A Christmas Letter to My Children Part I (December 23, 2020)

Dear Jonathan, Sarah, Joshua, and Christina,

Christmas nearly here. On that day, 9 years ago. How could any of us forget? Obedient to Pastor Scott, Christmas morning, you were encouraged/directed to throw away your mother. Again. Dad complicit, he allowed Jonathan to do the talking. The second time in five months to be ‘put away’ from my family. Why? And on Christmas!

See the photo above. My corn bag cupboard. Stocked full, we sold them off and on for years. I had been brought back home in September 2011, from being kept hidden, in solitary (from my family) for 3 months. My work schedule prevented attending church. You kids complained to Pastor Ron Zarou. Told to change the schedule or quit the job. Schedule remained unchanged, so I had to quit. Subsequently church (with dad) arranged for me to work for Sarah Bright, cleaning apartments. And selling corn bags.

Two weeks before Christmas. A holiday sale at the Lucketts Store. I was there selling corn bags. All day, outdoors. Dad stopped and Gretel (with little Noah) came by. He got a pizza, talking and laughing with her. Jonathan and Carly popped by. Quite unhappy to see dad and Gretel, (she’d been thrown out while I was thrown out...) Next church service, Jonathan and Carly, Sarah and Taylor...proceeded to rebuke dad for hanging out with a ‘God-hater’...(uhm Gretel and her 1-year-old child).

I was silent. Watching, vaguely listening. On ‘parole’, I knew not to speak unless asked. Jonathan...'Mom do you have anything you would like to say?’ Stood and looked at my children. (Can still see each of your faces at that moment.) Sadly told Jonathan he was wrong to do this to his father. Tom had a right to see and talk to his own daughter if he chose.

The kids faces fell. Jonathan told me I’d said enough. Next service, Tom called out for a meeting, came back in whispering I was not allowed to attend church. Escorted out in front of my young Josh and Christina. Public humiliation again. Well orchestrated for maximum impact. Terrorized once more.

Two weeks before Christmas....(Con’t.)