Yesterday, I was confronted with a malicious post on a forum for Down Syndrome parents, designed to attack one of our deepest fears – that of the sexual abuse of our children. It’s not the first time, and it won’t be the last. Network TV even does it from time to time, exploiting the idea for the sake of drama, to sell Cialis and Crest. It’s almost a familiar emotional road to travel these days, from anger to wanting revenge to wanting mere justice to feeling mere pity and disgust for the adolescent punk, who, if there is any justice in this life, will probably sustain a C4 spinal injury when his ATV rolls over on him, leaving him with his thoughts of how cruel God was to him. Maybe I’m not quite through the "revenge" part, just yet.
It’s days like that one that just make playing with Emma before dinner, or holding her sleeping pj’d form in my arms for just a few extra minutes so much sweeter. I’m pretty sure that Nimrod hasn’t had a hug in a long time, and that is truly a crime – his parents (if he has any) have damaged him perhaps beyond relational repair. Whatever forces may someday drive my adult children to seek therapy, lack of love from their parents will not be one of them. I just hope Nimmy has his accident before he fathers any more of his kind. Crap, there I go again. Sorry.
