Wednesday, December 31, 2008

The Risk of Caring

In my job I face many challenges. We deal with people who don’t like us and all their problems are our (law enforcements) fault, people who yell, curse, cry, weep, smoke, spit, smell, are intoxicated and/or high, and so on. We also deal with people who want help, are grateful and make my job seem easy. Believe it or not, I like both or I should say all. Each one is a challenge in one way or another. The more difficult, the more I work to prove myself and how I can help them whether they knew they wanted it or not. The easy ones, the more I am reminded why I love my job and this is why I do it.

But with every new case comes risk. I know, I know, I’m a Victim Advocate. What risks do I really face? You’re correct in that I probably don’t face any serious physical risks – too often. But there are risks in caring for a victim.

I have had three cases recently that remind me (which I think it’s good to be reminded – occasionally) I’m not invincible or untouchable. They are, of course, all domestic violence related. I cannot give details due to confidentiality, but what I can say is one case had me fear for my own safety and the other two have me in fear for the safety of my victims.

In the first case, I fought hard for the victims. Charges were changed from misdemeanor crimes to felony. I was and am proud that he will be held accountable on higher charges. Trust me – he deserves it. The risk for me in this case was the level of fear the victim has of her perpetrator. She could easily betray me to him as the one that “got him in trouble.” Of course, I didn’t do anything to get this idiot into trouble. He did that himself, but most perpetrators never see it that way. Now, I’ve done this type of thing for many of my victims, so what made this one different – the victim. This time I could actually see her betraying me. She is so childlike in her behavior and fear, and what do most children do if there is someone else to blame? Yep! “She made me do it. I didn’t want to.” To give you an idea of what I mean, the victim’s first question to me upon meeting was, and I quote, “What do you think my punishment will be when he gets out of jail?” Huh? I’m sorry, what? Her only concern was her punishment. (See, I told you, he deserved it.) This is a true victim of repeated domestic violence. For most of the rest of the world, that would not have been the first question asked. However, the more I talked with her, gave resources, and assistance, the more I realized she could turn on me. Now, it really isn’t often, if ever, that a victim advocate’s life is in danger (although we’ve had our share of threats). But this one made me pay attention. Thankfully, so far this victim is following through with leaving him and protecting herself and her children. This has taken a great deal of courage for her to step out on her own. I am proud of her and for her.

The next two cases hit me in one day. These two cases are probably why I’m writing this blog. In a way, it helps me to get it out and decompress. Like I mentioned, these are also domestic violence. One was severely strangled and both were threatened that their deaths were and are imminent. One was almost completed and the other is in great fear that it will be once the perpetrator is released on bail. I’ve never spoken with someone who had resigned themselves to their own death. It’s very un-nerving. The hardest part is not understanding why they aren’t fighting for their own life. But I guess that is what fear is sometimes – resignation. I’m hoping that I have done my job for these two victims. Granted, I know ultimately their safety is in their own hands.

Eventually I will face the death of a victim that I have worked with before. It is inevitable, I know. I’m just not sure what I will do with it once it happens. You see, I’m not untouchable or hard - jaded, yes. In fact, even though I’ve not faced it, I know it will be difficult.

In law enforcement, in general, there is a lot of role playing. Some of it is external for training purposes and some is internal. Unless the role player voices it, those are never known except to the individual. I’ve role played how these events could play out on my end. I dare not put myself in the role of the victim – talk about issues. But what could it look like if it happened while on call verses not on call. And so on. I know role playing is good for training, but I find myself wondering do we do it for ourselves as a self preservation. Meaning, does it make the impact or shock any less when I hear the news? I dunno. I think either way, it will be hard to know that you fought to help someone who needed it or can’t help themselves yet, and it failed them – the system, safety measures, etc.

I spend a lot of time with some victims, especially if the case is severe. You do begin to care for them – not all, I’ll admit, but you still care for the human life that has been so beaten and battered either by another or the choices they themselves have made.

