Better Late Than Never

As April comes to a close, many of you may have noted several blogs promoting awareness of a few different topics. Two are near and dear to my heart. The first of these is autism. I remember once reading about it in one of those longer Reader Digest articles as a middle-school student. Back then, autism was portrayed as extremely rare. For any of you that have switched on a TV or picked up a magazine this month, it's apparent that autism it all too common and that we need to focus not only our financial efforts towards finding out more about its causes and treatment, but also our efforts at being compassionate when we see a mother, father, or sibling dealing with a child who seems too old or too big to be behaving in a manner we deem "inappropriate."

My friend Christy's son Caleb struggles with autism, and she has devoted this month to discussing autism awareness. Through her blog I've followed her progress with him first in getting a diagnosis, and learning to effectively deal with him and help him to become the best Caleb that he can be. Having said that, I was incredibly impressed with how well she handled him on a visit here a few years ago before we knew there was anything more going on with him than just being two years-old. She has always done her best as a mom, and now she has the help she needs to become even better. She has posted frequently about autism throughout the month, and has spent the month taking donations for autism awareness. Today is the last day to donate for April.

My second cause of the month is sexual abuse awareness. I apologize to Christy for posting this so late, but I had planned on mentioning both topics, and I think this post comes at the end of the month because I wasn't ready to address this. As I've mentioned here before, I am a survivor of sexual abuse. The boyfriend who perpetrated the abuse I'm sure would not see it that way, but I certainly did. I've blogged about the experience before, and don't feel the need to go into the details gain. Just know that one simple act of abuse on his part haunted me for years. Ultimately, I think I've become a stronger person and put it all behind me, but it has taken a long time and I can't count the number of friendships and other romantic involvements that suffered as a result of both my inability to trust afterwards, and frankly my inability for the first several years to be honest with myself and others about what happened. While our daughters can recover from things like this, I think it's better that they don't experience them at all. Obviously, we can't protect our children or even ourselves from everything; but we can make them and ourselves aware. I was not assaulted by a random stranger, but by a boy I thought I liked and who my parents trusted to be alone with me.

Some of the things I tell the Young Women at church and am slowly slipping into conversations with my oldest daughter are that their beliefs and choices about their sexuality are THEIRS and no one else's and that anyone who would mock or undermine their personal feelings is not someone they can trust. I've told them to enjoy "happily ever after" in Cinderella and other movies like it, but not to expect it for themselves. Things don't turn out happily without daily effort on our part to make the right choices and deal with the consequences of the wrong ones. I encourage them to date in groups, not to date anyone exclusively, and to remember that there are certain things in life that don't come with do-overs. And when I hear comments like Natalie's about love turning bad guys good, I am quick to point out that life isn't like TV as much as some would like us to think that it is. But no matter what we say, no matter how hard we try to teach our daughters to make good choices; my bottom line is that my girls also know I love them NO MATTER WHAT. I stayed with that jerk for two years after the initial assault, not out of love or enjoyment; but shame and obligation. I thought that marrying him was my only way to make things right with God because I didn't ever feel that I had an adult to confide in who would have told me differently. (Though in my defense, that is what my own mother would have said-of course, I knew she was crazy even then.)

So, talk to your girls. Keep it age appropriate, but talk to them early and often. I didn't realize I was doing as well as I had until Natalie and I started chatting last Saturday and she rolled her eyes and said "I've heard this before..." Good. I'm glad she feels that way. Love your daughters so much that they can't help but love themselves, and let them know you love them in a way that makes them believe that they can tell you anything. I'm not sure that will do away with every instance of sexual abuse, but it sure couldn't hurt. For more on this topic, I also refer you to my friend and fellow-blogger Angela Giles Klocke who also speaks out against abuse of all kinds. Earlier this year, I was privilaged to read her early draft of "When I Was 13," which will be published as a book later this summer.

We will get back to lighter subjects and birthday fun for the rest of the week. I promise...