Monday mornings I am usually asked a typical college question: “What did you do this weekend?” The answer varies but is usually something like “I slept, I ate, I watched movies, I went to a party, etc...” This Monday morning I gave what seemed to be a very strange answer. “I sat on a bus for 30 hours, and met up with several hundred thousand strangers in Washington D.C. to send a message to the country. That message is simple and timeless; it speaks to all generations, faiths and cultures. All human beings have the right to life. Do not kill my brothers and sisters.” These hundreds of thousands of strangers became close friends through this message. I say close friends not because we see each other all the time or because we have a lot in common. We became close friends because we share a common principle that bonds humanity together. I could look into the eyes of anyone there and know that they respected me not because of how I was dressed or how much money I had or any characteristic about me except for the fact that I am alive and deserve respect because of it. They saw me as a child of God. One thing college doesn’t teach is how to separate one’s self from most every aspect of the culture. Some aspects of our culture are good. Littering is frowned upon, and you shouldn’t abandon your dog on the street. Try to get into the best college you can, save your money and invest for your future. These principles are good, and there are more good principles in our culture. College encourages all of these. One thing college in general does not teach is finding grace. Our culture denies grace. It says everything we receive we should deserve, and if we deserve it we should not receive it. If we have not worked for something, we should not benefit. Generally this is good, but this is not how God works. The grace of God is bestowed upon us when we open our hearts to him, not because we accomplish a set of goals or raise a certain amount of money or volunteer a set amount of hours. This weekend I was able to open my heart in Washington D.C., at the annual March for Life. I have done it before, and hopefully will continue to do so, but this weekend was particularly poignant. When I stood at the corner of Constitution Avenue and First Street near the Supreme Court building, and saw the multitude of my brothers and sisters behind me and in front of me, all of the mixed messages I had from the media and culture melted under me. Upon my return to Chicago, I felt a peace one only feels when they know they are not alone. Yet I was alone now. I set my bags down in my room and sunk into the chair in front of my desk, alone. I did not feel alone because whenever one speaks out for the weak, they open their heart to God. I am not a saint and doubt I will ever be recognized as a great person, but I felt great. I felt great not because I had changed the course of history but because I had allowed my heart to be open to the grace of God and he entered me, and sat with me, in the solitude of my dorm room. The grace of God is the ultimate companion of mankind. When I open my heart to the grace of God, I no longer feel alone, no matter where I am. I hope my protest in D.C. made a difference in the lives of others. If it didn’t, I’m OK with that, because it made a difference in my own life.