Right now, I'm sitting in the dark living room, typing while my boys sleep. One is on the couch and the other in his crib. 1 pm church does not do our family good. I'm beyond overjoyed that we're changing to 9 am in January, because if I haven't complained about it enough over the life span of this blog-church extending past noon is just wrong. WRONG.
Mostly my stomach is churning. I can't stop reading about this Penn State scandal. Shocked that Joe Paterno's sterling career and life legacy is now forever tarnished because he failed to do more when he was in a position of power. Disgusted when I read the details of some of the acts allegedly committed by Jerry Sandusky, to the point where my stomach is churning and my heart aches with pain for innocence lost and the disturbing lengths that people will go to in order to satisfy their perverted urges. No one should ever feel the pain of rape. Not children, not women, and not even men in the rare case that it does happen.
I remember laying on the delivery bed just after I had my last baby, completely exposed to the world, my insides on my outside and everything on display while my doctor did some damage control. I remember feeling embarrassed, in spite of everything that had just happened and how empowering it had been to forego the epidural, to feel the rawness of my own strength and capabilities. Because I had been taken to the brink of death (or so it felt) and yet I couldn't just curl up in a blanket and love on my sweet new baby like I wanted to, my body had to be taken care of first and someone else had to do it. There was no magic pill I could take, no happy place to go to, no way to escape the reality of post-birth events. I had no control over what was happening, a placenta must be delivered, stitches needed to go in. I just wanted to be done. I remember feeling the same way at an early ultrasound appointment after being violated by a very large, prophylactic covered wand. It was humiliating even though no one batted an eye but me. Unfortunately, having a baby means people are continually up in your business. The baby has to come out eventually, which means there's no way around but through. And though it was a low point for me, it was still a situation I had put myself in. No one had made any of these choices for me, I had willingly submitted myself and my body to these events, and because of that it was okay. Embarrassing and really gross at times, but okay.
It is no mistake that within the very source of our most undeniable power, the ability to create life and to experience physical connection with another human being, also lies the most potential for harm. We were given these bodies as a gift, to feel joy and to experience life, yet through this same outlet the most wounding damage can be done. I have a hard time understanding how a person could choose to violate another human being this way, a child no less. I cry when I think about the logistics of such an act, the life long scars the victim will carry, and especially how something so sacred and intimate can be used for such horror. It makes me angry.
It makes me write stuff like this. It makes me vow to never let my children out of my sight, because how could I ever live with myself if someone managed to hurt them in such a manner?
I don't know why I keep dwelling on this. I know the world is full of horrors that I cannot begin to comprehend in my suburban Utah existence. If the allegations against Jerry Sandusky are true, death would be too easy of a sentence. I hope he spends the rest of his miserable existence in general population at a federal penitentiary receiving the exact same punishment he inflicted upon his own victims and even that wouldn't be enough if you asked me.
What are your thoughts on this story? Do you think Paterno could have done more? As a parent how do you protect your children from this crap? Is that even possible? I NEED TO FIND SOME FAITH IN HUMANITY!