Thank you Lincoln Parish for 30 years of helping us
As I write this column for Easter Sunday, the wind howls fiercely outside DART’s downtown office. Rain beats a dark tempo, and thunder rumbles an ominous warning. We have had many such storms this month, and I have driven through several of them, gripping the steering wheel with white-knuckled concentration as I try to see through blinding sheets of water.
Like many of you, I do not enjoy being out in weather like this. I have groaned in complaint when I’ve awakened to yet another gray and dismal day. But last Saturday, when the sky was a vivid robin’s egg blue and the sun sent bright beams of light to our yard, I walked around smiling. It was the very rain I had complained about that brought out the emerald leaves in our hydrangea bed, the pale green blooms on my snowball tree, and the rich yellow blanket of lady banks roses cascading down the trellis Sam Autrey built for me over 20 years ago.
Isn’t this what spring is all about? We have endured the icy freezes and gazed out at the dead brown land of winter for months now. Some things we planted did not make it through the harsh cold, but others remained cocooned until the warmer temperatures, the sun, and yes, the rain, did their work. And now look. The bright promise of spring sings a song of renewal all around us.
Thirty years ago this month, DART opened its doors to offer a chance for the bright hope of change and restoration to families who had been bruised and broken down by domestic violence.
Those families had lived through many a “dark night of the soul” in the words of Holocaust survivor Elie Wiesel. They had endured black eyes and broken bones. Their children had cowered in terror. They had been afraid to make a change, believing that they could never get away safely, or even if they did, they couldn’t make it on their own.
Their abusers had convinced them that they deserved the treatment they were getting. Sometimes friends of those victims had urged them to stay and keep trying to make it work, but in other situations loved ones gave up on them for not leaving, or for going back to their abusers.
When these abuse victims heard that help was available, that it was free and confidential, and that they could be safe while they did the hard work of recovering from their trauma and preparing for a better life, they began to come to DART. They began to believe in a future that was better, for themselves and for their children. People stepped up alongside DART to help.
Some answered the crisis line, others transported survivors to court, to job interviews, or to look at apartments or houses to rent. Others offered counseling or emotional support. Still others taught parenting classes, or brought bedding, furniture, and food to help those who were moving into their new homes. It has taken an entire community to do the work that a handful of people started three decades ago, but today DART has helped thousands of people to break free of control and abuse, and start new lives of partnership, friendship, and renewal.
For that, we give thanks for the truth that Elie Wiesel wrote about after surviving unspeakable abuse: “Just as despair can come to one only from other human beings, hope, too, can be given to one only by other human beings.”
As we have endured the storms of March and can now walk in the sunlight of spring, those served by DART can find hope even when the darkness of abuse has left them in fear and pain. We thank all of those who have helped us give that hope to families throughout the past 30 years.
