It's what we do. . .

Remembering back 7 years ago . . . I was attending a meeting of the executive committee of a state organization I with which I work. We were in a hotel in a small town not known for being a tourist attraction. The hotel was one that catered to business travelers. We were sitting in the hotel's "lounge" which doubled as a breakfast room in the mornings. We were eating breakfast. The big screen tv in the corner was turned to a network morning news program, and I was reading the paper. I remember wondering aloud if Micheal Jordan would find a way to make another comeback when the tv switched to the twin towers. The guy said that they couldn't confirm it, but they'd received a report that a plane had flown into one of the towers. We all looked up . . . when I saw a plane come into the picture I honestly thought it was a plane sent to check out the damage . . . since it was so high up. I was horrified and shocked to see it fly into the building too.

There were people in our group who had family, loved ones in that area of the world. We all shared cell phones to help them get in touch with people. I remember calling my husband and learned that the people in his office were already tuned in. I called my family and told my grandmother to turn on the tv because we were under attack.

We watched the coverage for a while . . . and then decided that we should try to meet until we needed to break for other reasons. (Also, we thought it would be good to help those who had not yet reached family focus on something else.) We started the meeting . . . and someone told us that the pentagon had been hit. There was a woman in our group whose husband had a meeting at the pentagon that day . . . and she was having trouble getting in touch with him. The towers came down . . . and we couldn't bring ourselves to continue the meeting.

We gathered back in the lounge to watch the endless loops of coverage. Those of us who didn't have loved ones in immediate danger took care of the others. There were people in the lounge who weren't part of our group . . . and we took care of them too. We brought them tissues and coffee . . . and sat with them. We made sure they could safely return home. I remember one man asking me how I could so easily be taking care of others, people I didn't know . . . and I remember saying "it's what we do. . ."

When we decided to leave the hotel for homes . . . we arranged for one of our group to drive the woman whose husband was at the pentagon home . . . and someone else would follow her and drive her home afterwards. We set up a phone tree to check in as people were able to reach their homes. I drove to my husband's office because, even though I knew he was safe, I still needed to be with him.

I regret that I watched the media loops over and over. After I went to bed, my husband got me up and said there was a new angle . . . it was video of the plane actually going into the building (rather than flying behind it, and not coming back out). I really regret that I saw that view because to this day, that scene still appears in my nightmares from time to time. But, that's what we do too . . . we absorb the nightmares of others. I have a loving and supportive family, and I know it's just bad memory . . . so I can withstand it. I know others gave up more . . . and still need support and understanding.

Vacation and back again

I recently took a real vacation. Not family obligation tour. Not a day or two off to get tasks accomplished around the house. A real vacation. Flying . . . taxis . . . . all new restaurants.

It was actually kind of nice to, for several days in a row, not be "rape crisis lady." I think I got through the entire vacation without once telling anyone what I do for work, and what exactly that means.

And, the first night back, I took an ER call. Nothing like a stark reminder of the two sides of life. In this particular case, the most notable part was we actually had a woman doctor in the ER! I can't remember how long it has been since that has happened. And, I remember thinking during all of the goings on that there was such a tremendous difference between the female doctor and the men. This doctor apologized to the victim for asking her to repeat her story AGAIN . . . she got the speculum in with a single, smooth motion, and she worked quickly while keeping the victim well informed of her actions. Before examining the victim, she made sure the victim had a safe home to return to after the exam was over.

It was a nice way to remember why we do this work . . . and I is always renewing for me to see women working together for another who has been hurt.

Secondary victims

When our agency serves primary victims of sexual violence . . . meaning the people the violence actually happened to . . . we are also on the lookout for secondary victims who may need help. A secondary victim, as you may have guessed, is a family member, roommate, or good friend/partner of the primary victim.

When we work with Moms . . . often I see a delayed emotional reaction. Moms tend to move themselves into a mode of being the caregiver . . . the person handling the details of medical care and interacting with law enforcement, the courts, and support agencies. I warn Moms that they may find that once the primary victim starts to function more normally, then they may relax to the point where they experience their own emotional response.

When I work with roommates, we talk about fear . . . and the need to balance their own desire to be supportive but also taking care of themselves.

It goes on . . . over the years we have seen trends in how people react . . . based on their own position and personalities.

I was recently in the ER with a young woman. She was with her mother and sister. She was very open to assistance and seemed to have very good support from her family. She was not interested in reporting the crime to law enforcement. She could articulate why she was making this decision . . . and had a pretty clear idea what she did want as well.

