Where the Path May Lead

For those of us on facebook, one of the biggest kicks is the ability to find friends from years past. Old childhood pals, who years ago might have been lost forever after life moves them apart, can once again reconnect, reliving those times when friendship was sweet and uncomplicated.

One such childhood friend and I found each other shortly after my facebook debut. I was so excited to hear from Alyson, a friend I met at church when I lived in Modesto, California during part of elementary and junior high school. Who knows what draws kids to one another and turns them into friends? I don't remember how exactly we became friends, but we did. And she was one of my favorites. We went to church together, but attended different schools, so we didn't see a whole lot of each other, yet still managed to become close. She was fun and enthusiastic, sensitive and imaginative. After I moved away to Clovis, we wrote one another once or twice with--you know-- a pen and paper, and even crossed paths briefly at BYU...her going, my coming I believe. I came to her wedding in Utah. She came to my reception a few days before giving birth to her first child. And then... nothing. We got caught up in our separate lives and lost track.

Ten years later...

(Enter the world's largest social networking site. Right? It's the only one I use, so I assume it's the biggest--but I could be wrong, I'm a 34-year-old housewife.)

...We found each other. And as we reconnected, she revealed to me some darkness from her childhood, of which I had been completely unaware. Beginning at the age of 9, she had been repeatedly and continuously sexually abused by her brother-in-law for 8 years, until she physically removed herself from the country (the country!) during high school. To say I was utterly dumbfounded doesn't begin to get close to how I felt. My little friend, that sweet innocent beautiful girl, was living this nightmare completely unbeknownst to me. My heart ached for her. It does now as I write this. I felt sorrow and fury and condemnation and guilt as I thought about her life over those years and how I was completely oblivious and happy and safe in my own home while she battled this monster in hers. I hoped I hadn't been insensitive. I hoped I had been kind when she needed kindness, silly when she needed silliness. I hoped we had had so much fun together that she was able to forget on occasion, just leave her burden for a few minutes and feel as happy as a child should.

My grown-up friend Alyson is an amazing person. She has a loving husband and four precious children. She is adventurous. She is a talented writer and photographer. She has an eye for beauty. And she has a voice. She's started a blog recording her pursuit of justice, her battle and her peace with her abuse. It's called ...leave a trail . I know my readership isn't very big, but I hope someone reading this will find a little more strength or a little more compassion from her words. I have.