The Grace of the Heart
A
Survivors Testimony
By
Wendella K.
Copyright Pending
October 17, 2000
All Rights Reserved
Preface
October 1, 1998
It will be for my glory that you will write the book."
I am here, now with me myself and I. I am alone in my world trying to guide myself through this existence called
All I know is that I am.
Me.
Not someone else or their experience, but mine, alone, real, not contrived or hoped for.
Man has not seen nor heard all that can be; will be; is; or was. Only He knows it all.
Signed Me.
Wendella K.
Dedication
Mom,
I know that you loved me with all of your heart. I know that some of the things I will write here will hurt you. I love you mother. For myself and for your grandchildren, some of whom you've never met. Forgive yourself!
Some things we cannot change.
Jesus Christ is with us Mom, and He will never leave.
I love you, Mom.
Good bye.
Your daughter.
(My mother died September 16, 1996.)
Dedication
ii
Introduction
.. 1
Chapter One: The First 40 Years
Poem: Millennium
. 4
Chapter Two: Thinking About Life
. 11
Chapter Three: The Journey Begins
The Mockery of Christ
16
My Best Friend Maggie
. 18
Poem: Oh Mister Moon
. 20
His Children
.. 22
The Dance of the Bodies
. 23
The Tunnels
.. 24
Poem: Dirty Shoes
.. 25
New Memory
. 26
Mary
27
The Colonel
.. 28
Confused
. 28
Chapter Four: Research on the Internet
. 29
Chapter Five: The Rest
Comes Forth
Body Memory
. 30
Chapter Six: Helps
Fear: How To Take Away Its Glory
.. 35
Denial vs. Healing
36
A Story
. 37
Group Acceptance and Healing
39
Chapter Seven: Connections
. 40
Chapter Eight: Recovery
Emails with Memories Shared with a Friend
.. 41
Attempted Suicide
43
Concern for You
. 43
Chapter Nine: Lessons
. 45
Chapter Ten: What Am I?
Aliens ??
60
The General
.. 62
Mommy
. 65
Notes Condo
67
Love Sessions
. 67
New Memory
70
Chapter Eleven: A Circle Returns Unto Itself
The "Culture"
71
Jenny
. 73
Slicing
Spinning
.. 74
Return to Montauk
.. 77
Chapter Twelve: My True Friend
The Savior
79
End Notes
. 80
My Continued Journey
.. 81
Introduction
Today Heavenly Father told me, It would not have been worth my life to let you die."
I had just come from a session with my counselor. The third one here in my hometown. I can call this my home because I have made it so. I have to write my life's story for my personal release from it.
I have so much to say I never know where to start.
The emotions well up inside so greatly my mind can't sort them out fast enough to speak.
Heavenly Father is trying to teach me to trust myself and others and have again, my once found faith in Him.
Man and Satan have almost destroyed my last hope of accomplishing that.
Satan is clever. He uses our greatest gifts to fool us and our smallest weakness to lift us to pain.
Satan has no respect for life because he cannot have it. The physical gift of a body and the resulting senses are not his to enjoy or hate. He must steal that from the almost dead to "enjoy".
I know much about Satan. Much that man has ignored. Willfully, happily in there own gluttonous quest for pleasure without pain.
There is no such existence for man. All pleasure and pain come from each other in the mind of the recipient. Each to his or her own reality by choice of the received outcome. No one can take away our free agency of choice of attitude in our hearts - only by our own deceit of ourselves; by denial of truth does that occur. Yet occur it does on a moment to moment basis of our own choice.
I have no college degree or paper or proof of anything I will say. That is or will be your choice to believe or at least ponder that which I speak from my heart.
I Challenge You!!
Don't consider;
Don't reason within yourself;
Don't accomplish the impossible and accept new ideas . . .
God doesn't care about you . . .
He doesn't exist.
Now, I have your attention!
Let's go there for a moment. Reality. What is it? Do you know? Can you tell your son or daughter that you know you exist? How can you prove it? I know you know you are, but how can you prove it? When you leave the room what is left of your existence? Only a memory in someone else's mind... If therefore there was no memory, would no one exist?
When you are looking at your left hand how do you know you have a right hand? Do you see it? Not necessarily. I learned to do an exercise with my mind where I would look at something and ask myself what am I really seeing. Well I can see the wall, but no, it's wood and paint. I don't see the nails or studs or insulation - I just know that they are there.
Reality is exactly that and nothing more for each of us. So, if I told you that I had lived and died several times in this life because I remembered it, how could you tell me it wasn't real?
Intelligence in my definition is the ability to understand. That allows us to love or hate, which are the same. When you love you accept and are close. When your pleasure in closeness turns to hate, your love turns to pain.
Life is so simple! Only ourselves make it complicated.
Now, since I have outwitted your own arguments to call me insane, you by your own anger; you will have to read this to prove me wrong. Or, you are too stubborn to learn and will throw it away in disgust claiming I am stupid and thereby make yourself a fool proving instantaneously all that I have said thus far is true!
Ha! Ha!
I win!!
January 4, 2000
Today I cleaned my house and tried to take care of my children. I actually had time to cook them a meal and read to them. Tomorrow I go to work again and life will get crazy again.
I wanted to find someone to talk to about my memories, but I do not think that will help me. I have had so much difficulty with it I think fate is telling me to stop trying. I am very tired and do not have the energy to keep trying.
The purpose in writing a book is to bring me peace so I can eliminate the post traumatic-stress syndrome factor in my life. I hope it works. Here goes.
I had what I thought was a normal childhood until I found myself in jail one night for child endangerment. I was accused of knowing that my companion was abusing my 11-month old daughter when I actually had no idea of what had occurred. It changed my whole life.
I was forced in the process to get my daughter home, in my custody again, to attend counseling and thereby realized I had problems totally hidden from my own view or awareness. Shock would be a kind word. Horror would be the reality. I still have great guilt over my blindness, but time and healing have helped me greatly. Forgiving oneself for being a child victim is not easy when you see your perpetrators' acts lived out from deep within yourself onto your children by your innocent actions and behavior. It is not an easy thing to live with.
I thought I had conquered most of my trauma over my fathers sexual molestation's of me, my mothers ' alcoholism, my adoption, my several marriages and divorces (I have had 7 children by 4 fathers), until I got on my knees and prayed to my Heavenly Father one and a half years ago for forgiveness of my sins. I was ready to be rebaptised in my Church and had a friend tell me that my desire to feel clean inside would come from saying this prayer. Well what happened as I knelt on my knees is still unbelievable to me to this day. I received 24 hours of memories of Satanic Ritual Abuse.
I still don't know how to feel about it, but because of all the special miracles and blessings I have received from Jesus Christ through my faith and testimony of him as my Savior, I believe that the memories are real (as much as I can at this point), and that they were revealed to me to heal me and in time allow me to help others walk the same paths of healing that I have for as far and as much as they chose to do so for themselves. Helping others is the only purpose I can accept at this time as to why I experienced what I have.
I want to say now before I go further that what I will write will at the very least horrify you. That it could be in the mind of anyone, nonetheless, be something that someone has actually lived through as a young child and survived enough to be partly sane. Sanity being defined as knowing right from wrong and good from bad, and having a consciousness and being able to feel that which is in ones' own heart and mind.
The pictures I will paint and the knowledge I disperse will be graphic - because I want it that way. You should not read this alone at night on Halloween or Christmas. Yet Satan does his best works then, and also on Easter!
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