Rain

You know.. blogs never happen how you think they will.. Atleast not with me. I have all these catchy blog titles in my head, and things I want to write about, and I never do and then voila! It hits me! I need to write, or I'll either wither or explode.
I'm laying here staring at the ceiling, as my husband sleeps that happy-man kind of sleep beside me. And I can't close my eyes, but to blink for a second. I can't get my mind off of this little girl I met today, a new client. I can't stop thinking about the way this tween bounced on the couch when we came in and she asked us "what we wanted to know".. and then how the terror poured out of her mouth, when she started talking. The hurt, the violence, the fear inflicted on her by her mother. Her visions, are seemingly now my visions, as I lay here awake and stare at the ceiling. I can't stop thinking about when her chin started to quiver, and I knew there was so much hurt inside of her, its like I could see her face turn white/gray/dark. And I can't stop thinking how I had no words.. yeah, me, no words... there was not a single word I could offer her, besides "I'm sorry, you've had to go through this" as I was leaving.
She shook my hand when I was walking towards the foyer, she looked out the window, and she said, "Oh no, its going to rain.. ya know, my middle name is Rain". And I said, yes I know and asked how she got it. Her father who was there with us also, said "I just always liked the rain, its cleansing... I wanted to marry her mother in the rain, and so we named her rain..."
And now, as I lay hear thinking through all this, I think of this couple, getting married in the rain and how beautiful and romantic. And this little baby they named after their romance. And it humbles me incredibly. Because my first reaction, as many of my first reactions are, was to find this woman myself and seek some justice. But this little girl wasn't always this way, and her mother wasn't always that way, and that made me think.. wow... there's no telling it couldn't be me, or some one close to me, today, tomorrow, or twenty years from now.
Now, here's where you probably are going to think I'm cracked.. but, for the most part, people aren't born child abusers. On the way out to see this client, I was griping to my mom about this visit, and she said to me, almost prophetically "ya know, hurt people, hurt people". And I think about that now, and it stops me from grabbing my pitchfork and calling together all the village people and finding this woman who abused her daughter. Because I know there was happiness, and that hurting some one doesn't come out of nothing. And it could  as easily have been me, had i been hurt, left, abandoned, betrayed, impoverished, disowned, unloved, humiliated, or broken in any other way.
Now, please don't think I'm excusing this woman's actions. I am just acknowledging that nothing is ever as it seems, and for every action there is a reaction, and in this case I would say for every reaction there's a former action. It does me no good, and my client no good, whatsoever, to stew over the evilness of someone. After all, its not my justice to be had. I have to move from my passion, to my compassion. And pray, for rain.