“How many?” I’m never asked to explain. There are phases, and words used on the “sidewalk” that need little clarification. They know what I mean, and the question is usually answered without hesitation. Today the answer was nine. Nine moms came to the clinic. And, for the briefest of seconds I felt relief. Relief that the number wasn’t higher. Relief is the new glad here. It never lasts long. The number always brings a realization that only one number will ever truly satisfy that question. Zero. Nine is no substitute for zero. I’d like you think that once you hear the complete question, and answer you’d feel the same way.
“How many women are in the clinic waiting to have an abortion?”…