Portfolios - Mayra Rodriguez

DIVINE MERCY

The Power of Divine Mercy

Since moving to the United States in 1994, I’d always lived in North Phoenix. When I took the job at Planned Parenthood, a long drive to work was part of the journey. Years later, when they offered to transfer me to a clinic near my home – I took the opportunity. I was a young mom, and it made life easier. It also kept me closer to my church (maybe God was telling me something).

My family and I were parishioners at St. Joseph and St. Joan of Arc Catholic Churches, and I’d often recognize people praying on the sidewalk, near my clinic. Father Kline, Pastor of St. Joan of Arc, and a group of parishioners would pray there twice a week and every day during 40 Days for Life. I wondered if they recognized me.

Little did I know, they were praying for me.

One day in 2015 during 40 Days for Life, someone left a Divine Mercy prayer card on my windshield. Like all religious contraband, we were required to turn it in to Planned Parenthood Headquarters. But this time I didn’t. Something about it attracted me; so I kept it on my desk.

Years later, in the Fall of 2017 as I was closing the Northeast Phoenix location (due to lost Title X funding), I stopped by the clinic to turn in the keys. I discovered that same Divine Mercy card still on my desk. As I put it in my pocket and finished my final walk through, I had an uneasy feeling. Little did I know, my whole life was about to change.

As I drove to Planned Parent Headquarters to address my complaints about the abortionist and critical health and safety violations I’d observed, I had time to think. I had a bad feeling as I entered the building, and knew something wasn’t right. I held the Divine Mercy card close and I prayed: “Jesus en ti confio, guide and show me the way; you more than anyone else knows what my family and I need.”

I walked into an ambush.

Planned Parenthood never intended to see my evidence, and fired me on the spot. I’d been set up. They hid narcotics in my desk, and claimed that I mismanaged medication, my staff and my job. They intimidated me and knew that outside of the Federation, I had few other options. I pressed the Divine Mercy card close in my pocket, and prayed. How was I going to feed my kids? I gave 17 years of my life to Planned Parenthood, they’d just named me Employee of the Year, I’d never done anything wrong. I felt betrayed and mistreated by a company that I had trust in.

Maybe… my ‘trust’ was in the wrong thing.

That day at Planned Parenthood was the beginning of my journey. God used them to show me that my trust needed to be in Him. Since that day whenever I feel hopeless or lost, especially during my trial against Planned Parenthood, I’ve prayed for Jesus’ Divine Mercy. I trust in Him, not me.

The prayer that I said as I walked into Headquarters that day was heard, as were the prayers of everyone who prayed outside the clinic for 17 years for me. To this day, I remain close with Fr. Kline, and am eternally grateful for the prayers that saved me.

I never could have gotten through any of this without Jesus, and His Divine Mercy.

– Mayra Rodriguez

Going Back

Going back

Today, for the first time since October 2017, I went back to the Planned Parenthood clinic that I used to manage in Glendale, Arizona.

I was filled with mixed emotion; I felt sad, afraid, ashamed, happy, excited and hopeful. This time, I was on the other side of the yellow line that divides Planned Parenthood from the people praying on the sidewalk, this time, I was one of ‘them’. I stood with a microphone across the street and told my story as escorts tried to block us with colorful umbrellas and loud music – but I knew they heard me. I know, because I was one of them.

I wanted so badly to walk into the clinic and tell my former co-workers that I was there for them. I wanted to tell them that I am not angry with them, and that I forgive them. That I did what I had to do for the safety of women, their families and their future. That I had to stand up for the truth, for the unborn and for women. I had to set an example for my kids and for my community. I wanted to tell them that the people on the outside praying really do care.

I wanted to speak to the volunteers, to ask them to hear my side of the story or to read about it because I was just like them. I care for women and I want them to be safe. Most importantly, I was there to pray with the people on the sidewalk because their prayers worked. God wanted me there with them, I needed to show them how grateful I was for their prayers.

Before I left, I walked past the driveway of my old clinic and I tried to talk to them. I asked them to Google my story, that I was once one of them, that I know what they’re going through.

