My sister corrected my previous post about my brother's award at the Houston International Film Festival. She writes, "The film was called "The Strongest Link", I think...Oddly enough, it was a film about the excellent Houston Emergency Medical System and how well it runs and also the emotional aspect of some of it's workers. So there it is, another "connection" with your ambulance heroes."
Thanks for the correction, CACD.
Today, I was hopelessly trying to finish up some work on the house we are doing because of the hurricane that devastated our community last year. We had a limb of a large oak tree crash into the left side of our house causing about $40,000 worth of damage. Many in our community suffered much worse. We are very grateful that no one was hurt. But, we still have some unfinished business and we have a group of people from the school coming to our house on October 5th for an Open House for the school. I have to get it at least presentable.
It's amazing how moving a paint brush up and down causes some kind of therapy. I'm by myself, contemplating everything going on in my life. I think about my son who is "playing" football but isn't really because he is second in line for his position. I see the pain on his face when the coach neglects to put him in even though the team is up by 100 gazillion points. I contemplate my life and why I am actually painting instead of having someone else come in a do it for me. It's a matter of choice, I suppose.
As I was painting today I asked myself why it has taken so long to share my story. I was thinking about other people who have been abused and the fact that you really don't see a lot of stories shared out there. Why? One thing I was thinking was that the people who have been or are being abused are already vulnerable. That's what makes them a target. Then couple that with a general public who doesn't want to know, that makes it even more difficult. Look at the guys who were sexually abused by the priests!! I can't imagine something more sinister or evil. Using your faith as a draw for young men. But it happened and look how long it took to come out. Being in a predominately Catholic community I occasionally see a car drive by with a bumper sticker that says, "There are good Catholic priests". No doubt, but the message I get from that is, "Don't tell." It would be the same if all of a sudden up popped a bumper sticker that said, "There are good teachers." If it was geared toward me, I would feel the same, "Don't tell." Don't tell the truth because it causes all of us to be accountable. Don't tell the truth because I don't want to believe that the person whom I confess my sins to is molesting a young boy. Don't tell the truth because the activist teacher I love is molesting little girls. Don't tell the truth because it makes me look bad because I didn't do anything about it.
Don't tell. Don't tell.
I shall write more later, however, my body and brain is required to change into another frame as we are attending an Engagement party for a friend.
Don't tell......................................................................................
© Copyright 2009 Janet Calcote Simmons All rights reserved.
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