My adorable, precious, beloved children
frolicking on the beach (2007)
"Know you what it is to be a child? It is to be something very different from the man of today. It is to have a spirit yet streaming from the waters of baptism; it is to believe in love, to believe in loveliness, to believe in belief; it is to be so little that the elves can reach to whisper in your ear; it is to turn pumpkins into coaches, and mice into horses, lowness into loftiness, and nothing into everything.
For each child has its fairy godmother in its own soul."
- Francis Thompson
I write this post with a very heavy heart. I'm sure that you've heard all the sordid details of the horror that's happening at Penn State. I have read the 23 page grand jury report - I suggest that you read it too. You'll have to Google it because I refuse to befoul my blog with the link. I was not going to blog about this horrific situation - but after nearly 2 weeks of hearing and seeing the reactions of a truly troubling number of our society (some news reporters, other bloggers, pundits, students at Penn State, etc.) I could no longer stay silent.
This particular brand of evil is not coy or shy. This particular brand of evil revels in the depths of its depravity. It's life blood is twofold: the soul of innocents and its reliance that people will deny, look away, devise bullshit platitudes and rationalizations for letting this particular evil have its way. Well, I will not look away - I refuse to - and I invite you to do the same.
When it comes to these beautiful, precious child-victims (or any for that matter) I don't give a shit about football, or a coach's career, or the prestigeous standing of a university, or the dissapointment of sports fans, or the fears, apprehensions, and/or rationalizations of adults. Not one chip! In a world where there is admitedly a lot of gray, there is absolutely none here. There is nothing that anyone can say to me that will rationalize and/or explain to me how anyone could walk away from a 10 year old child being raped - NOTHING. And if I sound judgemental - good, I am. And if I was the one who walked away from a child being brutalized, I would expect you to have the same judgement about me - I'd deserve it, and you'd be right.
Several people have commented "what if it had been your child, nephew, niece, or neighbor's child?" Of course, that's understandable. But I say - what about the child who is a stranger to you? Every child is precious, unique, extraordinary. This whole situation is so horrific, so mind blowing, so stomach churning, so...sad!
But you know what part of this story makes me cry? No one knows that poor child's name. It's horrific enough that no one saved him, or stopped his rapist from raping other children. It's horrific enough to know that he most likely received no medical attention for his tiny 10 year old body. It's enraging enough that McGueary, Paterno, Curley, Schultz, Raykovitz, Spanier, et.al. and their supporters vehemently avow that they did everything within their power - when we clearly know that they did not. But what makes me sob is that they never asked or tried to find out this poor boy's NAME.
Little Precious Boy,
I don't know you. I don't even know your name. We'll never meet. But I want you to know that I do not deny, look away or rationalize what happened to you. I know that you are a young man now and though you are a stranger to me (and I to you), since I learned about what happened to you, when I look at my children, when I embrace them, I think of you and send you a mother's love. I am enraged on your behalf. And though I don't know your name, I worry about you and I hope that you are somewhere safe and that you are loved.
Peace and Grace to us all,