) don't always see the results. But sometimes, God lets us glimpse His work, as I did with Mona. It was a reminder that even the smallest act of witness—the Rosary prayed, the gentle word spoken—can be used by Him to save a life.
When I think of Mona now, I remember not only her fragile beginning but also the generations bound together that day—grandmother, mother, and child. It reminded me of how life is a sacred thread, carried through the family, sustained by God’s providence.
As Catholics, we are called to defend life from conception until natural death. Holding a newborn child is a glimpse of God’s future promise. Sitting at the bedside of an elderly loved one is a glimpse of His eternal past. In both, we encounter Christ, who sanctifies every stage of life.
Every human life, no matter how vulnerable or advanced in years, is an unrepeatable gift. Our task is simple, yet demanding: to honor, protect, and cherish that gift until the Lord calls us home.
I may never see Mona again on this side of eternity. But I pray that someday, in Heaven, we will meet again. And if so, I will know with certainty that one winter morning on a Chicago sidewalk, God’s grace intervened, a child’s life was spared, and lives were changed forever.
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Kevin J. Banet is a journalist and publicist. He provides marketing for religious communities, non-profits and healthcare services. Kevin and his family live in the Chicago area. His website is VocationPromotion.com.
