Thursday, April 20, 2006

THIS is tissue!

Chris told me that the mother we spoke to earlier in the week brought her young high school daughter back to the clinic for the abortion. She decided to eliminate what she called the "burden" that her child brought upon her. It does not occur to her that she is placing a different kind of burden upon her own child; one that could last for an eternity.

I am concerned about Stan. He is not here again today. I don't have his phone number, maybe Chris or Kathy will check on him. I miss his company and conversation. Without Stan, I have only the birds to keep me company for the forty-five minutes from when the clinic opens until Kathy and others arrive. An older couple walking down the sidewalk with a bag from the Palace Party Store asked me about Stan. For a short time they watched me interact with people coming to clinic. They offered to stay with me for awhile. I assured them I would be fine, and they walked on.

Every person going in to the clinic took my card referring them to a better place than this dirty abortion clinic. I have, on occasion, commented to people to take a good look at this place before entering. It is a free standing building with parking lots on each side, an alley in the back, and the front is right off the road with a nice little sidewalk for us. The rectangular-shaped building is about two thousand square feet. The planter boxes in front of the clinic are full of black lava rocks accented with millions of white cigarette butts. Trash is wedged in and under the one sand cherry shrub at the corner of the building next to the bar's parking lot. The only other shrub is a sorry looking small white spruce planted in a weird spot in a lava rock bed near the door. The dark tinted glass windows and door are streaked with dirt, and blobs of something unidentifiable are splattered on them. The other windows on the building are glass block. The white paint on the brick facing is peeling, and the green plastic awning is faded. Weeds are now growing in the lava rock and in the sidewalk and driveway cracks. I wonder about the cleanliness inside.

A Mexican couple with their little boy came towards the clinic. She told me she is pregnant. I talked to them about going elsewhere. I showed him where he could take his wife for pregnancy care. They listened, asked questions, got directions, and then they left. Then suddenly a pink taxi pulled in front of the clinic exactly behind me. I spun around and heard the man driving the taxi shout to the woman getting out of the passenger front door, "Don't listen to her, don't take anything from her." I told her I have information on better places she could go. I told her she has options, and she took the information and practically ran inside the clinic. He parked in the lot, but never got out of the car. I noticed a small girl in the back seat.

Kathy and Katie came to help. I was very glad to see them. Chris was there, but he leaves us alone during our time in front of the clinic. His approach is completely incompatible with ours. He is relentless with those aborted baby pictures, and he is very insistant that people take his literature. But, he is there all day, and he does have success turning mothers away from the clinic.

Kathy told me that a CPC called her to inform her that they are now taking care of a mother who came to them on Monday morning after talking with a lady in front of an abortion clinic ....that was me! That does soften the blows of all the nasty remarks we get from people driving by or walking past the clinic. Speaking of that, I am now in a bit of a stare-down with a young motorcyclist. Half way through our Rosary, a motorcyclist always stops behind us and revs his engine. The first time he did that we all jumped. Now it is his little game. So when he pulls behind us, I whirl around and stare at him while I continue to pray. He stares back at me through his helmet. We are only about four feet away from each other. The engine rev is no longer effective. I am praying for him (no, really, I am). I can see Kathy grinning when he moves on. Stan would not approve. He has warned me not to engage with people attacking us. He is right, I should not be distracted so easily from the reason we are stop the real attacks, the ones going on inside the clinic.

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