That Kid

Tonight, I saw "that kid."
You know the one.

Just a note to say, this guy ISN'T "that kid."

He just humored me with a picture.

The kid with hair in his eyes.
The kid who is late to class. Every day.
The kid who vandalized the bathroom.
The kid who completes no work.
Occasionally he turns in something with profanity or a vulgar picture on it,
just to keep you guessing.


The kid who laughs as he bullies another student.
The kid who claims his goal is to get suspended.
The kid who, by this time of year, is REALLY hard to have in class.
You're tired.
And this kid has never tried.
And it is really really hard to keep looking for good.
To give him a fresh start every day.

I saw THAT kid tonight.

Except that he was a man.
And he had a job that he was doing well.
And his hair was cut neatly.
And he made eye contact and spoke politely.


And he wasn't using his kid nickname any more. He had a man's name.
And I had to ask him, because I just wasn't sure: "Are you THAT kid?!?!"


And he was someone who looked successful. And happy. And different.
I saw that kid tonight, friends, and I remembered the hours you and I put into him.

I remembered the meetings.
The frustration.
The sheer annoyance.
The desire to give up. 
But we didn't. Even when he pushed hard against us, daring us to give up.
We didn't.
We did our jobs.
We tried new tricks.
We supported each other.
We kept on.
And we told that kid, "You matter."

And somehow, somewhere along the line, something worked. 
Because I saw that kid.
And he's a man you'd be proud of.

It's May.
And it's hard.
And that kid is making you crazy.
And it would be so much easier to throw in the towel.
Don't.


That kid needs you.
And what you are doing is important.
And someday you'll be blessed to see him as an adult and it will be AWESOME.
You've got this.
You are exactly what that kid needs.
You. Are. Exactly. What. He. Needs.

Why #Imwithyou

By now you may have seen my Facebook post, in which I share the victim's statement I read on behalf of my daughter back in March.  Despite being longer than a typical social media story, the post was shared 250 times by people all over the United States.  We know, based on the comments on the post itself, messages we received from moms and young girls in similar situations, and the number of people who unfriended and blocked me on social media, that we struck a nerve.

If you don't have time to read the statement now, here's a two sentence summary:  In August of 2015 our daughter was the victim of a felony sex crime in which two local young men planned and succeeded in filming, and then sharing, her having sex with one of them without her knowledge or consent.  In an effort to support the young men following their arrest, many in our community openly attacked and slandered our daughter, creating a huge fallout for her.

I said in those very first days that our goal was to make our daughter the #verylastgirl that this kind of thing happens to, and I intend work hard towards that end.  It's annoyed a bunch of people in my life.  Some of them think that we are lying (which is crazy because our account is based completely on police reports, not our daughter's account).  Some of them think we're overdoing it, and that we should let the matter drop so the young men can get on with their lives (which is crazy, because we've gone above and beyond to protect their identities when they made sure that everyone who saw the videos knew it was my daughter).  Some of them still believe my daughter was at fault (which is just plain crazy).

People have asked me recently WHY I'm insisting on keeping this *incident* in the front of people's minds.  I thought I'd use my new blog to explain.

#Imwithyou because JUST A COUPLE WEEKS AGO my daughter lamented to me that she'll never be able to run for public office.  Even though the young men assured us and the court it wasn't uploaded to any websites, there's no way to verify that.  And since they lied about basically every other part of the story at some point, we have no reason to believe them.  Really, the running for public office worry is a symbol for all the worries my daughter has related to this crime.

#Imwithyou because of the young woman who messaged me, telling me a story that sounded too similar.  As she and her family attempted to stand up against a sex crime, they were outright attacked by her community.  Someone put barbed wire over their driveway.  She was assaulted in her school cafeteria.

#Imwithyou because even after hearing about my daughter's story, I learned that a young person close to me attempted to sexually exploit a young woman.

#Imwithyou because in the wake of a story coming out of Eugene, Oregon, in which THOUSANDS of sexually explicit photos were found in the possession of teen boys, the VERY FIRST social media responses I saw involved blaming the girls, claiming they weren't victims, and stating "boys will be boys."

#Imwithyou because of the young woman who messaged me, telling me she was raped and basically run out of town when her family tried to take a stand for her.

#Imwithyou because my daughter deserves more.  And so do the defendants' female teen family members.  And so does the little girl down the street.  Our girls deserve adults who will teach them they are precious and of great value and stand with them.

#Imwithyou because our boys deserve more.  They deserve adults who will TEACH them and hold them accountable and not chalk up harmful, disgusting, and  criminal behavior as "silly juvenile mistakes."

#Imwithyou because in response to a local peeping tom case, people LAUGHED.  They joked about it.  They made light of it because the girls "weren't raped," a sentiment that was also directed at my daughter.  No man, regardless of his age, should EVER feel entitled to view a woman's body without her full knowledge and consent.

#Imwithyou because of the young woman who went out of her way to attack my daughter following the crime.  In the process, she disclosed that she had also been the victim of a sex crime.  I can't help but wonder how things would have been different if she'd had adults standing with her and for her.

#Imwithyou because of the sweet sweet girl I know who was the victim of prolonged and horrific sexual abuse.  She did not choose to share her story--it was shared for her.  And while she tries to heal, she is openly attacked and blamed.  For her own abuse.

#Imwithyou because we've experienced firsthand what victim shaming looks like and feels like.  It's ugly.  And awful.  And absolutely not okay.

I'm with you.  I'm so with you.  I'll always be with you.

Whelp, That Didn't Work

Goats are notorious for escaping fences, and our goats are no exception.  Those darlings have four plus acres of great foraging options, but seem to prefer whatever's on the other side of the fence.  Since we've had goats, it has been a constant battle to keep them contained.  We're getting better at it--the escape routes are dwindling and the herd stays in more than out, but it requires time on our part to find and close up holes and weak areas of the fence.

A couple years ago, Micah and I were determined to end the escaping once and for all.  We walked the fence line with our supplies:  a bucket filled with fence nails, zip ties, wire, wire cutters, a hammer, and snacks.  (The snacks were particularly important.  One cannot mend fences without snacks.)  The goats followed along, looking panicked whenever we came to a spot they'd been escaping.

Using the supplies in our bucket, along with random sticks and some ingenuity, we patched the holes and gave each other high fives in congratulations.  The whole experience turned into an enjoyable mother-son bonding time, complete with snacks.

Our fixes worked!  For a little bit.  Soon after, we saw the hooligans shenaniganizing (I'm determined to make this a word!) outside of their approved boundaries.  "Whelp, that didn't work," we said to each other.  Out we went again, noting the NEW escape routes, repairing them using our sticks and wits, and enjoying snacks. 

And so it went.  We'd have days, or weeks, or (when we were lucky) months of contained goats, followed by escapee goats, followed by repair work by the "Sticks and Wits Fencing Company," followed by, "Whelp, that didn't work."

Today was another such day.  We walked the entire fence line and found two obvious escape routes.  We "repaired" them, congratulated each other, and headed inside.  Several hours later we had goats in our front yard. 

Some people might get angry and frustrated, but we've learned not to.  It's one of my favorite things about my kid and our relationship.  Through the Sticks and Wits Fencing Company, we've learned the value of hard work, that it can be fun, and that sometimes you've got to go back to the drawing board.  Maybe someday we'll have the muscle and money to install a proper goat-proof fence, but in the meantime, our sticks and wits seem to do the job well enough.

As for me, I'm enjoying time with my favorite guy.  It's remarkable, really, to watch a boy transform into a man, and I'm getting a front row seat.