I received two panicked phone calls from these victims, and all I ultimately could do was my job – safety and security, vent and validate, and prepare and predict. After I hung up with them, I found myself with my head on my desk praying for them. I know I should pray for all my victims and I do pretty well and then sometimes I’m praying they get out of my office or off my phone. (just being honest) ;-) But I spent a while praying for them and their families. I often forget about that ripple effect, but it’s there – always.

I do pray for these women. I pray that God protects them but also urges them to use the brains He gave them. May God always protect them and be their peace.

(I have to post this because it's funny. But speaking of peace and victims that are afraid they are going to die. I actually told one that for the next 24 hours (due to offender being in jail) to "rest in peace." Opps. What would Froyd say? But I laughed at myself after I hung up the phone.)

Tuesday, December 9, 2008

Personal Ramblings on The Shack

I've been asking many of my friends lately if they have read the book, The Shack, yet. Most have not but want to. I have read it and look forward to reading it again now that I know how the 'story' ends. There is alot to take in and process, and it is that information that requires another read. If you can't tell, I highly recommend the book. Here are my ramblings.

I love the book in that it shows what I do believe to be the heart of God - relationship with His children. The author tells and reveals an amazing relationship with God/Papa and Nan and the development of one between God and Mac. All throughout the story, you can see the pursuit of God with Mac and Mac with God. It is done with such patience and gentility but at the same time God is still God and doesn't let Mac get away with easy sarkasim, anger, questions or comebacks. The innerchange between Papa/Jesus/Sarayu (I think this is the name for the Holy Spirit used in the book) and Mac is so well written. He's not allowed to just think his thoughts (even though God knows them), but he has to voice them out loud and let them be heard. I like that. There is power in putting our thoughts into spoken words - good and bad. Mac's are finally spoken and answered without judgment! How wonderful that would be, eh, to not be judged for voicing questions, doubts or fears?

What if I could meet God at the Shack? Would I even believe my own experience? There is so much "evidence" (and I use that word losely) that says if you experience this or that, no you really didn't it was just something else. Nice and clear, I know.

But here's a story for an example, I had an experience that happened one night in Dallas. I choose not to go in to detail beyond what you need to understand my point. Anyway, one night I awaken to not being able to move any part of my body, my eyes are open and I can see and I can hear. What I'm not sharing with you is what I saw or heard. But from this experience, I've been told I was still asleep - somewhere between dreaming and awake and in this place we have that sense of being awake and yet unable to move. Science has proven this, however, it has not proven that voices or visions are a part of that state of being nor pain, nor destroyed property that was not apart of me. You read correctly - I had property destroyed and moved because of a dream - at least according to science. In this case, science is lacking - greatly.

But back to my question, would I believe it? I ask this because I had well meaning friends and strangers comment on my experience as I shared it (more freely than I do today - wonder why?) and was basically told I had a bad dream. It made me question my own experience and worse doubt it. This is one of the problems I see with today - we do not trust our own experiences because they are not tangible or testable by science. But this is another soap box for another day. I digress.

I hope I would believe such an experience as I still do the one I just mentioned. You see, I can understand what is being explained to me about science and dream states, but what no one else can understand is what happened to me that night. I know I will not be able to tell my story and have someone understand completely or even believe me, but it doesn't change the reality of the event.

Then what would I ask or say or do? I guess it depends on the day and the hour. Today, I would probably yell that I don't understand. I don't understand so much hatred for Christ as His is a message of Love - the Ultimate Gift. I don't understand why He made it so hard to believe. I don't understand why love is suppose to be enough but all too often isn't. I don't understand why one person can see Truth and believe and why another is blinded. I don't understand why we're asked to love when the potential and probability of return is pain. I don't understand how He could do all that He's done for this world knowing it would reject Him, hurt Him, abuse Him and turn Him away. He could have made a world that loved Him, accepted Him and worshiped Him. Or even a world where the statement, "all paths lead to the same place" is true and there would be no division over who was right or wrong. I don't understand. Today, these are my yellings.

