don't talk to strangers...

...or to strange people. especially when they're standing outside of an abortion clinic, yelling to women that they're murderers.

i braced myself this morning. i'd heard word that the number of protesters had grown, that the police had been called last week, that they were trampling all over the grass, stalking the escort volunteers, shouting at the women. a far cry from the timid Hat Lady with her satchel of pamphlets. i wasn't nervous, because there were three escorts on this morning's schedule. we could handle five noisy nutcases.

but then i got there, and no one else showed up. S was sick. i didn't know where E was. i checked in with the clinic staff, and they told me there were 16 women on the patient roster this morning. that's a lot. last friday, there were five.

the protesters immediately started in. "we didn't think you'd show up -- we'd hoped maybe you'd had a change of heart," said the lone man in the group. another woman tried to introduce herself, asked how long i'd been "working" there, told me she was praying for my soul. i ignored them. i didn't make eye contact, pretended i was the only one there. when they came right up next to me to ask questions, i casually wandered a few feet away. this left them confused and disconcerted. "i know you can hear me," said one woman who told me her name was victoria.

i didn't blink. but i did help seven women get in safely in the course of about five minutes. it felt like triage, asking some to wait in their car while i helped others in, escorting them to the door in small groups. "do you get paid to do this?" asked the man. "or do you just get the satisfaction of knowing that you're helping these women kill their babies?" all of a sudden, their energy seemed focused on me. three of them huddled, intentionally close enough so that i could hear them. "it amazes me that people who promote abortion can't even discuss it," one of them said.

"do you really think you're protecting these women?" they demanded. "do you really think we want to HURT them?" they sounded incredulous and bitter. their faces twisted in anger. the man looked like he wanted to spit on someone.

i'd been there 30 minutes, and they hadn't been able to hand out a single nasty brochure. so they took to heckling the women. one woman showed up with her infant son and a friend -- the friend had the appointment; the woman with the child was there to support her. the protesters, of course, assumed both women were there for abortions. as the woman hoisted her child from his carseat, the man sneered in her direction, "it's too bad you're here to kill your other baby!"

finally, D, a second escort volunteer, showed up. S had tracked her down, asked her to fill in. most of the 16 women had arrived by now, but four were still unaccounted for. this was my first time to deal with multiple protesters, but D had been here twice before with them. the man saw her walking up the sidewalk. "hello, there!" he shouted. "well, hi, Carl!" D said. she was smiling. so was he. "i didn't think you were coming today," Carl said. "oh, I woudn't miss it! if just to see you!" D said. they interacted like old buddies.

the other protesters looked on approvingly, then shot me smug, reproachful looks.

i asked D why she was talking with them, and she said it was because they were human beings, too, with strong beliefs, that they deserved respect just like we did. that she might have to see them in the grocery store, or at the coffee shop, and that ignoring them completely was disrespectful. "we may disagree about this issue, but we probably have a hundred other things in common," she said. i understood her point. but i also completely disagreed with the tactic. escorting women into an abortion clinic isn't exactly the time to try to find common ground with the enemy.