NO DHS

As I noted yesterday in my blog, the subject of respect is so encompassing it will take longer than one to two days to share my personal perspective of the subject. I was reared at the hands of extremely abusive parents, so severe that over 50 years later, a happenstance with a neighbor from those childhood days gave us the opportunity to converse. She and her family lived several houses away, but they heard my screams as my father beat me profusely. Unfortunately, it was pre-DHS days (1950’s-1960’s) so there was no one to intervene; no one to aid me in my pleas and cries for help.

However, years later when I was a wife and mother in my 30’s, one of my counselors required that I discuss my past with anyone whom might have known me as a child and teen.  I contacted my pastor from those years and yes, he admitted he knew I was abused, for I came to church with bruises and injuries, but it wasn’t “his business” to interfere (as he cited).

I also telephoned my maternal uncle whom resided out of state. I had seen him only two or three times after my parents left their home state of OH but was hopeful he could give me some insight. Uncle Dick was aware of the abuse when I was a mere infant. He said when I was not yet one year of age, my father would grab me out of my highchair by one arm and beat me; for what Dad my have deemed horrible wrong doings by an infant. Uncle Dick believed the abuse had ceased and was saddened to know it never stopped.

As I shared with him, no it had only increased and even now as a adult with my own life, the emotional abuse from my father was as intense as the days he was harshly beating me.  Nonetheless, in spite of the maltreatment at the hands of my parents, I respected the role they had in my life. Exodus 20:12 NKJ “Honor your father and mother, that your days may be long upon the land…”

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