When Your Child Hurts

My heart is full; my eyes have cried themselves empty. I don’t even know where to start. This has been the worst week we’ve had in a long, long time. Six days ago, Sam had an accident and totaled his car. That seems like an eon ago. All week, we have been busy with all things wreck-related. We had to make sure Sam was okay. (He is fine, other than some nasty bumps and bruises that haven’t gone away yet.) We picked up the accident report, took it to the insurance agency, talked to our agent and an adjuster, and all that kind of stuff. We have checked with nearby businesses to see if any of them have security cameras that may have captured the wreck, particularly the traffic light, to determine which driver was at fault. (No luck there, unfortunately.) We have been busy doing, well, stuff.

On top of all that stuff, Sam finally opened up to me and another person about an incident which happened when he was very young. My motherly instinct had told me many, many years ago what happened, but I had no proof, and Sam refused to talk about it until last night. What he told me confirmed my worst suspicions and broke my heart.

When Sam was three years old, I enrolled him in preschool at a church near where we lived at the time. My boss and his family were faithful members of that church, and I believed it would be a good, safe place for Sam to be while I was at work. I’m not going to go into details about what happened there, but I will say a certain person at that church needs to be stopped before more little children get hurt. I had my suspicions at the time, but I had no proof and no certainty of who was to blame. Sam would not speak of it to me at all. I tried to get him to open up, but he seemed to be afraid to talk about it. I did what I could with my limited knowledge and meager means. I got Sam into a daycare that really was safe, and I packed us up and moved us to another state as soon as the opportunity arose.

Although I have known in my heart for the past sixteen-plus years what happened, now that my worst fears have been confirmed, I feel raw, broken, shattered, numb. I believe talking about it has provided a release for Sam, and that’s a good thing. The friend he talked with about it has experience and resources we don’t have to go after the perpetrator. I have provided every bit of information I know in the hopes that somehow the person will be caught and brought to justice. And, I fervently pray for Sam and any other children who have been damaged by the monster.


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