I remember looking into the hallway, hearing my mom crying. It didn’t seem like a normal cry. Of course what is normal, but it wasn’t the kind of cry a person hears when their mom is just mad about something us kids did or a moody-sad because well she just might be having PMS. No, this cry was different. It was deep, yet shallow. It seemed to take her breath away. It seemed to start in her gut and then it couldn’t make itself fully out when the sob left her lips, thus beginning the whole process again with a painful look of not being able to breath.

I learned later my aunt was dead. This was one of my mom’s sisters. It made no sense. She was younger than my mom how could she possibly be dead. I was only ten but I did understand this was not normal. Then the horror was revealed to me: my uncle had shot and killed my aunt. What I didn’t understand at such a young age was the reasons, the obscenity of the situation, and the ripples it would cause for years to come.

Then several years later, my mom received another phone call. This time from my uncle, the man who murdered her sister. He was in prison and dying. I again didn’t understand all the implications of why he was calling, why my mom was even willing to talk to him, and what did this all have to do with us.

Now I am older I still don’t understand why anyone would take another’s life but I do know the details surrounding my aunt’s death. They were divorced due to his abusiveness which had begun early into their relationship. My aunt had endured physical and mental abuse longer than any one person should ever have to. They had two boys, my cousins, who each had to deal with their own scars of the abuse they witnessed as well as received. I know now despite the escape from her marriage my aunt continued to endure great abuse from my uncle. I also know the night my uncle decided to take my aunt’s life he was drunk, angry, and abusive; and one of my cousins witnessed it.

A person may wonder how my mom could even think of talking to this man who blew a hole through her sister’s chest with a shot gun at close range. I had wondered this myself for many years. I wanted to hate him. I wanted to wish as terrible of a fate, if not worse, upon him. I now see my mom’s wisdom. Forgiveness is truly the only healer in moving forward and doing great things despite the tragedy a person may experience in their life. I am sure there are many who may disagree with this philosophy. Whether a person agrees with forgiveness or not, I am a witness to all the great things my mom has been driven to do because of the fate her sister faced.

Five years ago my mom started a non-profit she named “The Sanctuary Zone”. She wanted to create a place for battered women and families to go for safety. Yet she didn’t want it to be like a hospital runs their ER. She didn’t want to put a bandage on the external wounds, give them a bed for a couple hours or days and then send them on their way. No, she had much bigger dreams for her “Sanctuary Zone”. She wanted a place where broken people can go, not only hide for safety, but also begin the process of healing their souls. And to make her dream even more of a challenge, she wanted to figure out how to provide services for the abuser to mend his soul, to have the chance to make things right if possible. Finally, the area of the “Sanctuary Zone” she felt was the most important: the children. She wanted the children to go through their own healing and mending by being loved the way children should be loved. She wanted them to be able to grow and become healthy in their mind and spirit so this cycle of violence would truly end. She saw how the tragedy of her sister scarred her nephews for life. They were never given proper therapy. They may not be abusers themselves but have had to struggle with so much, from depression to attachment issues. They are wonderful young men today who still struggle today because of the ripples their father set in motion so many years ago.

“The Sanctuary Zone” is not completed but each year we manage to save a few more funds or receive a bit more help from the community who also see the need for such a well rounded organization that is willing to do more than put a bandage on the wound with out cleaning it. It may take my mom the rest of her lifetime and more, to have “Sanctuary Zone” completely up and running but I think if anything her moving forward, doing good for others, has helped her heal her own ripple from this tragedy.

Over the last 5 years we have brought you this newsletter with updates and the “going-ons” of “The Sanctuary Zone”. Just in the last year we have shared the time-line of great accomplishments. We ask in each newsletter for help in one area or another. So I felt the best way to welcome and acknowledge our 5th year of hard work was not to give you a repeat of what you already know but maybe to give you a glimpse of the heart and soul of “The Sanctuary Zone”. And maybe with this pearl, you too can help start changing the ripples in your families lives, neighbors, or even a strangers.

With that I close with thank you “Sanctuary Zone” for your last 5 years of dedication to families. And thank you for your future years. But most of all thank you mom for your love, courage, and compassion. I am sure I am speaking for more than myself by saying that, I wouldn’t be so involved and passionate about “Sanctuary Zone” if it wasn’t for this brave, merciful woman, Betty Summers.

Written with great respect by Santuary Zones Newsletter Editor/Writer (and daughter of Betty) Kelly Frick.