I could see from her mother's reactions that mom didn't really agree. I think the mother was hoping I would have some magic words to reverse her adult daughter's decision. There was a quiet moment when I could talk to the mom on her own. I explained that it was important that her daughter be given the opportunity to make decisions for herself . . . that the perpetrator had taken the right to make decisions away from her daughter and that she would "heal" better, faster if we could restore decision making back to her, even if we don't agree with those decisions. The expression on the mom's face told me that she understood, and ultimately wanted what was best for her daughter. And, I could see that the mom was relieved that her concerns had been understood too.

Responding

In response to the person who expressed concern about my blogging . . . I would like to point out that I take pains to not identify my agency, my community, or even the state in which I live. I never use client names, and what you don't know is that I frequently alter details about the client, the time line, or specifics of the story so that even if the client herself read it . . . she might say "that sounds a lot like what I went through" but not "that's me."

I tell client stories for two reasons . . . one, because I have absorbed a lot over the years and need an outlet so that I don't burn out and two, because I think that there are lessons to be learned about the experiences of women, survivors, and allies. You may notice that when I write about clients . . . I'm also writing about my thoughts and feelings and impressions as much as the client's experience.

As for boundaries . . . I have very good boundaries . . . of course, I know this because I know what I've been doing over the years. Anyone reading this blog, naturally, is only getting a small snapshot of my experiences. I'll go back and look, but I think that I took pains to indicate that driving clients is a rarity . . . but in a human service organization, sometimes we must be willing to extend ourselves in order to best serve our clients.

In the specific case of the client I transport, I do so as a specific favor to her and her doctor. She is unable to get counseling otherwise. Her first appointment with us, her doctor provided transportation and is willing to when I cannot. From one professional to another, the doctor assured me that she lives in a safe situation . . . just doesn't have a car or drivers license.

Frankly, the flexibility to extend our services in a way that is truly helpful to clients is one of the aspects of the non-profit service agency I appreciate most.

Gifts

One of the rewarding moments in our office is when a client brings us a token gift. Usually, these gifts are handmade items that reflect their healing or reflect their feelings towards our agency.

I have over my desk a cross stitch "A Friend's Prayer" a client made many many years ago. I have a small grapevine wreath with home grown dried flowers glued on it from another client. We've enjoyed countless baked items over the years.

Today, a client brought in a large drawing she'd done . . . representing her healing . . . that is religious/spiritual in nature. The staff all agrees she has a real "Grandma Moses" vibe in her work. She wanted to know if we'd be interested in displaying it in our office. It went up before she left today. We are discussing if having it laminated or framed is better.

Our office is a hodge-podge of posters, artworks, and knick-nacks given to us by people through the years . . . and I think this is one of the aspects that makes our office inviting and comfortable. Our walls tell stories of healing and peace.

Nice Reminder

Interestingly, the only time I start to wonder if my life's work is futile is when I see media reports of sexual assaults. You'd think it would be the day in and day out looking victims in the eye.

Today, I got a nice reminder about why I'm committed to this work. I was seeing a client for the second time. She is a referral from a local counselor. She was scared to add going to the rape crisis center into the routine of appointments. We had a very productive meeting. She has started talking to her family about what happened to her. She is showing more interest in making her surroundings safer. She disclosed information she'd never said aloud before.

While I was driving her home, she let out a long sigh and relaxed into the car seat and said "I feel so much better."

And, that's why I get up out of my warm bed day after day. Those magical five words.

Refreshing

I have mentally been working up a post about this bizarre notion some men and women have about the physiology of male sexuality and their need/right to have sex whenever the mood strikes them. And, I was going to point out several cases, but most notably the one being investigated now with the New Jersey State Troopers. Frankly, I'd like to maintain my naive notion that COPS are smart enough to realize that if you have group sex with a intoxicated college student you JUST met, it likely isn't going to end well for you.

But, then something happened the other day that kinda restored my faith in people. Well, actually two things.

The first was a conversation I had with a board member. She was telling me about how really really nice her 16 year old daughter is. I found it particularly refreshing because so many moms of 16 year old girls are pulling their hair out and complaining about their kids. She was telling me of a family friend who is very ill with cancer. And my board member's daughter came to her mom and asked if she could go spend a few days at this woman's home to help her get it cleaned up for the holidays. She said she realized that with the illness, she wouldn't have the strength to make her home warm for the holidays, and that it must make her sad to be so limited. My board member panicked because the child wanted to go do this mission of sweetness on a day my board member was planning a surprise birthday party for her child. And, even nicer, the child gave no thought to the fact that her birthday would fall during this trip, or that she might expect a party.

