I am not a “sit down and accept what everyone else says” kind of gal.  I have a memory of sitting on the wood stairs to our basement in my little girl home.  We lived in this great neighborhood.  Full of kids and safe and fun to ride bikes and scooters, to build forts and swim in the neighborhood pool.  Looking back as an adult, I realize that some families were really well off and some families were just average middle-class.  I don’t remember ever being offered drugs or being lured into a pedophile’s house.  No, what I dealt with was just childhood drama.  I had a great friend (a boy) who lived across the street from me for the first 2 or 3 years and then he and his family moved away.  That was a loss, but I don’t remember being too terribly crushed. I wrecked a scooter in front of the most popular, cutest guys when I was in 6th grade. That was harder.  What really sticks out in my mind from those years was the reality of abuse that I had to accept.  Not to me, although I am sure, at times that I would have considered having to vacuum before I went to the pool, or not wear make-up a form of abuse.  No, this was real, and it really instilled a fire in me, or rather God used the experiences to spark the blaze.  On those wood stairs, a girl who lived two houses away told me how her mom would throw things at her, lamps, toys, whatever.  She would yell and hit her.  We were probably about 11 or 12.  I had been her neighbor for almost 4 years and she and I would argue and disagree and then like each other the next day. I knew, though, that she was telling the truth.  She was genuine in her fear and there had been several times when I had gone to her house and could hear her mom ranting, before I had even rung the doorbell. I had it all worked out, she was going to move in with us, my parent’s were going to call the police, her mom would go to jail for this injustice.  But then there was the small issue of the grown-ups who were actually in charge. I can’t remember exactly what my parents said, but it wasn’t in line with my plan at all.  In fact, it was more like, we stay out of other people’s business. I was in shock and I am sure hounded them for days or weeks about it but my friend never moved in and her mom never went to jail.  That helpless feeling was frustrating and overwhelming. Real life is not like the books and movies.  This was not an after school special with a happy ending.  It was a different time and my parents made the decision they thought was best.  But I wonder, what would have happened? If we had really confronted them? I think, too many times in life, people just shut-up and turn their heads. Whether it’s your neighbor or your friend or your family.  Why do we do this? Is it because we make so many mistakes ourselves? We don’t want to be seen as judgemental or nosy?  People act like their is so much gray area in life. There isn’t. We get in trouble when we start to compromise.  I am a Christian so I have the benefit of the Bible to help sort this all out.  A sin is always a sin and a wrong is always wrong.