This is for parents, grandparents, teachers, pastors, caregivers, people who come in contact with and love children.
Predators don’t wear flashing signs that declare their intentions. Predators don’t even have true criminal profiles. Once the profilers think they know who the predator is, something changes, and they have to change with it. That doesn’t mean the profilers are wrong. It just means the predators are very evil and always evolving.
Would it surprise you to know that predators can be in kindergarten? Or even in your child’s Sunday school class? Of course, these predators would never show up on the national or state registers that are easily accessible. These predators are usually protected by their families because they don’t want the local Child Protective Services to get involved. Usually there are other children in the family the parents don’t want to jeopardize losing.
Once the brain of a predator has been changed, they no longer think like your or me. Their main thought is control of a future victim, how that is going to be accomplished, and what they will do once they get control. If you think it’s any different because of their young age, you’re wrong.
Predators don’t care whether you are kind, compassionate, or understanding. They will use any virtue you have against you. You see, predators are quick to learn the soft spots - what you and I would call virtues.
In fact, predators thrive on our virtues. Why? Because the more virtuous we are the more inclined we are to give the predator a chance, an opportunity to be in our lives, to get close to the people we love.
Who do you love? Why your children of course. The predator has no interest in going after the adults in your life, just your children, the innocent ones who don’t have a voice yet, who don’t know how to verbalize what happens to them. The one’s who are too afraid to rationalize the threats from predators and process them into reality. That’s who the predators want.
I mentioned earlier that predators could be in kindergarten. It’s not as unbelievable as you might think. Actually, when a child has been incested or abused at a very early age, they are more prone to act out at an early age themselves. Kindergarten has a wealth of possible candidates. Playing “doctor” used to be considered a somewhat innocuous activity among children, not anymore.
In this age with all the technology available, it is so important we use wisdom and discernment when it comes to our children. It is more important than ever before that not only you know who your children’s friends are but also their parents.
It would appear that it is even possible when a child has been caught and convicted through the juvenile court and put on the registered sex offender list, that after a period of time, that same predator, due to the age, will be able to get off the list. Does that change the fact that she or he is still a predator? Of course not. It just means the predator can offend under the cloak of the law until they are caught once again.
Here are some links to get you started:
www.missingkids.com
www.ice.gov
www.fbi.gov/hq/cid/cac/states.htm
Saturday, February 02, 2008
So Who Knew the Mind Was the First Thing to Go?
There comes a time in every one's life when they begin to realize that the gray in their hair, and the wrinkles on their faces are not just the result of sleeping on a bad mattress. Indeed, the aging process has begun to catch up.
For me, the realization was not so subtle. Mind you, I am 48 and while most people think I am in my 30's, I have always been aware of the changes in my body. A muscle that used to be flexible, no longer is; a joint that bent freely, now slows with arthritis. Aging happens, sometimes gracefully, sometimes not so kindly.
Remember the week when all my technological conveniences began to crash, one by one? Well, I didn't tell you everything. I had a muscle crash. No, not literally, but it was a crash all the same.
I'm going to tell you my secret, but you must not tell my neighbors. They already think I'm a little ... different.
It was a Saturday evening when my son and I, and one of his friends, had returned from being out. Our arms were full of McDonald's 42 cent drinks, a bag or two of groceries, and of course my portable kitchen sink. Ladies, you and I both know that the older we get the more room we want in our purses. Though not to carry everything we can get our hands on from home, but more to have the room to bring home some special finds that we don't want to have to carry separately.
I digress. We alit from my van, I took the keys out to unlock the front door, realized I wanted to relieve my water challenged plants, and set my purse down on the front porch to keep it from getting wet and dirty. Heaven forbid something should happen to it.
My plants were thirstier than I realized, and the watering took longer than I intended. By the time all the pots were overflowing, my mind (remember the muscle crash) had taken a leave of absence.
I went inside, prepared dinner, worked on laundry, read the paper, and sat down to relax. Michael and his friend immersed themselves in the Nintendo, and didn't come out except to see if the friend could spend the night. Not a problem. We'd just drop him off on our way to church.
The sandman visited and soon we were all in la-la land. The morning came, and as we prepared to leave, I looked everywhere in the house for my purse. It wasn't where I normally left it, so I commissioned my son to begin a search. He's really good at finding things I lose. I stay in one spot and he finds and retrieves. Anyway, my purse was no where to be found.
I opened the front door to check the van and sitting right where I had left it -- in full view of the street, was my purse. It had been light outside for several hours. It was a wonder that no one had taken it, because I would never have known.
This is where God takes care of those of us who are farther along in the aging process than we realized. My wallet, my money, credit cards, everything was just as I had left it. There must have been angels slapping their knees with amusement when they saw my folly.
Have you ever gone to bed and left the keys in the front door lock? Me too!, and more times than I care to share. But this time, leaving my purse on the porch over night was more than I could gracefully accept. The brain had drained, and needed to be renewed. If anyone out there knows of technological advances that take care of drained brains, please let me know. I don't think the angels would be so amused a second time.
For me, the realization was not so subtle. Mind you, I am 48 and while most people think I am in my 30's, I have always been aware of the changes in my body. A muscle that used to be flexible, no longer is; a joint that bent freely, now slows with arthritis. Aging happens, sometimes gracefully, sometimes not so kindly.
Remember the week when all my technological conveniences began to crash, one by one? Well, I didn't tell you everything. I had a muscle crash. No, not literally, but it was a crash all the same.
I'm going to tell you my secret, but you must not tell my neighbors. They already think I'm a little ... different.
It was a Saturday evening when my son and I, and one of his friends, had returned from being out. Our arms were full of McDonald's 42 cent drinks, a bag or two of groceries, and of course my portable kitchen sink. Ladies, you and I both know that the older we get the more room we want in our purses. Though not to carry everything we can get our hands on from home, but more to have the room to bring home some special finds that we don't want to have to carry separately.
I digress. We alit from my van, I took the keys out to unlock the front door, realized I wanted to relieve my water challenged plants, and set my purse down on the front porch to keep it from getting wet and dirty. Heaven forbid something should happen to it.
My plants were thirstier than I realized, and the watering took longer than I intended. By the time all the pots were overflowing, my mind (remember the muscle crash) had taken a leave of absence.
I went inside, prepared dinner, worked on laundry, read the paper, and sat down to relax. Michael and his friend immersed themselves in the Nintendo, and didn't come out except to see if the friend could spend the night. Not a problem. We'd just drop him off on our way to church.
The sandman visited and soon we were all in la-la land. The morning came, and as we prepared to leave, I looked everywhere in the house for my purse. It wasn't where I normally left it, so I commissioned my son to begin a search. He's really good at finding things I lose. I stay in one spot and he finds and retrieves. Anyway, my purse was no where to be found.
I opened the front door to check the van and sitting right where I had left it -- in full view of the street, was my purse. It had been light outside for several hours. It was a wonder that no one had taken it, because I would never have known.
This is where God takes care of those of us who are farther along in the aging process than we realized. My wallet, my money, credit cards, everything was just as I had left it. There must have been angels slapping their knees with amusement when they saw my folly.
Have you ever gone to bed and left the keys in the front door lock? Me too!, and more times than I care to share. But this time, leaving my purse on the porch over night was more than I could gracefully accept. The brain had drained, and needed to be renewed. If anyone out there knows of technological advances that take care of drained brains, please let me know. I don't think the angels would be so amused a second time.
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