Then, today, we had a meeting with a girl who is a senior in high school who has created a "teens against peer pressure" service group at her school. She explained that she was dismayed to see so many of her friends start drinking, using drugs, and experimenting with sex. She saw her friends drop out of normal activities or get in trouble or grades drop, what have you. When she created the group, she invited a large group to her home for a "party" and then had a video about peer pressure and explained what she wanted to do. Apparently, once the kids got over being tricked, they actually joined up with her. They invite speakers to discuss various topics and they are in the hunt for service projects they can do throughout our community. Now how wonderful is that?

It's refreshing to see such great examples of kids being strong, and taking the initiative to make their world a better place when so often our society is so willing to cast all young people as lazy, dumb, or not worth the effort.

Happy Holidays, Y'all.

Epiphiany

I had a great thought today.

I've been involved in volunteer or social change work since I was 14 years old and well over 20 years of my life. I've been doing work around feminist causes nearly as long. I've been doing Rape Crisis work for almost 20 years.

Only rarely, in those years, have I thrown up my hands and wondered if I were on a fool's errand. Most of the time I can see that for the bad that people endure, there is also good in the volunteers who climb out of bed to take on a mission of mercy. I like to think that I've seen the very best that humanity can offer to each other.

In the past year, my agency has been undergoing a shift in how we do prevention work. We are now attempting to take a very focused, deliberate, and systematic approach to addressing the root causes of sexual violence and creating change along the whole of the social spectrum. Big words, eh? We want to prevent people from perpetrating rape rather than continue to tell potential victims how to make the next person a more likely target.

This afternoon, I was in conversation with a new board member about her interest in our agency. She related a conversation she'd had with her boss about wanting to make the community a safer place for her daughter to grow up in. And it hit me . . . . her daughter is 3 now. And in HER LIFE TIME, we actually could see an end to the problem of rape as we know it. It is a very real possibility.

So, what's the opposite of throwing up your hands in hopelessness?

Advocating

All too often, when assisting a client in the Emergency Room, I end up advocating for her claim to the medical and law enforcement staff. I think they have seen way too many wackos or drug seeking or attention seeking folks that they become jaded.

Child victims automatically get sympathy and the staff will do pretty much anything they can to assist. Teen victims often find themselves on either side of the coin . . . . depending upon the first story told. For example, one time one of our volunteers was greeted by a cop who opened with "she's 14, and she's already been pregnant once." The volunteer took the cop's statement to mean that it pretty much didn't matter what had happened to her, it wasn't going to be taken seriously because she was a "bad kid." And, adult victims need to fit a particular behavior pattern in order to be believed.

Recently, while in the ER, we were attending to a woman who was remarkable in her strength and independence. She'd been assaulted by a "date." She explained that for religious reasons she'd been celibate for several years and she was in the "get to know you phase" with the man in question. She described still being "in awe" that he would rape her. She also gave one of the best descriptions of defending herself I've ever heard. She was articulate and cooperative. She thought through her responses and was pleasant to the staff -- understanding that the discomfort wasn't really their fault. And, as I was waiting to see if her adult daughter had questions, a nurse asked me "what do you think?" The real question being "should I waste my time believing her?"

I know people think I'm hopeless for being so willing to believe what my clients tell me. But, we're even because I think they are hopeless because they are so willing to disbelieve everyone.

The Littlest Thing

One of the aspects of my job I have always appreciated is that I don't have the rules and constraints that folks who work for branches of government seem to be bound by. I have open opportunity to do that which needs to be done in order to get our clients the help they need, even when that help isn't EXACTLY my job.

For example, this morning I received a call from a woman in another community. She seemed at the end of her rope. And, she seemed to genuinely want to help herself. She couldn't find a support group that would address her specific needs. She tried calling an organization you would automatically think of in her situation only to find that their help line number had been disconnected.

She gave me a bit of a run down of her current situation and what help she wants. I feel like I did a good job of hearing her. I promised to scout around and see what I could find for her. I called agencies in her local area as well as resources at the state level.