To come to the other side.

I know some of them may be reading this… I want them to know there is help, you don’t have to work there. Reach out to me, reach out to Abby.

And more than anything, I want them to know that I’ll be praying for you.

– Mayra

“The Crazies on the Sidewalk”

“The crazies on the sidewalk”

The year 2000 was almost over when my friend suggested I apply for a job at Planned Parenthood. I wanted to work in the medical field and to help women – and I needed a job. I’ll never forget my first day.

I drove to Planned Parenthood to drop off documents they requested, including my Mexican related studies, to see if I was a good match. A woman praying on the sidewalk called out to me and said “don’t go in there, we can help you.” I hurried in the door.

Once I was inside, the people at Planned Parenthood told me those were the “crazy people” who stand outside to pray and bother patients. “We do not interact with them, ok?” I said ok, got the job, and from that day on I did as I was told, and didn’t speak to them. I didn’t respond or argue with any of them. They were ‘the crazies’.

Through the years – even after the surgical abortion clinic changed locations – that crazy lady was still there!!!!! Wherever we moved, she moved there to pray. And she wasn’t alone, often praying on the sidewalk with groups. I remember thinking “why does she do this? Why would she spend her time on the sidewalk; her mornings, in the rain, 100 degrees, even in the cold?” At some point, she and the other “crazies” started to seem familiar. I’d recognize their faces and the times they would pray, but I didn’t understand them. At some point, things changed, and when I had patients who couldn’t afford a pregnancy test, if we didn’t have any help for them – I would refer them to the crazies on the sidewalk.

In 2016, I took over as Director of the Glendale, AZ Planned Parenthood. On my first day – I remember it was very early – you wouldn’t believe who was the first one to show up at the clinic? Yep! That same crazy lady I met 16 years ago. I thought “she must really be crazy to still be doing this!!” Little did I know, she was praying for me.

I remember from the first day I worked at Planned Parenthood, I was told “those people on the sidewalk don’t help anyone. They just pray, but in the moment of truth they wont help – they have nothing to offer.” I was starting to question this.

During my time as Director of the Glendale clinic, the crazy lady and I became polite to one another; we would say “good morning” and I would warn her if she or anyone praying with her was close to causing problems. After Planned Parenthood fired me, my whole world collapsed; it was very hard to think positively. A good friend of mine was approached by the “crazy lady”, asking when was the last time she saw me. She asked to contact me, and I agreed to speak to her. That crazy lady really *did* care for me. She helped me, and made sure my family was ok. She introduced me to other amazing people like Father Don Kline, and Sheila from Life Choices. That crazy lady believed my story when no one else did; she stood by my side. I’m honored to now call that crazy lady, Lynn, my friend.

Thank you Lynn, Sheila, Fr. Kline and all ‘the crazies on the sidewalk’ who pray every day outside of abortion clinics for people like me. Your prayers helped me, and are clearly heard. I want to be crazy just like you.

– Mayra Rodriguez

Nine minutes

Nine Minutes…

As I have been watching all the news and media surrounding the horrible and tragic death of George Floyd, my mother’s heart cannot help but think about the senseless loss of life. How disposable life has become, and what God’s gift of life is supposed to be.

Nine minutes. That’s all that it took to end the life of an innocent man this week. Nine minutes is all that it takes to end the life of a baby in an aspiration abortion.

It’s upsetting to me how so many can recognize the importance and justice in standing for the life of a man, but these same people are not standing for the lives of the unborn who also cannot speak, who also are being suffocated and who also cannot defend themselves against someone more powerful. Where are the human rights for them?

We need to keep fighting for the ones who cannot speak. For the ones who cannot defend themselves. For the voiceless, especially in the womb where no one can hear them cry “I cannot breathe” while someone more powerful is suctioning, ending their lives, and cutting their tiny, innocent body.

As a mother who values life, I know that all mothers should pray against violence and abortion. I know the answer is that we teach our children to love God and one other, to defend the weak and to stand against injustice – but this has to start from the womb.

Rest in peace, George Floyd; may God have mercy on us all.

– Mayra Rodriguez