When I first read Daphne’s review of my book, I gasped. Oh, my God, I thought. She is identifying with the clergy who breached confidentiality and congregants who chose to gossip about me. What does that say about her? Does she value civility over truth and kindness while stigmatizing anyone with a history of depression and anxiety?

In her review Daphne distorts the facts of my life by minimizing the abuse I suffered and exaggerating the length and intensity of my emotional problems. She appears to view my depression and anxiety as long-term and unchangeable character defects rather than the predictable and treatable response to sexual, physical and emotional abuse. Consequently, she rejects my premise that nothing I did merited the spiritual abuse I suffered. Instead she agrees with my adversaries that I have “significant problems getting along with other people” and that I “fail to take responsibility”. Like my adversaries Daphne does not take into account my successful marriage and good relationships with my children and others outside of the congregations I wrote about.

In addition to her belief that I lack good social skills, Daphne concludes my therapist had to be right when he wondered if my perceptions created a self-fulfilling prophecy. Dr. Emmett’s knowledge of the self-fulfilling prophecy comes from a well-known study where it was shown that teacher expectations about student’s potential achievement influenced how well or poorly students performed. Less widely known is that the study was never replicated and subsequent research showed that the “effects are minimal for most teachers because expectations are generally accurate and open to corrective feedback.” Even if the phenomenon of self-fulfilling prophecy was real and significant Daphne ignores that prior to being betrayed and rejected I had expected friendship, loyalty and understanding. Instead I was emotionally abused and shunned.

Finally, in her review Daphne is using the self-fulfilling prophecy as a way to blame the bullied and to exonerate the bully and the bystander. By blaming victims and insisting that if they behaved differently abuse wouldn’t occur gives onlookers a false sense of security that it couldn’t happen to them. Some how they are stronger and wiser than the victim and it is the victim’s weakness that is the cause of the problem. However, all of us have vulnerabilities that other people can manipulate to further their own selfish agendas without regard to our welfare.

I went skating early this morning along the Ten Mile River Bike Path in Pawtucket. The cool fall weather was perfect for skating and I felt strong. I skated up and down the hills back and forth between Paawtucket and East Providence. After an hour I turned around and started back towards my car. As I approached a small bridge that crosses a stream I thought, this would be a really bad place to fall. There are no guard rails to prevent you from going into the water.

As I skated through the dry leaves I watched a drake and its mate swim away from the bridge. On the other side of the bridge I set my left foot down and pushed through my heel accelerating as I approached the rising slope of the next hill. I glided. I was pleased with my ability to skate well. I set my right foot down. My wheels locked and I was propelled into the air. Before I could react my arms hit the pavement first and I skidded along the pavement toward a fence. Unable to support my weight against the force of the fall my face hit the ground. As I slid I felt my permanent crown and another tooth cave in. Oh, no, I thought, I have ruined my teeth.

I stopped just inches from rail fence sprawled on my stomach with dirt in my mouth. I laid there catching my breath. Slowly I sat up. Blood was dripping from my chin and lip onto my grey sweatshirt. Stunned I stood up as I tried to think what to do. I was at least a mile from my car. Do I wait until someone passes and ask for help? I looked in the direction I was traveling and saw an old man walking towards me. I waited. He looked at me, turned his eyes away and kept walking. Can’t stay here hoping someone will help, I thought. I tried to move off. My wheels wouldn’t move. I sat down again and examined my skates. That’s when I found the stem of an oak leave stuck between the brake and the rear wheel. I removed it and stood up again. I considered removing my skates and walking. No, better to skate, I thought. It will take too long walking in my stocking feet.

I started skating slowly. A couple approached. I looked at them. They kept talking to each other and walking passed me. I sighed. My face ached. I must get myself back to the car and check my face in the mirror. I could feel that one tooth was chipped and my crown was bent. There was a cut on my lip and chin.

I would have to make it back to my car on my own. I skated slowly down the path. I saw a man in an orange velour jacket jogging. When he saw me he stopped, “What happened? Are you okay?”

I stopped and told him what had happened to me.

“Should I call someone?” he asked.

“I’m on my way back to my car,” I replied as I started rolling off.

“I’ll go with you,” the man said as he turned around to jog along side of me. “Did you hurt your head?”

I hadn’t considered that. My head and neck ached. Lucky I didn’t break it, I thought.

“You should call someone,” he said.

“I will call my husband when I get back to the car.” I replied.

“Here take my phone and call him now,” the man said.

I looked at the phone in the man’s hand. “I have my own phone,” I said. “I will call him when I get back to the car.”

“Call him now,” the man said. The man held out his phone.

Confused I reached into my pocket and removed my slim silver phone. I pressed “3”.

“Hi,” my husband said. “How was your skate?”

“I fell,” I told him. “I cut my lip and broke my tooth. I think I broke my implant. A nice man is helping me. He is coming with me to the car.”

“Let me know what happens,” Lyndon said. I could hear the worry and distress in his voice.

“Have your husband meet you at your car,” the man suggested.

“He is an hour away in Worcester,” I replied as I put my phone away.

The nice man jogged along side of me telling me about the hazards along the trail and the accidents he has either seen or heard about. I try to smile but cannot. It hurts too much.

“Twigs can be worse than pebbles,” I tried to explain.

When we reached the turn off to my car he said he would wait until I got in the car. “What’s your name?” I asked as I turned left.

“Jesus,” he said.

“Jesus,” I said as I turned towards the car, “Thank you.”

When I reached my car I saw a man on a bike stop and talk to Jesus who was nodding and gesticulating towards me. I bent down to remove my skates. When I looked up both men were gone.

A friend when she saw my face and heard my story was dismayed that three people did not stop to help me. What was wrong with them, she asked in her blog, The Cookie Momster.

Social psychologists have studied helping behavior. Before bystanders offer assistance they must first recognize that help is needed. Since I didn’t ask for help the three people who passed me by may not have realized help was needed.

Once bystanders realize an emergency exists they have to figure out what kind of help is required and whether they have the necessary resources. Jesus perhaps because of previous training and/or experience recognized I should not be left alone until it was certain that I would not collapse from a more serious and undetected head injury. He also understood that a little emotional support would ease my fear.

As I recovered from my injuries I also thought about the story of the Good Samaritan (Luke 10:29 – 37). “Who,” Jesus asked, “was the good neighbor? The one who passed the wounded man by or the one who stopped?”

If we are to be good neighbors to each other we must first want to be the person who offers help to a stranger. Then we must know how to do it. It is impossible to know if the three people who passed by wanted to do the right thing and didn’t know how or if they were indifferent. All we know for sure is that the man who stopped and walked with me was the good neighbor. Ironically, his name was Jesus.