What do you do when you witness a parent treating a child in a manner that is at best, harsh and unhealthy, and at worst, emotionally abusive? (The severity of the parent's behavior depends on your perception, of course.)
The scene: a sunny Sunday afternoon at Adair Park, where the husband and I are stretched out under a grove of trees bordering the open field where pickup soccer games and kite flyers tend to gravitate. We enjoyed watching a sweet grandfather hitting a baseball to his two young grandsons. The kids obviously relished the attention from their grandpa, and he was loving giving it.
About an hour later, Grandpa comes back out on the field with the two boys, only this time they're accompanied by Dad. Dad first critiques Grandpa's pitching, at which point ol' Pappy retreats to the picnic shelter and leaves the game playing up to Dad. Dad, apparently needing a new target, begins criticizing the older son's catching, and my ears perked up when I heard the boy say, "Dad, I'm just playing! Please don't judge me! I just want to play!". Being a social worker, I can't help paying close attention to these verbal red flags of an underlying problem. Dad's response was, "yes, I'm judging your playing!". This boy, whose name was Caleb, couldn't have been more than five or six years old.
Dad then ignores the younger boy and instead focuses all of his attention on throwing and hitting to Caleb, and his comments continued to escalate. He was yelling at his son in the middle of the park and the comments only becamse angrier and nastier. Dad told Caleb that he was pitiful, that he was sick of his excuses about why he couldn't catch the ball, that he needed to own up to all of his failures, on and on and on. I can't even remember all of the things I heard this man say but they were so horrible that Don and I could not stop gasping at what this kid was being put through by his father. Caleb finally stopped protesting and just took it silently until Dad finished drilling him and had thoroughly sucked the joy from the kid's day and from his heart.
If this man had actually been cursing at his son, it would have been much easier to pick up the phone, get the cops to the park, and report this guy for abuse. But as the situation stood, I felt like my hands were tied. I couldn't call the police on them because it would look like I was simply a hysterical and meddling woman who didn't agree with Dad's parenting methods of trying to improve his son's game. I could not prove that any abuse had taken place, particularly since I did not hear profanities directed at the boy. The boy's mother and grandparents were also in the vicinity and were close enough to hear, although they weren't paying attention. Dad's behavior is not new, I'm certain... the family has to know how he is! Why, why, why doesn't someone in the family stand up for these kids?!?!
In hindsight, I could have tried to talk to the boy alone to find out how old he was and where he went to school, then maybe I could've called the school counselor or something. That didn't even cross my mind today, though.
I told Don that as a woman and a mother, I would never allow anyone, including him, to treat our children that way. If a man of mine abused me or the kids, then all bets are off, the marriage is over, and I'm never looking back (except to possibly hire a hit man to take him out). OK, just kidding about the hit man. Sorta. Let's just say Don wouldn't want to mess with me, and I'm 100% certain that I will never even have to worry about it.
Back to Caleb. I predict that this kid will turn out in one of three ways: he will become a convicted felon bent on rebellion, he will be a decent person but have severe emotional problems including estrangement and harboring intense hatred for both parents (Dad for the obvious and Mom for not protecting him), or he will turn out to be just like his father. I hope I'm wrong on all counts.
I pray that somewhere in the years to come, this kid meets Jesus and finds in his heavenly Father the love that his earthly father won't give. And I pray that the next time I encounter another little Caleb, that I will be more prepared and bold enough to make a difference in his life.
