They Don't Tell

1. My Story

For the Lord God will help me, therefore shall I not be confounded; therefore have I set my face like a flint, and I know that I shall not be ashamed. Isaiah 50:7 (KJV)

I am a mother, and my daughter, my baby, my precious, precious daughter, whom I love more than life itself, was sexually violated. She was used, abused, mistreated and had her innocence stolen from her while she was still a very little girl. She was only in the second grade when the abuse began, and it continued throughout her elementary and middle school years.

The Silent Crime. That’s what sexual abuse is. It is the one crime in which criminals and victims individually and collectively keep silent, albeit for totally separate reasons, and it is this silence that perpetuates a world of abuse just waiting for the next victim.

What this book is not: This is not Nikki’s story. This is my story. It is not an expose’ of the abuse my daughter suffered. This is my story. This is my perspective, written from a mother’s eyes, from a mother’s viewpoint. I am not attempting in any way to put a voice to what my daughter went through. That is her story to tell, if and when she ever decides to do so.

Instead, I am putting voice to the heartache, the pain, the anguish, the shame, the hurt, the anger, the sheer rage, and the utter disgust I felt and still feel. I am putting voice to the utter disbelief that I, as a mother, experienced. I could not have known. How could I have brought the devil himself into my home to abuse my daughter?

How could I have been intimate with the same man who, with every chance he had, was abusing my daughter? How could this man who appeared to love me and my children introduce my pure and innocent, loving and accepting daughter to his perversion of sex? How could this man who played the organ in our church every Sunday morning fondle my baby and have her fondle him with every opportunity he could find?

I can’t begin to tell you, to express to you, what the realization that I had been somehow oblivious to this abuse was like. There are no words. I tried to wrap my mind around it. I went into a place within myself I’ve never been before and have not been since. It was like a boxer going to his trainer’s corner to develop their strategy for the next round. Because the truth of the matter is that is exactly what was taking place. Only my fight was not in the ring, and it was not natural. It was spiritual.

You see, I had taken an upper cut. I had been blindsided. I was on the mat and down for the count. Truly, the devil had his arms raised in victory, doing his victory dance all around me while I had a concussion and was in a daze. The cartoon stars were circling around my head, and the referee was giving me the final countdown as I tried desperately to figure out who I was, where I was, and what had just happened. I pinched myself, asking if this could be real. I couldn’t sleep. I definitely couldn’t eat. I went on a complete fast, no food or water for three days, knowing that the LORD was the only one who could help me now.

I did the only thing I could think to do. I hunkered down, called on a few prayer warriors and my pastor, and I went to see where I might possibly go from here.

Oh, sure, I still walked around in my body. I smiled and dutifully said all the right things. As a mother should, I told my daughter how everything was going to be all right, but I wasn’t really present. I felt like an absolute zombie. I was the walking dead, walking around with nothing on the inside. I felt empty, no soul and no life. I had nothing. I felt nothing. My daughter had been raped over and over and over in her home, in the one place that was supposed to be safe. I thought this man was looking out for her! I thought he was protecting us both when, in fact, he was grooming us both, just so he could use her!

How low, I wanted to know, can a human being be? How filthy and how disgusting can a human being be?

And consider this. There is no way that a forty three-year-old man decides for the first time in his life that he wants to molest a little girl. He must have done this before. I simply had not known. I never would have married this man had I known his background. Sadly, frustratingly, maddeningly, somebody knew something. But no one spoke up. So my daughter and I each became another one of his victims. The silent crime struck again. Again I say that this is a crime in which the perpetrator and the victim both are silent, albeit for totally different reasons, paving the way for the perpetrator to move on to his next victim.

Prayer for the Author

Father God, I come before you right now asking that you cover me, even as I write this book, cover me as it goes out. God, don’t let the enemy come in and make me ashamed that I’ve opened up and shared with these your women, mothers, daughters, people. I’ve done, O God, what you required of me, and I’ve done it willingly with a willing heart.

I pray right now God that you cover me, that you send your angels, God, to go before me and that you’ve made a crooked way straight. I just ask right now that you bless your servant, and that there will be no backlash from the enemy. You said in Proverbs the blessings of the Lord maketh rich and he addeth no sorrow. This is your servant’s prayer in Jesus’s name I pray. Amen

2. Nikki Nicole

But my horn (emblem of excessive strength and stately grace) You have exalted like that of a wild ox; I am anointed with fresh oil. Psalm 92:10 (AMP)

Nikki Nicole. That is the name her father wanted to give her, and I objected, Tyrone you can’t give her two first names! I remember saying to him, so he relented and finally we settled on Nicole. We would nickname her Nikki.

Nikki is a kind, sweet, and gentle soul. She has a quiet personality, and she is very helpful. She has a positive attitude about life, and she has a unique wisdom that lets her see both sides of a situation.

Nikki is also a people-pleaser. She wants to satisfy others even if pleasing them is to her own detriment. She will do whatever it takes to keep the peace, taking a back seat to everyone else, with her own needs unmet. As long as those she’s around are satisfied, she’s happy. Her satisfaction comes from seeing others having what they want and need. She has very much the heart of a servant. Her joy comes from seeing your joy.

I’ve always known this about my daughter, and my concern was always that she have her own voice. I knew she needed to learn to speak up for herself, which was very difficult for her. I knew it, and yet I didn’t really realize the extent to which she took that backseat. I didn’t understand that she was SO giving that she would let others steal from her. I didn’t realize she would allow a man to take from her what she had every right to keep for herself.

It was my job to teach her to do that, to teach her to stand up for herself, to teach her that she had every right to speak out. I did not do my job.

