Lessons From The "Big Easy"

I viewed the cityscape from the window of the airport shuttle. So this is New Orleans. I thought. I'm not sure what I expected, but other than an occasional palm tree, it looked a lot like my own city of Philadelphia. The billboards that welcomed me, alternately one to my left and one to my right and so on, boasted of an irony I couldn't miss: I was visiting New Orleans to attend The National Conference on Child Sexual Abuse and Exploitation Prevention and my eyes were being assaulted by sexual images of women, who were once little girls, welcoming me to this club or that bar. And I wondered how many of my fellow conferees shared my observation.

Now don't get me wrong, I'm not a pessimist at heart. I was excited to experience the sights, sounds, and tastes of NOLA. And I did, once I got several miles from the airport.

The first day I ate so much gumbo and po-boy that I couldn't stuff in a beignet (Creole doughnut)--one of my goals. (I love pastries.) I strolled the streets of the French Quarter and saw soulful musicians, sweat glistening, oblivious to the heat, their music--their life. New Orleans was alive, and I was an enthusiastic student absorbing its rich culture. But the majority of my three day adventure was spent indoors absorbing all I could about the culture of childhood sexual abuse and exploitation.

I can't post all I learned in one blog post. The sights, emotions, and facts go on and on, and I'm wondering if my readers really want to know. (Please comment. I'd like to know.) It's a dark subject and for all my optimism, I can't make it light.

But here's some good news. I met a lot of amazing people who are on the front line in this battle. And yes, they shared my observation.

My sincere thanks for all the encouragement and prayers sent my way regarding this venture. I had peace each and every moment.

Leavin' On A Jet Plane

My bags aren't packed yet, but my anticipation is building. One week from today I plan to be in New Orleans doing something I've never done before: attending The National Conference on Preventing Childhood Sexual Abuse and Child Sex Trafficking. Think Forest Gump goes to Washington and you've got the idea of how I'm feeling about this venture.

So I'm asking you to pray for me as I battle all the lies that creep up in my head. The lies whisper, "What can one mom do to make a difference in the horrific world of sexual abuse and sex trafficking?", "This is just a waste of time.", and "What if your heart acts up on the plane (I have a heart that beats to its own rhythm at random times.)?" The lies can go on and on. And honestly, the lies can get my attention sometimes and if I'm not diligent in replacing them with truth, they will begin to consume my thinking. That's when I act like a crazy woman, hair standing on end, who's got one foot nailed to the floor and keeps running in circles. (Not a pretty picture. Just ask my husband. He's seen me this way.)

But pushing the fears and lies aside, I'm committed to boarding that plane next Tuesday. Why? Because the doors have opened for me to go and because in my heart I know I'm supposed to be there.

The truth is, childhood sexual abuse isn't going to go away. Yet, if I can learn one thing I can share with one parent or survivor that can make a difference in one child's or survivor's life, it will all be worth it.