My husband thought I  should write a blog.  I'm not sure if it's because he thinks I'll babble at him less, or if he really thinks I have something to say.  He claims it's the latter.  I'm not convinced, but ultimately, it doesn't really matter.   It was a nice thing to say.
Does everyone start out their blog by introducing themselves?  I'm Eva; I'm forty-something, and I've got eight children. First four girls, then four boys.  Five of them are biological, and three are adopted.  I thought that raising eight kids within 8 years of one another was the biggest challenge I'd ever face, and it was for a few years.
Two of our girls have been sexually assaulted.   While that does not define me or them, it is a huge piece of our lives, as God continues to bring wounded people to us - mostly because we just don't judge.  All of the Judgey McJudgerpants (thank you Maureen) has been kicked right out of us.  We just have no room to talk.  Personally, I spend way too much of my life thinking about where I'd hide the bodies if given the chance.   I'm pretty sure that qualifies as worse than what most people struggle with.
Since the statistics are now that 1:2 girls and 1:3 boys will be sexually assaulted by their 18th birthday, I suspect this is a pretty relevant issue.  Yet, people don't talk about it.  Many still view the victims as the ones who brought it on themselves.  Some think if you ignore it, it goes away.  Others feel like people just need to get over it and move on...and of course there are those who think Jesus will fix it in a day.  I kind of hate them all.  Sexual assault is so complex, so intimate, so all-encompassing and the effects are just on and on and on.  Memories lurk in every smell, sound, taste.  My girls can be completely fine for months, and then something, somewhere completely sends them back into fetal position.  Often, they don't even know what it was.
Their siblings have also had their share of pain from it all.  They've been moved, been told they can't talk to certain people ever again, and had to deal with tears and rage of their sisters, often having no idea what was wrong.  It isn't fair.  It really isn't.  All of it.  Nobody asked for it, and yet it gets to be in our house every freaking day.  It doesn't defeat us, but it lurks. 
You don't want to be a 13 year old boy in this house.  I have two, and they get eaten alive if they even think of letting their hormones out.   You forget to put deodorant on in this house, three people tell you how bad you smell before breakfast, and a couple more will catch you on your way downstairs to put it on.  You grow a hair anywhere other than your head, you better not let anyone find out, or it is totally dinner conversation.  My oldest son called a girl 'hot' when he was about 9, and he had four sisters down his throat declaring him a male chauvenist pig within a nano-second.  Poor guy had no idea what he had even done.  But women  aren't objects in this house.   From very early on, our girls (and boys) were clearly told not to settle, ever.  They are worth more than that. 
At this point, we are a household of extremely imperfect survivors who try, screw up, fall, get up, and we desperately want to honor God with our lives.  Some days we do( I hope) and others He is doing the world's most profound eye roll at us.  
If you are hurting, I hope you can find some rest here.  You can know that as least in this house, we aren't in a hurry for you to get your act together.   Don't be whiny or annoying, but you can ache here.  We all do.  But we laugh a lot, too.