I figure God has me here for a reason.
I am not sure what.
I figure God gave me a loud mouth for a reason.
And I hope it’s not to just stick my foot in it.
I figure God made me physically strong for a reason.
And it’s not about my body, I’ve learned that one.
I figure God gave me an extraordinary amount of fearlessness when it comes to having my children in a “hood” (not my words, but those of the people who know our area) school.
I hope it’s not really ignorance.
I figure God gave me a passion to protect children.
And it isn’t because I want to collect children. I have my complete set. I don’t need/want anymore, just maybe to hold your newborn.
I wish I knew why God has me where He does, and gave me these certain character traits like He has but I don’t.
All I do know is that I will use what He has given me for Him when He asks.
Yesterday was a weird day.
I didn’t think of my safety at all.
I saw a child getting beaten and put myself in the middle.
In that split second decision I had no idea that the safety of my family could be at risk. All I saw was that a child, one of God’s very beloveds was not being treated in a manner worthy of who they are.
In the strangest turn of events the custody of the child was given to me. At the moment I scooped up the child, I was told “I don’t want her. Take her. I don’t want her anymore.”
In my arms was a child clinging to me, crying “Take me home with you. I want to go home with you.”
I didn’t know this child.
I had no idea what I was agreeing to.
“I’ll take her” I said.
Here’s the thing.
I had witnessed this abuse before. To this very child. I am not a required tell in the state of Florida to report it to the abuse hotline or social services. I have a moral obligation to report what I saw to the proper people, and that was the school the child went to and where the abuse happened. I did. I even followed up with the school later to see if the director had contacted whoever she needed to contact about the abuse I saw, and was told that it wasn’t her place to report because she didn’t see it. This didn’t sit well with me, but I let it go.
I went directly to the family. I told them what I witnessed. I asked if they were seeking help. They profess Christ as their Savior, and Biblically I am to speak with them about an offense first. I was assured that they were seeking help, and that it would never happen again.
I am not a license foster parent here. I am fly under the radar and go about my merry way and pretend that everything is jolly good in my little slice of the Promised Land.
Every time I saw this child, I would pray for safety. Every time I saw this child my heart sank.
Something in me sees when a spirit is broken. This child is wounded. At 4 years old, your eyes should not hold so much sorrow.
Yesterday when the abuse happened, this time I wasn’t the only one to witness it. This time there was no time for the school to get involved because the child was in my custody and I was going to be the voice of this child until someone heard that she needs help. I apparently didn’t speak loudly enough, or to the right people the first time I saw something happen with this child. And even this time as I spoke to all the “right” people, I was told “I see why (the Gaurdian of the child) did what she did.”
My jaw dropped.
The very person who was supposed to be there to protect this child from abuse, a State Licensed Social Worker was reasoning that abuse was warrented in this situation, because this is a difficult child.
Wrong.
Incorrect.
And I rebuked.
“No child deserves to be hit. I don’t care what they did or how hard they are. There is never a reason to put your hands on a child to harm them in anger. Ever.”
She backtracked quickly, but the truth (or her version of it) had been spoken as to what she believed.
Shortly after I was dismissed.
I was not asked what led up to me having custody of the child. I was dismissed.
Clearly I must be some granola mom who thinks that you should use love and logic in all circumstances and never spanks her kids. All this kid needed was a good ass whoopin’. Right? That’s not abuse. Is it? (PLEASE HEAR MY SARCASM HERE!)
The thing is. I spank my children. I do believe a spanking is warranted in some situations. Never to shame. Never in anger. Never out of control. And never, ever with the force you would use to hurt an adult. To quote another man who witnessed the altercation “That was the force you’d use to beat an adult.” It was wrong.
But because it was a spanking it gets fuzzy. Because of cultural differences it get fuzzy. Because the government is involved it gets ALL KINDS of fuzzy.
I honestly don’t know how to wrap this up.
I wish I was a more eloquent blog writer and this would get shared, and maybe people would read this post and we would stand together against child abuse in all its forms no matter the cultural difference, but I am not. I am just a mom. That’s all I do. Sometimes I don’t do it well, but I pray that love is the lesson my children learn from me.
Millions of people will never know my name, but God showed me that my legacy will be far reaching. My children know of what happened yesterday. We prayed for this child and we talked about how often times when children are mean it is because someone in their home is being mean to them. We talked about how this is why mom and dad are so up their butts about being kind to each other, and being more like Jesus. And I prayed last night as I tucked them in, that even though I failed this little girl that I not fail in the raising of my children. I prayed that my grandchildren will never endure abuse, and their children will never endure abuse. I want to leave a legacy of hope, love and redemption because what I am seeing is that anger breeds anger. Hate breeds hate. Abuses breeds abuse.
We have the chance to fight that.
Us, the moms. The ones who feel like nothing we do matters. WE MATTER. We have the chance to change everything. It doesn't matter the pit we've been in. It doesn't matter the abuse we've endured or what everyone else has said we will become. We make the choice to change. We make the choice to say "Enough." We make the choice to believe that abuse CAN breed love. We are not so broken that we can't change. "No pit is so deep that God's love is not deeper still"- Corrie Ten Boom We have the chance to change. In our children may we breed love, mercy, grace, justice and Jesus.