I'm sure tomorrow will be different. There is alot I don't understand. And yet peace that I don't have to know or understand everything. I'm not saying I have peace in the not knowing/understanding, but that it's not mine to figure out. I have been called to love God with all that I am and (was reminded this morning) my neighbors too. That is my goal - I'm not there yet by any means and may never be fully this side of heaven, but I can keep trying.

I think I started this blog about a book. Ah, yes, The Shack. The book touches on some of what I'm rambling about and I want to really re-read it before I comment much more. I'm also hoping that someone will read the book and want to discuss it as much as I do. I know the blog has the potential of reaching someone who doesn't know me or live around me. Hey, I can type (obviously) and we can chat. I'd like that.


BTW - I'd love to meet God/Papa at the Shack and talk face to face and have the option of going home with Him or returning to this world. Hmm....there is an interesting question (for another day). Would you return or go home?

Friday, October 10, 2008

A Love So Deep

A call I went out on in the Spring was another DOA of an elderly woman. When I arrived, I entered the house to find her husband kneeling on the floor, where she had been laid, holding her hand. Normally, people, even family, are not allowed to sit with the body until after the coroner investigates. But this husband was not going to be removed - at any cost.
I don't speak French but I've heard enough of it through movies or other avenues to understand certain phrases. He kept stroking her hand repeating, "Mon Amour. Je vous aime. Je ne vous quitterai pas." Translation: My Love, I love you and I will not leave you." Over and over again I could hear these words.
I got him talking to me about his wife. They were from Belgium and met in the 20's. They married when she was only in her mid teens. She was a model and I got to see one of her pictures from her youth and none of our current models today could hold a candle to this lady! Gorgeous! He told me of his surprise that she married him, and they never spent a day apart.
I asked if they had any children to come and be with him, but they were never able to have kids. I then looked around the house and noticed various statues of Christ/Verses and asked if he wanted his pastor to be with him. He had already called him to come and be with 'them'.
We sat there with his wife as he would not leave her or close her eyes (very un-nerving, by the way). He wept as he told her that they promised to go together but she left him behind. They had been married so long, he was afraid to be without her.
Then he had to go to the bathroom. This is a first for me, because he then looked at me and asked me to hold her hand so she would not be alone. He said, "I know she's not your family, but would you please?" Uhh......"OoooohK." So he placed her hand in mine and told her he'd be right back and introduced me to her. I sat there on the floor, 9 months pregnant, holding a dead woman's hand. I had many thoughts at that moment, but the most amazing thing was finding myself talking to her. (I have to be honest, I didn't hold her hand the whole time.) I told her, "Sorry, but this is just a little creepy as you are staring at me and now I'm talking to you." I laid her hand down and watched for him to return so I could pick it back up and hold it. I found my peace doing this as I don't think she minded at that point. At least, I hope not.
The coroner arrived and had us leave the room as no family should ever watch that investigation - not pleasant, very clinical. His pastor had also arrived and they cried together. He was so worried that they would close her eyes and she'd be gone. We tried to prepare him for the inevitable closure and that she was already gone. He wasn't ready to hear/believe that.
What I didn't mention is this couple was maybe all of 5 feet in height. They were cute! I mention this because he was a lot taller in my book when I left. He stopped one of our deputies as he was leaving and said to him,"I know, Sir, that this is everyday life for you. You go from one call to the next and have become hardened to death. But for me this is not everyday and this was my wife, my Amour. I hope someday you learn more compassion. Thank you for coming and helping me today."
Sweet!! I say this because he's right and not only for this deputy. We do deal with death alot and become very 'immune' to it, so to speak. I do not know what happened to make him single this officer out, but I applaud his courage and honesty to speak so politely at a time like this in his life. It was a great reminder to me too. I do look at death very differently and have a very warped view. I'm very jaded.
I do not know what happened to him, but I could definitely see him truly dying of a broken heart. And if a person could die of a broken heart, I would imagine he'd want that as he would see her again.
The concept of heaven has so many different views, wishes, beliefs, etc. We weren't left with too many details. I love the song, "I Can Only Imagine." I know it centers around Christ and what will we do when we see Him, but I also can only imagine about loved ones, life, animals, and so much more. For example, will we remember from 'day to day'? Is there a day/night? Will we remember our loved ones from this earth? Will we know that some are missing? Some days I hope we are oblivious and we just sing and dance with abandonment.
Until the day that I get to know the answers to my questions, I keep looking at love so deep here in this life and imagine it only getting deeper, better and more wondrous in heaven. God protect our loved ones here and God speed the ones that have already gone before us.