Then, I made the most important phone call. I called her back to give her an update. I explained the agencies I'd called, their response, and that I expected that I'd be able to call her back soon to give her more information. There was genuine relief in her voice. That two minute phone call to up date her let her know she wasn't being regarded as a bother or another loser. She realized that her vulnerability to me was heard and responded to in an appropriate way. And, someone cared about her.

These are all the things we want our clients to experience from our services. We can't always give them a tangible result but we can let them know that they are important, that they were heard, and that they are cared for in our community.

OH JOY

Life in a service providing, rural, non-profit is always hard. Providing services isn't always appreciated by the community, at least until a big case. People with money assume they will never will need our services. And, the work we do is easy to ignore or misunderstand.

We always struggle for money. We work hard to make sure we are accountable for the money we take in. We keep good financial records. We try to know about and adhere to all laws and regulations for non-profits.

But, today, I got the chance to do something that really warmed my heart. I've never done this work for the money. But, the last year has been hard enough, financially, that I find myself awake at nights worrying about money.

Today, I received a grant check in the mail. $50,000.00. It is satisfying to deposit that sum of money in our account - and know that for the next 9 months, I won't be awake nights worrying about money.

Now I can worry about other things - like why it's so hard to convince people that working to end rape is a good thing.

Friday Fun Client Stories

From time to time, we are able to scrape together enough survivors to host a support group. Being that we are in a rural community - that is pretty spread out - and there is high poverty, lots of single parent households, and a seeming preference for medications over counseling, it's difficult to pull off a successful support group. I find if we have a couple of women who have done the AA or NA thing, it's much more successful.

That being said, we have had a few really good groups. We do a combination of written and art projects to give women a variety of ways to express themselves and explore their histories and feelings. One memorable group loved that we had several years ago laughed at me because I routinely would make them all go outside to appreciate the beauty of the sunset.

Another thing we would do at each meeting was go around the room and everyone needed to say one good thing that happened to them or they had done in the previous week. The fun thing to observe was that at the beginning of the group sessions, the women pretty much all would mention good events that they had nothing to do with . . . the ex actually paid his child support on time, the landlord fixed the sink that had been malfunctioning for weeks, and the like. By the end of our sessions, the women were commenting more and more about good things they had done themselves.

So, the fun story today is about a woman from that group. I seem to remember her as an older woman - but it could have also have been because she'd had a pretty hard life - including a run in a federal prison. She had been molested by a local doctor who molested quite a few of his patients. He eventually pleaded guilty to the charges and surrendered his medical license. The molestation and subsequent trial brought up issues from her childhood, past abusive relationships, and her current abusive relationship.

After the trial - which ended when the doctor's wife heard the testimony of several patients (she also worked in the same clinic and knew these patients) and demanded that he take a plea, this woman agreed to attend our group. She actually did really well in the group.

A couple years after the group ended, I ran into this woman in the parking lot of the local grocery store - and she ran up to me and the first things out her mouth were "oh, let me tell you all the good things that have happened . . . "

I knew that even if she didn't get anything else out of our group - she did learn to act on her own behalf to make good things happen, to not let the bad things define her, and to appreciate what was around her.

Friday Fun Client Stories: The laughing matter

Lots of folks labor under the idea that when we serve a victim in the ER, that it is a tense and sorrowful experience. Lots of folks assume that victims cry and are very upset. In fact, most women focus in on the details of cooperating with law enforcement and medical personnel. They may cry a bit, but most of the time, women keep their emotional reaction under control until they have a private moment to let go. But, every victim reacts in a way that is true to their personality and situation.

Today, I was reminded of the laughing moments. We were assisting a woman who was assaulted, nearly killed, and sexually abused by a boyfriend. She reacted in the ways that are totally appropriate for the betrayal of trust she'd experienced. She cried some. She expressed anger. She expressed regret. And, when the doctor was doing the pelvic exam, she expressed the hope that she wouldn't pee all over the doctor.

I like those moments when the victim is able to express the range of emotions - including seeing the ridiculousness of the situation. And, that she trusts that we won't judge her for laughing too.

3 a.m

It's been a hard week around here for purely personal, and a what has to be some outta whack karma, reasons. Nothing worth going into - and nothing that will rock the foundations of society. Just sort of a collection of stuff that, really, the timing wasn't great.

And, whenever I start to gaze too deeply into my navel, some perspective always finds me.

Like the phone ringing at 3 a.m.

