Challenging Love to Be Unconditional - PART 49

CRYING FOR HELP

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Birthday Intermission Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20Intermission No. 2 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Part 30 Intermission No. 3 Part 31 Part 32 Part 33 Part 34 Part 35 Part 36 Part 37 Part 38 Part 39 Part 40 Intermission No. 4 Part 41 Part 42 Part 43 Part 44 Part 45 Part 46 Part 47 Part 48

On one of our Heartisan stops at the beach, Quinn and I nestled ourselves near the shore, as the rest of our tribe also found their spot to enjoy an afternoon in nature.   The beach and water were full of people taking in the sun, playing with their children, and having picnics (sadly mostly all fast food with lots of trash).

Quinn and I sat silently in our way, taking stock of all that was happening in our surroundings.  We took a stroll near the water.  I paused to do a little sculpting in the sand while Quinn waded on in.

A couple of dozen feet from us was a widely sprawled extended family.  Brothers and sisters, aunts, uncles, moms, dads, grandparents, and their children took claim to their territory, marked by lots of blankets, towels, chairs, coolers, and some of their trash blowing in the breeze.   This family was obnoxiously loud at times, and as much as Quinn and I tried to be in our own little world, the disturbances were incredibly unsettling.

I joined Quinn in the water several feet off the shore.  We both felt pulled closer and closer to the family, as if we were meant to connect with them.  We remained silent and simply observed, though became quite troubled by their interactions with their children.  

The adults were obviously agitated.  A woman ran in from the shore to the children playing in the water, and began yelling at one of them in particular.  The other adult family members joined in belittling the little girl, screaming in her face.  Quinn and I were about to crawl out of our skins when one of the women snatched her out of the water by her arm and literally drug her back to their temporary homestead on the shore.  She forcefully shoved the girl to the ground, smacked her multiple times, yelled in her face to stay there, and went back to the water where the other adults were laughing and commenting how much she needed that.

The woman kept a vigilant eye on the girl who had made a small motion to change her seating position.  The woman screamed at the little girl as she furiously stomped out of the water.  She angrily grabbed the girl and threw her back down to the ground, she shook her while screaming in her face, administered a few more slaps, more beratement, and threats to beat her within an inch of her life if she moved again or didn’t stop crying.

I immediately began feeling sick to my stomach.  Quinn and I looked at each other and took many really deep breaths.   Though Quinn didn’t have any children, he too was hyper-sensitive to them, and related to them better than any adult I had ever known.  With every breath we felt the agony for that little girl.  Quinn was visibly disturbed for the adults as well, as he processed their explosive anger, frustration, hostility, rage and dysfunction built up for generations.

Neither of us knew what to do.  It felt unconscionable to just stand by and watch this abuse continue.  

Quinn, shaking his head in disgust and sadness, gently entered into this family’s space.  I followed him in support, and hoping to bring some motherly love along with me.  Quinn got down on his knees, folding his hands over his heart and offered them aid.  He said “I can feel the intenseness of this situation and I know there is a better way.  I can help you.  Please let me help you.  It doesn’t have to be this way.”

As if Quinn was the one attacking their child, the adults in the family surrounded him.  They  began throwing insults with their finely sharpened tongues.  They raised their arms throwing out threats to beat him up and take him out.  A lady flew into the circle “That is my child, and that is my sister.  It isn’t her child but she has every right to treat her however she wants.  We are all family and we all stick together.  These are all of our children and we will raise them anyway we see fit.  We don’t need any stranger on the beach to be interfering with our parenting.  Our family fends for itself.  Get away from us. I’ll discipline her any way I want to.”

Sadly I couldn’t really tell if they had been drinking so were in a heightened state of aggravation, or if this was just their normal way of being.  I was pretty sure that considering this was such blatant abuse in the public eye and that they were obviously comfortable with showing their ways  and set on defending their abusive behavior for each other that this was just their customary way of handling things.  I could only imagine what would go on in their house behind closed doors!    To even consider this was extra sad as I imagined that this child would pay dearly once she got home for bringing attention to their family.

