From Mother of abused to wife of abuser - in one quick newspaper article

It is a new role this time around. It did hit the papers. Two out of the three in our area. I have not looked in the third paper actually and have not asked anyone. I just don't want to know any more.

When it happened the first time three years ago - I filled a simple role. Mother of the abused. It was a role people could get behind and support. The issues were clear - I was not there - I could not have known. I was as shocked as they were.

It is all different this time around. I had my first person run away from me in the store. I was not angry at her. She is the mother of a friend of my daughter. Her daughter has come to stay at our house more than once. I know she is scared for her daughter. Upset for mine. Wondering how a man she knew could ever do this.

I am familiar with all of those thoughts. But here is where the path veers off. You see if it is true - that I really did not know anything. That I met, and fell in love with, and had children with a man who was capable of doing this to my daughter - and I really had no clue. Then it could happen to her. And of course the pain and horror of looking at being afraid of something like that is unimaginable. So in order to put her world back into some kind of safety zone in which to live, it is easier for her to think that I knew - and chose not to do anything about it. Which of course makes me someone to run away from.

Church was different this Sunday. On the one hand, there was a freedom from not having to measure every word and lie. But there was also no really pressing in to the Lord for me. You see I had already steeled myself. Wondering what people would think. I walked in looking back at everyone looking at me. Did they know? Had they read the article or articles? If so which one - one was more descriptive than the other. What were they thinking of me?

So the freedom came with a price. Does all freedom come with a price? I hope I can go back next Sunday, close my eyes, and be vulnerable again to my God. I hate walling off my heart.

K