My dear, sweet daughter had been manipulated. Her innocence and pure love for others was twisted and used against her by her stepfather. That beast of a man took both the innocence and the loving kindness of a little girl and used them for his own prurient intent.

Every Sunday morning as I sat in church, I felt as though I was going through delivery. I would sit and feel the pain in my lower abdomen. Every Sunday just like clockwork, the labor pains would begin. I would get in the position and bear down until my insides, my inner being, could begin to feel relief from the devastation. It took great strength for me to deliver this baby, Sunday after Sunday.

For an entire year I went through these labor pains. Sunday mornings at church became my time and place of healing. These mornings became my release. My dear church family was there with me as the pains would come, and I would cry out in agony. They were there, Sunday after Sunday, as the tears streamed down my face. The ushers at my church were very kind. They thoughtfully had tissues always at the ready, and as I would bear down in pain, they would make sure I had something to wipe away my tears.

Isaiah 66:9 (ESV) says, Shall I bring to the point of birth, and not cause to bring forth? I’ll never forget the Sunday my pastor preached on this topic. I knew that neither God, nor I would leave this work unfinished. I knew the frustration, the pain and the anguish had to end and that there had to be some hope of our lives being restored.

I knew it was time once again for me to assume the position and bear down in Spirit. This baby had to be delivered. I could no longer hold this pain; it had to be released. I had to be set free from this suffering. I knew I needed the strength it takes for a woman about to bring forth a new life into the world. It takes strength for her to deliver.

Prayer for Nikki

Father God, we come before you know with a prayer request specifically for Nikki. Father, I thank you for my daughter. I thank you for your covering of her. I also thank you that she has given me a reason to press on, to push forward. Lord, she makes me want to be a better person. I thank you for the heart that you’ve placed in her. Lord, I thank you that she still encourages me!

I’m truly amazed at how excited she was when I told her about this book for the mothers. I thank you that she no longer walks in fear, shame, guilt, hurt, or pain. I thank you, for your word will not return to you void, for surely you have restored her as you spoke to me. I wish for every mother to be able to say the same for their daughter. This is my prayer in Jesus’s name. Amen.

3. Last Quiet Moments

My grace is sufficient for you, for my strength is made perfect in weakness 2 Corinthians 12:9 (KJV)

It was the Sunday after Thanksgiving in 2006. I was in the kitchen cleaning up, and my youngest son Jordan, was in the living room watching TV. These were the last quiet moments at the end of an uneventful Thanksgiving weekend before we went back to our weekday routines. I was teaching at a Detroit public school, Nikki was in the tenth grade, and Jordan was in the seventh grade. He was not very interested in academics, but he was getting by.

We were settling in to our new normal. I have three children. Jared is the eldest, now grown on his own and living in Maryland. Nikki came seven years later when I married her father and Jordan, my youngest son, came along a couple of years later.

I had finally gotten my ex-husband, Jack Reiss, whom I would later come to know as the perpetrator, to leave our home. He had, until this time, refused to leave and had moved out only after a long court battle that had lasted an entire summer. In the end, he had relented, and our divorce became final in September. My divorce lawyer later told me that the divorce lasted so long because Jack was determined to continue to control me.

I had lost my father on July 2 of that year. We had lost one of our beloved aunts in March; and one of my best friends in May. The year 2006 was a uniquely unhappy and busy year for us.

As I put the dishes away, my daughter, Nikki walked up to me and said, Mom if I told you something…would you be a mom, or would you be a friend?

Her question hit a nerve within me. I knew I had heard that phrase from her before. You see, Nikki and I have always been very close. She has always talked to me. She has always known she could come to me. The minute I heard her say those words, I knew something was going on. My heart sank in the way that only a mother’s heart sinks when she knows that something isn’t right with her child.

I looked at her, at how timidly she stood before me, and I knew immediately that we had to talk, that whatever she had to say was not good. I went into the front room where Jordan was watching TV and told him that Nikki and I were going upstairs. I told him we were not to be disturbed.

When we went into my bedroom, I knew immediately that I would not allow either of us to come out of that room until she told me what was on her mind.

A Prayer for Grace

Father God, I pray right now, because truly your grace is sufficient. God, not only was your grace sufficient for me as I went through this, but your grace is sufficient for every mother right now. I pray right now that each mother will pull on, call out for, reach out for, and come to the Throne of Grace where they can find help in this their time of need. Let them know you are there waiting with open arms for them. Let them know, O God, you have not forsaken them, you do not despise them, you have not forgotten them, they are not abandoned, they are not without hope and without you, all the things the enemy is whispering in their ear is a lie.

You are there for them in this difficult time in their life, if only they would lean on you as never before. They will surely come to the understanding of what your grace can do in them, through them, and for them. If they will hold on to you, the author and the finisher of their faith. This is my prayer for your mothers, in Jesus’s name. Amen.

4. Wouldn’t My Child Tell Me?

No one really knows what is going to happen; no one can predict the future. Ecclesiastes 10:14 (NLT)

Years ago, I listened to Bishop T.D. Jakes a great deal, in fact, I still do. He is a powerful speaker and his ability to teach the gospel is truly something exceptional. Though, I always found myself thinking, Why does he always talk about sexual abuse? I know it happens. I’m not unaware. My head is not buried in the sand. I know it happens everywhere but does it really happen that much? I mean, does it happen enough to warrant him talking about it ad nauseam? I mean, really? Does he have to reference it as much as he does?

In my mind, sexual abuse was something that happened to others. It happened in the big cities where crime runs rampant. It happened occasionally in the little towns where a junior league baseball coach was trusted a little too much. It happened in the