There comes a write that really takes your breath away. Last night I was reading several blogs and I came across on good friend on here and I truly was amazed with what she had wrote within here allowance I am going to place it within here, lets see if I can do this and this write I found to be very inspirational to say the least. Here is here story and I will as well place down her link.
http://amorevita2.multiply.com/journal/item/53/Taken_back_to_a_time_and_place_of_pain_remembered......
OUR MOST PRECIOUS RESOURCE!
This story (see link below) was recently aired and it was if I had been taken back in time to a place that I thought I would never have to re-visit ever again in my lifetime.
StoryLink: http://www.cbsnews.com/stories/2010/03/02/eveningnews/main6260271.shtml
The similarities in this story are shockingly alike, and consequently, have triggered a memory I thought was long forgotten. The only (one) dissimilarity is that thankfully; my brother and I were not adopted by (any of) our abusive foster parents. This particular story (of the four boys) has been on my mind for days now, and I just cannot seem to quell the need to write about it.
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Paul and Maryann:
Paul was eleven years old, and I was eight. (Or thereabouts) One day, Child Board of Welfare came to our school (our clothing packed in suitcases waiting in the car), and took us directly from school to a new foster home. We were not told the reason for removing us from our current foster home, only that we were going to a new home. Well, by this time, we were pretty used to being bounced-around from one foster home to another, and so it had become part of our young existence.
I can remember upon arriving at our new home, and our new foster parents greeting us with a smile and hugging us. Our caseworker apparently felt satisfied, and so off she went leaving us to our “new life.” This foster couple had two children of their own (daughter and a son) whom I think were in their pre-teen years. Except for one memory, I do not have any other memories of interacting with them, which, in retrospect, is kind of strange. Later on, as an adult, and taking into consideration how my brother and I were treated, I now believe that this (non-interaction) was intentional. After all, we were not related, came from a broken-home, and therefore were inappropriate playmates for their children. Not good enough, clear and simple!
This is the (only) memory I recall of interacting with their kids. One day, my brother (Paul) and I were outside playing, and their son began taunting us. Paul picked up a stone and threw it at him, and this kid ran inside the house crying and screaming. Both his parents came running outside and began yelling at Paul. I was then told to sit still on the outside steps, and to not move from there. The lady went back into the house, and the man yanked my brother by his arm, and dragged him into the garage. I heard what sounded like a muffled screaming, so I sneaked over to the garage, and to my horror, I saw my brother hanging upside down by his feet, with a rag stuffed in his mouth, and this man was beating him with a belt. As I ran away scared and crying, I could hear Paul screaming in agony for what seemed like an eternity. I spent many years of my life haunted by that sound, and by that image of my brother hanging upside down by his feet. Just thinking of it now, is no less painful then when it happened. This was my brother and I loved him. As children, we were all we had.
From that day forward, our meals were served to us on the basement steps, while the family ate theirs together at the dinner table. From that day forward we were restricted to the basement and not allowed to watch television, and/or join in activities with the rest of the family. Our meals became sparser and sparser, and much less frequent. I remember feeling so hungry as I could smell the aroma of the food being cooked upstairs in the kitchen. They would beat us for the slightest infraction, so we pretty much learned to just do what we were told, and speak only when we were spoken to. The only saving grace was when the family would all go out together, and leave us home alone in the basement. We WAITED for this, as this was our chance to get something to eat. We were too scared to take anything from the kitchen, so we would rifle-through the outside garbage cans looking for leftover scraps. We were always so hungry! (I can still picture the haunted look on my brother’s face, which today, I recognize as the look of hunger).
God intervened. One of their next-door neighbors saw us going through the garbage, and evidently called the authorities, and so once again, we were removed from school, and taken directly from (school) to yet another foster home.
How is this allowed to happen, then and now? Where were the school authorities in all this? Could they not see that my brother and I were mal-nourished, and dressed in raggedy clothing? Could the school authorities not see the obvious signs that those four boys were being starved literally to death? In our case, since we were not adopted and thus, under the jurisdiction of Child Welfare, where in the heck were the caseworkers during all this abuse?
My heart is filled with amazing joy and such a feeling of triumph for these boys who, for the last six years, have been living in a loving home with all the food, love, happy smiles, and laughter that they need! Today, they look absolutley wonderful, and completely healthy! Their years of abuse and starvation are over. With lots of care, lots of love, lots of time, and counseling, their scars will begin to heal, and their nightmare will become dimmer and dimmer in their memories. Just as I haven’t, they will never forget, but they can, and will, go on to happy and fulfilled lives. God is good!
I don’t know about you, but I can say, without one second of hesitation, that I would literally give-up my life in the protection of a child. Our children are our most precious resource, and we MUST BE THEIR VOICE, when they cannot speak for themselves. We need to protect, nourish, and cultivate each and every child, and provide him/her with a safe and secure environment so that each child may grow to his or her full potential. It is our God-given responsibility!
The story of those boys has a happy and heartwarming ending! I owe my life today, to God, and to God, alone! It is through His Guidance, His Amazing Love and Grace, and His strength within me, that my story had a happy ending, too!
“That was then, this is now!”
Footnote:
I often write on the subject of child abuse because not only does it touch me personally, but, I have, and continue, to stand-up and advocate against child abuse. It needs to be even more out in the open than it is…. we are the VOICE for all the children in this world who are unable to speak-out for themselves. Thank you for taking the time to read this. I am very passionate about this subject and will spend my life continuing to speak-out against any and all forms of child abuse. May God bless you as He has, and continues to bless my life today!