Tuesday, October 7, 2008

Sweet Moments

I have to post this story because I love it. I got called to a DOA or unattended death where a 70+ year old male had died suddenly and unexpectedly. As I entered the home, the deputy stopped me because the family was praying. I stood and listened to their prayers and added my own. I was introduced to his sons and his wife, who was seated at the kitchen table. I knelt beside her and took her hand and told her I was sorry for her loss (the most inadequate words I've ever spoken). I didn't realize at the time I was to sit like that for the next 2 hours. She held my hand as if her life depended on it.
Her sons were grown and in their 50s. They tried to help their mom by telling her different things like, "God knows best." "Don't cry as God knows what He's doing." "Dad is in a better place, so we shouldn't cry for him." Now, I know that each one of those statements was to bring her comfort, but they didn't. (BTW - comments like these never bring peace to anyone.)
She told me that in two weeks they would have celebrated 50 years of marriage. They were looking forward to it. He was her only love. She'd never kissed another. Wow!
At every sentence her sons would say, she'd turn and stare so deeply into my eyes that tears stug the back of them. See, I can't join in their grief. For one thing, I'd never survive in this job if I did. The other is not to rob them of their grief and make them feel that they must rescue me. But I came close to tears with this sweet lady who just wanted to hold her husband one last time.
With each stare she'd grip my hand even harder (my ring was imprinted into my fingers for several hours after I left her). Her stare was soul searching. I've never experienced anything like it. When I left I gave her hug and left her with the words, "God knows your pain and He understands your tears. Don't hold them back. He too weeps with you and your pain. God bless and keep you." No one else heard my words to her. She still had my hand and I knew that as I spoke every bone was being broken by her attempt at self-control. She looked at me again and a tear fell down her face. She reluctently let go of my hand and I reluctently left.
I've never been on a call that touched me so deeply. I've never forgotten her face or her eyes. I've often wondered if I didn't get a glimpse of how intense the eyes of God are. I couldn't look away - I wanted to and yet I didn't. She could see to the very depths of my heart, and I hope she saw it breaking with hers - not to the same degree but breaking all the same.
This is where I love my job. Sounds crazy, huh?! But I do. I get to meet people, even the ones that are no longer living. I get the honor of hearing the stories of their loved one. I get to laugh with them, hold their hand, dry their tears, and intrude on one of life's most intimate moments and leave as quietly as I came. I love hearing the stories. They are powerful - especially to the ones left behind. It makes me cherish mine a little more every time. I'll never forget this lady or my time with her or what I felt.

Catching up with the world

Hello. Not sure anyone will even read this, but I just stumbled on this. I've read other people's blogs and my husband has wanted me to do this for a while. Who knows - maybe I'll find it interesting. Of course, I realize that my entries have to get more interesting than this. However, I do have to admit I don't trust writing stuff down for people to read. I have this horrifying nightmare that it comes back to haunt a person at the worst times. Hmm....this could be very interesting - an experiment of sorts. Well, I titled this correctly - ramblings!