Because it's so recent a case, I can't really tell any details - other than to say "kid/adult, $100,000 bond" I love to see cases in which law enforcement comes out in full force. It's pretty easy to bash law enforcement as lazy or disinterested or corrupt. But, the fact of the matter is that we place pretty hefty responsibilities and serious decision making and little pay and little training on law enforcement. Frankly, it's a wonder anyone still wants to be a cop these days.

And, I love to see cases in which medical staff is on top of being good medical professionals as well as expressing appropriate care and concern for the victim. Like most cases, this one involved people who are well acquainted with each other. And, although most of us on "this side" of the crime find it easy to demonize the perp -- in this case, the nurse was sensitive to acknowledge that although the "perp" was behaving very badly indeed, at the same time he was someone they cared about.

I'm pretty confident in this case. The victim is a "good kid" and was cooperative. The immediate family was responding appropriately. Law enforcement and medical folks were on top of their game. And, it's one of those cases in which a jury will be appropriately indignant when they hear the details.

So, it's worth it to be up at 3 a.m -- especially after tumbling into bed at 1:30 a.m.

We're not against sex, we're against bad, hurtful, scary, crime

For some reason, there are some misconceptions about the work I do - and why I do it for that matter.

First, we aren't anti-sex. In fact, we're all for it. We are probably more liberal in our views than many. However, we also realize that all too often, sex is used for everything from selling tacos to controlling whole groups of people. Sex may be the bodily function that is the most misunderstood - and most misused.

Second, I do this work because I believe in it.

I had a volunteer tell me one time that she thought I must be a "closet christian" because she couldn't imagine any other reason I'd do this work, but that I was trying to get into heaven. I actually was insulted by that. I think it's really kinda cynical to think that I wouldn't want to do the right thing, simply because it is THE RIGHT THING.

I don't do this work because I was sexually abused as a child. I don't do this work because I'm trying to work out - or ignore - my own issues. I don't do this work because I have power and control issues.

I had strong feminist influences in my early childhood. My grandmother instilled in me that I should use my talents to the benefit of others. I can't imagine working for "corporate america" where some shareholder is making more money from my labors than I do. I believe that the world is made a better place because I do this work. I believe that people who work to end misery will bring about world peace. I do this work because it allows me to look myself in the mirror at the end of the day. And, some of the people I've met doing this work -- well, I know that my life would not have been complete if I'd never met them.

That and the huge wheel barrels of money I drag home each week. (not)

And, I know more about the bizarro sexual practices of others than the average pervert. And, I have a really long list of people I've seen naked.

The Satisfying Volunteer Experience

Let's face it, the agency I work for exists solely because of misery -- misery caused by the horrifying criminal behavior of others.

I once had a person tell me that she doesn't volunteer because she believes that if society truly valued the cause, we would find a way to support paid employees doing the work. She explained that she felt that the fact people would volunteer for such causes just perpetuated society's refusal to value the cause. The answer to that, of course, is that sometimes a volunteer can demonstrate more compassion and willingness to give to the client than any employee ever could.

This morning, the volunteer on-call took her First ER Call. ( for those who don't quite know what that means - When a person is sexually assaulted, we recommend they seek medical care ASAP --- in the ER - victims receive not just medical care, but also medical staff can gather the evidence and documentation that will support reporting the case to law enforcement. Also, victims can receive treatment to prevent pregnancy and most sexually transmitted diseases. Because of the trauma and the invasive nature of the examination, our agency provides an Advocate to assist the victim in the ER. Advocates offer support, information, and act as a liaison between the victim and medical staff. Advocates also help the victim regain dignity and control over their decisions.) This particular volunteer received our services many years ago.

When I checked in with her this afternoon, she related that at first she was tremendously nervous and worried she'd forget what she was suppose to say and do. But, she said that once she started talking to the client - she was in complete command of what we teach our volunteers. She said that while driving to the ER, she tried to think of all the things our volunteer told her so many years ago -- and what she wished she'd heard too.

She said that the medical staff and law enforcement officer were very professional and caring. She said that the client went from being embarrassed to angry to grateful for the assistance. She said that as they were leaving, the client thanked her for her help.

This is what I hope for our volunteers. On one hand, we hope that our volunteers are never needed, but . . . . well, you know. As someone who works with the volunteers, I want our volunteers to have satisfying experiences. And, this one was about as good as it gets. She felt that she made a connection with the client, she felt like part of the team serving the needs of the client, and she left knowing that her presence made a difference.

And, it's satisfying to me to be able to know that when people are as mean and hateful as they can be to another human, there is someone who is willing to get out of bed and offer assistance and bits of themselves to a complete stranger. It restores the balance of the universe.

