This morning, I read the Foster Care Blog and saw that Bill wrote about Child Abuse Awareness Month that is coming up next month. Child abuse is such a heart wrenching topic, isn't it? Aren't our hearts just ripped right out of our chests when we read about, hear about, work with, treat, care for the children of abuse? Child abuse takes an incredible toll on our society at every level. It often feels like not enough can ever be done to make a significant impact on the problem.

There is a lot of discussion and action taken at the community, local, state and federal level to address the desperate needs of abused children. However, with the exception of arrest and conviction, much of the time the needs of the abusers get lost in the shuffle. Instead, they are relegated to the place where we believe they rightfully deserves to be, the bottom rung of society. But, like it or not, child abusers have needs. And like it or not, when we fail to address those needs, we fail to address the entire scope of child abuse.

I am going to go out on a limb here and challenge those of us who are connected to abused children-and in reality, that would be every single person on the planet--to say or do one thing, just one thing, that would demonstrate compassion for the abuser and compassion for the abuser's needs.

When I was in undergraduate school 31 years ago and a sophomore majoring in psychology, I was one of those students who asserted with the absolute and total conviction of the typical 19 year old that, "I will never work with people who physically abuse or sexually abuse their children." If I remain committed to honest writing, as I have claimed I will do, I think I recall ranting at times that "those people" should be "taken out back and shot like the dogs that they are!" Uh-huh. I said something like that. I'm sure of it. I probably threw in some salty swear words somewhere along the way. I'm pretty sure of that too.

I will now take the opportunity to blame that type of thinking on the fact that I was a)nineteen years old; and b)born and raised in Texas. I don't have an explanation for the swearing part. I still do that. Oh. Maybe I can blame that on being Texas bred and raised as well?

Fast forward 31 years. I have long since lost count of the number of physical abusers I have worked with that I have, in fact, successfully reunited with their children (after months and sometimes even years of intensive treatment) who have not gone on to commit another single act of abuse. During the holidays, I still get cards and letters from a handful of the families that I have helped to reunify. Some even send me their family Christmas letters every year. Whenever that happens I'm always amused. I mean do they sit down, make out their Christmas card list, and then think, "Oh yeah. Let's send one to Dr. Gray. You remember, that nice psychologist who taught us how to stop beating the hell out of you!"

Because sexual abuse is such an intractable disorder, I have never reunited a sexually abused child with the perpetrator. Never. But, I have worked separately with the abuser and the survivor and I have facilitated the abuser apologizing to the survivor, letting the survivor know that it was not his or her fault, and encouraging the survivor to learn to trust and love again.

I'm not exactly sure when I decided that my ability to have compassion for the abuser was critical to my ability to contribute to the healing process for the abused children I work with. I wish I could pinpoint the "a-ha" moment when that occurred, but I can't. Usually, I try to maintain a low profile with my perspective. I just quietly do the work the way I think it's supposed to be done if families that can be salvaged are to be salvaged.

I'm not sure why I've chosen the quiet path. Fear perhaps? I don't think advocating compassion for those who perpetrate physical or sexual abuse is very PC. But, maybe if I stop being so quiet about it and share my thoughts then others will join me, and together, we can make an impact on the entire problem of abuse and not just the one important piece involving the child.