Life is a Gift

Years of covering the March for Life met one unforgettable moment of new life—and changed how I saw the streets of Washington forever

I lost count of the Marches for Life years ago.

The crowds change. Some years a sea of people, others a determined stream. The weather swings from balmy to brutal. The signs evolve, the slogans shift, the faces age and are replaced by younger ones. But one thing remains the same.

The sound.

Laughter. Singing. Prayer spoken half aloud. Teenagers chanting slogans they clearly practiced on the bus ride down. Parents explaining to their children why they’re here. Grandparents moving slowly but deliberately, step by step, as if they’ve been waiting years to make this walk again.

It doesn’t feel like a protest. It feels like gratitude.

This year, though, the march began for me somewhere else entirely.

On the eve of the March for Life, in an act of incalculable Providence, I held my newborn granddaughter, Talia, in my arms…from her mother’s womb into this great big world, and into my grateful hands. There are no words for that moment. Not just for the joy she brought to our family, but for the realization that as I reluctantly handed her back to her parents, I would soon depart for Washington to join tens of thousands of others to celebrate this very gift: the gift of life.

I’ve covered this march for years. But driving south that evening, I understood it differently. Every mile carried the weight of what I’d held just hours ago. What had always been conviction now had a name. A face.

The next day, gazing upon the sea of people as they marched before the Capitol Dome, I thought of Talia.

Watching her tiny lungs rise and fall with each breath. Seeing the fleeting smiles pass across her sleeping face. Feeling the warmth of her gently swaddled body pressed against mine.

A breathtaking gift.

As every child is. As every life is.

They say that for every child in your life, you grow another heart. And while that may be scientifically questionable, it’s beyond question that with every child, your capacity to love expands tenfold.

No other gift has that power.

And it’s freely given. Unearned. Undeserved.

This truth, that life is a gift, is the bedrock beneath everything at the March for Life. But what does it mean to call something a gift? A gift cannot be demanded or manufactured. It can only be received. And receiving a gift requires humility before something freely given.

That posture is written across the march if you’re paying attention.

In the way a young mother hoists her toddler onto her shoulders so he can see the sea of signs ahead. In the way the college students pray the Rosary as they walk, fingers numb from the cold, faces radiant with joy. In the way the Knights of Columbus shepherd the March through the streets of DC.

The March for Life exists because something is broken. Because life is still threatened. Because the work is unfinished. And yet, year after year, the overriding spirit of the day is not anger or despair.

It’s gratitude.

Soul deep gratitude for this gift of life.

And once a gift is received, a new obligation emerges, not the cold obligation of law, but the warm obligation of love. A gift that calls out to be protected. To be cherished..

The pro-life movement is not fueled by outrage, but by wonder. By the astonishment that God entrusts life to us at all. That He invites us to cooperate with Him in something so fragile, demanding, and miraculous.

As I marched this year, with little Talia still fresh in my heart, the reality, the truth of the unsurpassable dignity of each and every life carried new weight.

And one thing felt certain, if there’s one thing worth standing for, loving with all our heart, protecting with all our strength, and being grateful for with all our being

It’s this greatest gift given to us by the Creator of it all…

This breathtaking gift of life.

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You have my heartfelt thanks for your generosity and support, and please keep me in your prayers, and know of mine for each of you. God Bless! Jeff

Talia