Alberta Pro-Life has for many years sponsored an award for outstanding service to the pro-life cause in the province. It's been awarded to many people whose activities vary widely. Some like this year's winner, Denise Mountenay , are outspoken and very public in their work. Others plug along for many years leading and inspiring others in pro-life groups in their own communities. Still others have been awarded for a lifelong commitment to sharing their lives and their homes with disabled children and adults.
My dictionary has a very short definition of the word, "the ability to disregard fear." When we think of great heroic acts like saving someone from fire or drowning, we applaud the hero for disregarding the fear of losing his or her own life to save another. That is one form of courage. The Courage to Serve award, however, rewards an entirely different sort of courage. It's not the instant, no-time-to-think, "I've got to act", sort of courage. No, it's the sort of courage that overcomes long periods of thought, deliberation, counting up of all the costs (it's tough to even think of the benefits sometimes) and then taking the plunge anyway. It denies the nagging doubts, the embarrassments, and the possibility of losing friends or alienating family members. I mention this not to promote our Courage to Serve award, although it may help do that. It has been kicking around in my head since a friend remarked that she's often lacked the courage to wear pro-life T-shirts anywhere unless she knows it's a "safe" crowd. I knew exactly what she meant because I'm the same way. And I don't think we are alone. Many of us are passionate about the dignity of all human life but we find it tough to raise the issue in hostile environments, like Life Chains, outside abortion clinics, or at public events. What my friend noticed, however, was that when she started wearing her T-shirts to the local gym, nobody accosted her with hostile looks or nasty comments. Some people did ask, however, where they could get a T-shirt. A couple of years ago, when my then-9 year-old daughter wore her Rock for Life shirt into the bank one day, I cringed. She came bouncing out to tell me that a guy in the bank had told her he really liked her shirt. These acts always result in a positive experience. I vividly remember a formal reception I attended when the discussion turned to politics and provincial versus federal government. I mentioned my disappointment that the Alberta government had caved in to pressure from Ottawa to fund private eye and abortion clinics. The conversation ended abruptly and awkwardly and within one minute the woman excused herself and found more hospitable company. I was embarrassed and began wondering if I'm too fanatic for polite company. The point is, I think, that my own discomfort is the problem, not the reaction of others. The courage I require is not to overcome the fear of death or torture or even real persecution. It is the courage to ignore my ego, to forget what others might think of me. We've all read those stories about heroes who save people's lives by endangering their own. "I didn't really think about it," they say. "I just did it." My problem is, I have all the time in the world to think and fret about it. I need the courage to "just do it."
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