I have read so many stories lately dealing with child abuse.
The latest one, a woman was shoplifting, about to get caught and she simply left her child in the store so she could flee from security.
I read about the child who is removed by Social Services for abuse only to be returned to the parents at a later date. Some of these children end up being abused again or worse, actually killed by their parents.
I grew up when such things were not discussed.
There's more....
My story is a lot like other kid's stories.
Abuse is insidious. It robs you of so much. It takes away your trust, it takes away your security and it takes away your stability.
What is funny to the parent today, sends them into a rage tomorrow. What you were permitted to do today, you were hit for doing yesterday.
The rules change but no one ever tells you what they have changed to.
I actually sought counseling on my own at age 12 from the school counselor but when my parent found out there was hell to pay.
Being hit until you admitted to doing something that you DID NOT DO was humiliating. Then you were punished for lying, even though you didn't lie, you just admitted to doing it in order to have the beating stop.
The worst though is seeing your younger siblings going through worse and being unable to stop it. I will never forget the feeling of helplessness and rage I had at those times.
But I want to tell you how a simple nickel helped me so much.
My first grade teacher, for some reason, was particularly kind to me. I remember asking her if I could live with her. I adored her and lived to go to school.
It was incredibly embarrassing but most days my parent would not give me a nickel for my milk with lunch. She forgot, or was busy or maybe she did it on purpose. There wasn't much food around the house and snacks were forbidden, so as a kid I was continually hungry. We weren't poor (I grew up in a 5 bedroom house) but for some reason my parent would only use powered milk which was horrible tasting to a kid.
But back to my teacher. She saw what was going on and most days she would produce a nickel and pay for my milk. And not hand it to me in front of others, but simply tell me to get my milk along with the other kids. Then later she would put a nickel in for me.
I know it sounds so simple but that generous act by my teacher meant so much to me. It showed me that there were nice and kind people in the world. That not everyone was cruel.
I guess I just wanted to tell everyone, that even the simplist act can have a lifelong effect on someone.
Next time you see the kid who doesn't have the "right clothes" or who perhaps doesn't smell clean, try to remember me.
And toss that kid a nickel.
It may just be the lifeline they are looking for.