When the news broke this morning, as reported in the Gothamist, that Planned Parenthood of Greater New York would close its flagship Manhattan facility at 26 Bleecker Street, citing financial pressures and mounting maintenance costs, I almost fell out of my chair.

This was no ordinary closure to me or to the countless others who've stood on those sidewalks in prayer. This was a moment of Divine intervention — a testament to the power of grace.

It seemed especially fitting that the announcement came today, on the feast of St. Joseph. St. Joseph, guardian of the Holy Family, embodies faithfulness, humility and silent strength. His life, marked by unwavering obedience to God and protection of the most vulnerable, mirrors the quiet, steadfast witness of those who’ve prayed outside the facility.

I’ve documented the quiet but unwavering presence of the Witness for Life and 40 Days for Life prayer vigils for over a decade. Month after month, year after year, through the biting chill of winter and the sweltering heat of summer, people of faith gathered there.

They didn’t sing or shout slogans.

They didn’t protest or provoke.

They simply prayed — for the women walking through those doors, for the unborn children whose lives hung in the balance, those who worked there, and for a culture that often seems spiritually blinded to the sanctity of life.

This closure might seem like just another business decision, another casualty of financial strain to the outside world. But to those who’ve knelt on those sidewalks, who’ve poured out their hearts in prayer, it feels like something far more profound: a miracle — a moment when heaven touched earth and the countless prayers of the faithful were answered.

The journey hasn’t been easy. Those who’ve stood in prayer outside the clinic have faced hostility, scorn and outright hatred. They’ve been mocked, targeted with profanity, and felt the sting of rejection, simply for standing in silent witness. But in those moments, Christ’s words echoed: “If the world hates you, realize that it hated me first” (John 15:18).

But now, as the doors of 26 Bleecker Street prepare to close, this chapter will come to an end: a victory, a Jericho moment — not born of human effort, but of grace.

The battle for life is far from over; but, today, there’s cause to celebrate, because this reveals firsthand how God works in ways we cannot always see.

And today, we’ve witnessed a glimpse — proof that, through prayer, trust and love, miracles can … and do … happen.

And sometimes, they happen on a quiet street in Manhattan.