By the time you finish reading this sentence, a woman has been assaulted and beaten. By the end of today, at least 4 of them will be dead. Each year, an estimated minimum of 3.3 million children witness domestic violence. These children are much more likely to develop drug and alcohol addictions, become juvenile delinquents and as adults become abusers themselves. By the age of 5, most children that grow up in homes where domestic violence occurs are demonstrating signs of abusive behavior.

More women suffer injuries from domestic abuse than from car accidents, mugging and rape combined. In the past five years, more women have died from domestic abuse then the number of Americans killed in the Vietnam War. 2/3 of all marriages experience instances of domestic violence. In most cases, their children are assaulted and beaten also. If they try to leave, they are much more likely to die. Half of them try to leave anyway but end up fugitives of the law for taking their children or homeless. The other half will stay with their abuser because they cannot support themselves and their children.

Mothers are 8 times more likely to abuse their children while they are being battered and yet, if they are investigated by child protection organizations, they are not considered victims. The vast majority of abused women who use shelter services bring their children. In one study, 72% of the women brought children to the shelter; 21% were accompanied by three or more children.

Since 1 out of every 3 women is a victim of domestic violence,

you either know an abused woman
… or you are one.

As a young child, not more than four years old, I hid behind the refrigerator as my parents fought. Quiet as a mouse, I waited until everything was silent, as my mother had told me to do. After what seemed like hours in my childish mind, I peeked around the corner to see if he was gone. My mother lay motionless on the floor in a rapidly expanding pool of blood. Fighting panic I cried out for my sister who I thought was probably hiding as well. After no response I walked through the kitchen to the door where my mother was laying, I walked through my mother’s blood and on to the other room. Looking back I could see my own footprints across the kitchen. Looking back now, I still see them as vividly as I did that day. Even after 30 years, I still cry for that little girl.

Years later, I asked my mother why she didn’t leave. Her answer will always haunt my heart,

“I didn’t have a place to go, and even if I did,
how would I support you girls?
you were the reason I stayed”

Maybe a person has to live through abuse to truly understand the weight of that statement and how it affects not only the mother, but her children as well. Sparrow House is born because it needs to be. I’ve shared with you a vision that’s been in my head for 30 years, one I will never forget and I hope it will leave a lasting impression on you as well.