“Get out of here!  We’ve called the cops!!  They will arrest you for trespassing into our space and disturbing our family.”

“I am not here to bother you, I am just very concerned for you and your little girl.  Please let me help you.  Please do not abuse this child!”

“You better hope the cops get here before we beat you to a pulp!”

“I hope you do call the cops.  The way you are treating this child is not an acceptable way to treat another human being, even less your own child.” Quinn replied as he got up off his knees with tears running down his cheeks.  “I am not here to disturb you, but you should be held accountable to your actions as the way you are acting makes me fear for your children.  The cops need to see this!  I pray they come to help.”

The family immediately began packing up their belongings, hiking them back to their car.  We were also returning to the parking lot as one of the teenage children walked close to us trying to not only calm the situation as if he had seen bad things happen before, but almost in a way of asking for help.  One of the adults saw him talking to us, grabbed him by the arm and ushered him quickly toward their car.

As we arrived in the parking lot, our friends were playing the guitar and singing in the bed of our truck.  Quinn approached  and almost collapsed near the truck bed to the ground.  He began sobbing.  After all we had seen and been through these past few years, this incident was the first time I had ever seen Quinn cry.  The great pain he felt for this little girl and the terror that resided inside that family was pouring all over the pavement.  All I too could do was stand there and cry for them all.  

There was so much suffering in this family.  It was obvious by the way they treated this child that they were all damaged to a great extent.  They continued yelling at us as they poured into their car, shaking their fists wildly and chastising us for interfering in their lives.  The cops arrived and came to question us.  When we told them the story, they did seem concerned but said they could not arrest those people as they had not seen the abuse taking place, but that they would go talk to them.  Though as we spoke the families drove away.

After regrouping, we got back on the road for many miles  in silence.  There were no words to change any of the occurrences, and there was no safety for the children in that family.  

I am extremely grateful for the awareness I have gained with my children, and grateful for the example that Quinn sets on a daily basis.  Children really love him, feel safe, secure, and truly cared for in his presence.  Even many adults have said they wished they had a dad like Quinn.  To feel his heart break in this experience with this child, made my heart break too--for Quinn, for the child, and for the parents.  It's so sad to know this was just one little incident in the grandness of the world.

When I was a kid we didn’t hear much about people abusing their children.  It was standard practice to spank children at home and even in school, while at the same time preaching the “no hitting rule”.  

Growing up believing that we are bad gives us the assumed right to correct the badness of our children too.  We often feel we deserved it, and so do they.  Many parents still live by that paradigm of asserting physical strength over their kids.

From my own experience in public, parents do not like to be confronted about their parenting, especially being called out in public for abusing their children.  But how can one live with oneself if doing nothing?  I have made many attempts at approaching situations where a child was in danger, and only once was the parent receptive to help.

It’s disgusting to me how many people believe they own their children and feel they have the right to treat them any way they want, including beating and mistreating them.    And it’s even more grossly disturbing that it’s not really all that uncommon for people to treat those little beings so dishonorably.  And it’s horrific that people stick together in standing up for the abuse. 

Physical abuse is unfortunately just one small facet of the abuse parents dole out to their children (and each people in general to each other).   Constantly telling them what to do, how to do it, what to learn, how to learn it, forcing them to sit in a chair for hours a day, having to get permission to go to the bathroom, being on a schedule of when to eat, when to sleep, what is appropriate to say and to wear, how to act…..ad infinitum…..are social standards that everyone takes for granted are necessary for raising decent human beings.

Until we rethink how we control our children’s lives, our thoughts on how capable they are, face our own fears, and hold space for them to truly live, our society will go in a downward spiral.  We need to hold ourselves and each other accountable to raising our standards.

Children are our future, and our present.  The greatest present we have ever received walks amongst us, and gives us opportunity to truly live in love.  The only question is, are we capable of receiving the blessings.

Thank you for reading my blog and for going on this journey with me toward Unconditional Love!

Stay Tuned for Part 50

Get in on the series from @saramiller about her own intriguing  personal experience at the @gardenofeden.

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