The Clothesline Project

So my daughter, Ashli, works at a residential treatment center for young men ages 12-18. It has profoundly changed her life, and consequently, mine. She has learned communication and coping skills that have made the past year not only bearable, but ultimately beautiful for me. Tonight she asked me to go with her to see the display of "The Clothesline Project" at UVU in Orem. I would be missing a math quiz at college, but hearing her describe the display, I knew it would be well worth it.

And it was.

Victims of violence, emotional and sexual abuse write or paint on t-shirts, saying whatever it is they want to say. Some of the shirts are pretty raw and painful to read. Some of them I actually couldn't read. The organizers don't censor the shirts at all, and you don't exactly leave the event with a warm, fuzzy feeling.

Someone had made a shirt for Lori Hacking, with a tiny little onesie attached to the larger t-shirt. That one was pretty powerful.

I didn't start to cry until "Rockit", the secretary of the Central Utah chapter of BACA, started speaking at the podium. She described a time when her BACA chapter was in court with a 5 year old girl. She was afraid to walk down the hall to the bathroom because her father was seated in the hallway. So the bikers formed a circle around her and escorted her down the hall. I cried when I heard that. Every child needs a circle around them. Every child needs to feel safe. Far, far too many are not safe, not loved, not protected. It is impossible for me to articulate everything I felt as I looked at the hundreds of t-shirts on display. I only know that I was there for a reason. The things that have occurred in my life have occurred for a reason and I can't stop thinking about this tonight. Everyone we meet is fighting some kind of battle.

I must find a way to make a difference for someone in some small way every day.

SO many people have made a difference for me this past year.

Ashli and Mack insisted that I move in with them exactly a year ago this week.

Instead of me sitting alone in my apartment crying every single night.

They brought me back to life.

It wasn't easy for them. To have mom living there. Crying every single night. But they did it anyway.

Tami listened to me cry any time I needed to. No matter what time of the day or night. Jeanie sent me flowers on a particularly rough day.

Steve and Bob flirted with me and made me feel like a girl again.

Lisa checked up on me via text, facebook message or blog comment to make sure I was doing ok.

Grandma sent me money.

The list goes on and on.

I thought my life was over.

And I had a circle around me making damn sure that it wasn't.

I didn't really have that when I was younger.

I'm glad I have it now.

And I hope I can be in someone's circle when they really need it.