The Moment

Many years ago, when I was still fairly new to this work, I had THE MOMENT. That flash in which you realize that the moment you are in matches the picture you hold in your mind's eye as to what your work is about.

I was in the emergency room with a 16 year old girl who had been raped by a neighbor who broke into her home. She was home from school because she was sick. Her mother had gone to another neighbor's home for a few minutes. Her mother thought that the combination of the girl sleeping, the girl's age, and the mom's close proximity made leaving her alone for a few minutes okay. After all, the girl was a good student, active in her church, held down a part time job, and was a virgin.

I asked the girl if she wanted her mother in the examination room while the medical staff gathered the samples needed for the evidence kit. I remember the girl saying no, that her mother "couldn't handle this." The nurse and I exchanged a look in which we understood each other to be thinking -- "and you can?"

We had myself, a female nurse, two female student nurses, a female doctor (which is extremely rare) and a female detective assisting this girl. (The detective was standing outside the door while the actual evidence gathering was being done.) While I held one of the girl's hands and whispered soothing things, I realized that the picture of that room that night was exactly what I imagined this work would be like. A team of women quietly, efficiently, compassionately coming to the aid of woman harmed. Each of us doing our jobs so that this girl might find comfort and justice.

In all the years I've done this work, I've never had another call in which I saw that exact picture again. I've seen remarkable demonstrations of human compassion and caring - but never that exact grouping of all women responding.

Despite it all . . . .

Many many years ago, I was an abused child. Once, my mother tried to kill me. I have this weird mix of very specific and non-existent memories of the event. I was five years old at the time. I was a very small child. I have a dress that I wore in the 4th grade that a cousin was able to wear when she was in kindergarten.

I remember playing army men in the planter box with my younger brother. I remember my mother was wearing her goggles she wore when she was cooking foods prone to splatter. I remember walking away from the planter box. The next thing I remember is my mother clutching me by both arms and holding me in front of her like a shield. We were lying on my bed and my father was coming towards us and my mother was yelling for my grandmother (my father's mother) to help her because my father was going to hurt her.

The next thing I remember is being in a hotel room with my grandmother. She was on the phone with my Grandfather and very upset. I was upset because the china doll she bought for me that had a suction cup on it wouldn't stick to the head board.

The next morning, my Grandmother and Father had a serious talk - I don't remember anything that was said. I remember my father driving me home in his VW and buying me one of those sandwiches that comes from a machine and is packaged in a triangular plastic container. I remember it tasted terrible. I remember my Mother opening the door for us, my Father standing a couple steps behind me. I remember feeling very small and feeling like my Mother was also giant.

In my adulthood, my Grandmother told me that what I don't remember includes my Mother trying to kill me. My Grandmother says that as my brother and I were walking away from the planter box, the bookshelf that had been over our heads came crashing down to where we had just been playing. She says that my Mother was convinced I'd some how pulled the shelf down in an attempt to harm my brother. Both my Grandmother and Father were in the room and they both say that they never saw me pull or tug on anything near the shelf and that they both saw my brother and I walk away. What is strange is that this event is one of the reasons I believe that children do have guardian angels. I have no other explanation as to why we both managed to walk away just before we both could have been seriously hurt.

I have no memory of my Mother harming me that night. My Grandmother says that I don't need to know more than "She tried to kill you."

My Grandmother says that after she and my Father got me away from my Mother, they took me and my siblings out for ice cream. This gave them a chance to discuss what needed to happen in response and got us all out of the house. She says that my younger brother was just a baby and slept. She says that my older brother was wide eyed and frightened. She says that I skipped and played as if nothing were wrong.

Some time last year, I spent much of a night in the Emergency Room with a family who had just discovered that their darling 5 year old girl was being sexually abused by her father. The mother cried and wept. She said that she'd been abused herself as a child and she'd promised herself that her children wouldn't suffer the same. The child's grandmother was practical and attended to the details of reporting the crime and securing help for the child. The child - an apple cheeked, adorable thing -- skipped and played as if nothing were wrong. We made rubber glove puppets. We played word games. And finally she fell happily asleep in her mother's arms.

That night, I realized I was seeing what my own Grandmother had seen so many years ago. I knew that I was in the right job. I KNEW that all the experiences in my life - good and bad - had led me to this place and this moment. And, I know that this child will be resilient and grow up okay.