This post is difficult to write, it will be the most difficult of all the posts I will write. And I think that's because I truly had no control over this situation and it has had the most prolonged impact on my life. I realize it may also be difficult for quite a few to read, so proceed with caution.
I graduated from high school in June of 2000 at the age of 17. I had a high gpa, score of 32 on the ACT, was set to attend Augustana College as a physics major in the fall, and was signed up for a missions trip to Venezuela. I enjoyed the few weeks between graduation and time to leave for my trip. The night before I left for Texas where I would receive the training I needed before going to Venezuela, the unthinkable happened. It started as a typical night, hanging out with a group of friends from church, including a boy I had been romantic with on and off. Looking back I can't even remember if we were really dating. As the night went on, we all hung out in the basement at my house where my parents had put a pool table, we had a dart board, and we had a tv with cable. Some friends left at various times, wishing me luck on the missions trip and reminding me they would be praying for me. The last person to leave was a boy, I didn't see this as a problem as we had spent countless hours together and were very close friends.
At some point we started kissing each other and he pushed it further. I pushed his hands away but he didn't seem to get it. I don't remember the details as luckily that has faded over the years. But that night, the purity I had worked through high school to preserve was taken from me. I was a physically strong, 17 year old girl but was no match for a 17 year old boy that had one thing on his mind. When he was done, he left. I walked him to the front door and locked it behind him. I was too shocked to do anything but go to sleep and not share with anyone. The next morning I got on a plane for Texas, reeling inside about how God could let this happen when I was giving him 10 days of my life to spread his word to another country.
Much of the missions trip ended up as a blur as I struggled inside my head with what was going on. In Texas we learned plays that we would perform in Venezuela. I met some awesome teens that were on fire for God, but just felt disconnected. I helped translate in the airport to get us to our destination without extra fees. I was doing a pretty good job of compartmentalizing and focusing on the goal at hand. The kids we came across were pretty cute and there was minimal downtime anyway. We did a lot of praying on the trip, but I felt quite distant from God. After 7 days in country, we returned to Texas for a debriefing and then I returned home to Chicago.
I returned home and shared everything about the trip with my friends at church, ignoring what had happened before I left. About a month later I packed up my life and my parents moved me in to Jenny Lind wing at Augustana College so I could participate in preseason for soccer. I met some great girls that I am still in contact with and tried to force myself to just be in the present. I thought I could stuff down what happened, that if I ignored it, it could be as though nothing really happened. But the fallout from this summer would last for years to come. And any time there are stories in the news about rape victims, everything comes flooding back. I never thought it could happen to me, and I certainly never thought it could happen in my own basement with my parents asleep 2 floors above. I have not decided when/how this will be shared with our children, but I know at some point I will share with them, especially my daughter. At the same time, this whole incident may be why I'm perfectly happy to have enough space in our house without finishing the basement.
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