Earlier this year we heard numerous reports of sexual abuse in the Roman Catholic Church. It made me ponder how one finds justice after so many years.
Thirty years is a long time to keep a secret. I know because I was sexually abused as a female student at a Lutheran college in the early 1970s. It was there that I met a professor who would be my teacher, adviser, work-study supervisor — and perpetrator. I had no reason to question his authority or experience. I trusted him to care for me, and that trust was violated.
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