Lela Maude Jones was a gangly, awkward, red-haired, over-protected child of older parents. She was my best friend in the third grade--We both had pigtails and were more bookish, as opposed to the tom-boyish traits of our classmates.
One night very near Christmas in 1947, her father killed her and her mother, and set their house on fire to cover the crime. Of course, the incident was the talk of our small town with everyone wondering why the railroad worker, church-going man would do such a thing? I think he pleaded temporary insanity--but committed suicide before entering prison. Needless to say, it was traumatic for me and for Lela Maude's other friends. As far as we knew, there was no child abuse remotely touching our lives, and certainly no murders.
That is not true today for our children. The news is full of molesters and abuses of all kinds (here in Tennessee there were several parents recently arrested for starving their children). The news is full of Michael Jackson (and I say to myself, "What were those parents thinking?")
In my imaginary Hell there is a special hotter place for those who harm children. I know many abusers are simply continuing cycles which began in their childhoods. Somewhere the cycle must stop. Adults like teachers, principals, and Sunday School teachers must help stop it. There have been many times when I wanted to intervene at the grocery store after overhearing a parent's remarks to her/his children. And there have been several times when I have stuck my foot out in front of a running child and said,"This is not the place to run. You might knock someone over and hurt them," while thinking unkindly thoughts about their parents.
It seems to me that the epidemic of abuse in our society could be compared to those heinous crimes of Sodom and Gomorrah.
Lord, help us to remember your sweet words to children and your willingness to have them come to you.
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