Dipping a toe into oceans of pain

Sigh. I definitely didn’t think it would be easy. Or that I would be immune from shock, pain, horror…

And I really only did dip a proverbial toe.

I read a post.

I saw what it was about (sexual abuse) and thought, “This time, don’t look away.”

And honestly, I may not have even read the whole thing.

I’m not sure.

But as I read, I regretted it. I was instantly sick to my stomach, horrified, traumatized, ruminating. I wanted to protect myself, instinctively.

I tried to go on, and do the workout I’d planned to do.

It wouldn’t leave me.

(And the workout was not great.)

I am a witness.

I am not the victim.

And yet. And yet…

We know horrible, cruel, evil things happen all the time in this world.

But we also call it “sexual abuse” and somehow, those generic oft-used words numb us from truly understanding that these are real victims, real acts, real pain.

Because even reading about it, in small doses… it is too much.

I ruminated. The phrases clung in my brain and I couldn’t catch my breath.

I mourned for victims of sexual abuse everywhere.

The horror these people… these children… have been exposed to, endured, and sometimes died from.

And in my anger, I prayed for justice for these victims. For God to wake us up. For people not to be used as objects for cruelty and sick pleasures. For not one more person to suffer…

Even as I know they continue to.

I mourn for these victims, past and present.

I am thinking about how mourning used to take place for a set period, with bereavement rituals including behavior and dress.

I think if I keep turning toward pain instead of turning away, Lent will be a Lent of mourning.

May we mourn the injustice and abuse in this world.

We don’t have to traumatize ourselves and know the ins and outs of the horror.

But we also need to not look away.

We need to recognize real people have experienced (and still experience) this depravity.

And that they deserve justice.

May we believe victims. May we cry out for justice!