Where is that trap door in the floor when I need it?

30 Oct

Last year while working a different job, in a customer service department of 130+ people, with many different mindsets, people from all different walks of life and varying ideologies, there were plenty of opportunities for conversations of consequence.   I worked with people who flaunted the homosexual lifestyle, who thought birth control to be the norm, and didn’t blink at the profanities of every sort that flew around during nearly every conversation.

The customer service department was a very structured, organized, fast-paced environment.  Our desks were set up in groups of four, facing inward, hence providing and promoting teamwork.  In our “cube of four” it was, in effect, continuous round-table work with the occasional “conversation of consequence.”

One such day I was sitting at my desk minding my own business, doing my thing, when the conversation turned toward the topic of politics.  The people in my team of four (all women) were talking about Obama, proudly announcing voting for Obama, and were pretty much singing the praises of Obama.  (*Here emerges from me an inaudible sigh of disgust*)

I sat at my desk.  I scrambled for something to distract myself.  I began to sweat.  I wished 0h-so-badly that a customer would call and I could snatch up the phone and excuse myself into a conversation on the phone.   I wanted to be anywhere but my desk at that moment.  I wanted to do ANYTHING to keep out of the conversation about how “wonderful” Obama was.  WHEREISTHATTRAPDOORINTHEFLOORWHENINEEDIT?

All the while my conscience sat there twitching.  I felt nauseous.  I knew I had a gift, that of evangelization via being a missionary by baptism, (which all who are baptized have this gift – see the Catechism of the Catholic Church, aka CCC 1268) to deliver the Gospel message of Life, but I wanted SOOO badly to excuse myself from the desk lest I throw up in my mouth scream at their way of thinking.

Then it happened.  I knew I had to say something.

I prayed to St. Michael for guidance and addressed my team.

I took a gulp of air, looked up from my desk, looked my co-workers in the eye, and calmly but firmly told them: I would never vote for Obama because of his stance on abortion.  I could never vote for someone who so un-ashamedly & proudly justifies and promotes the killing of innocent babies.

What I got in reply was amazing.  Complete and utter silence.  All three of my team-mates sat looking at me, not knowing what to say.

I didn’t press the issue, I didn’t say anything else.  I had told them what I thought and gave them something to chew on.

They chewed on it for a long period of silence.

In the end I was glad there was not a trap door in the floor.  I was grateful for the opportunity to plant the seed of the Gospel of Life in the hearts of my co-workers.  Who knows if their hearts were changed.  Mine certainly was.  My heart was filled with even greater courage and enthusiasm to speak the words of the Gospel when another opportunity presented itself.

Praise God.

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2 Responses to “Where is that trap door in the floor when I need it?”

  1. future garage November 17, 2012 at 10:12 pm #

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