My grandma spent most of her time in her room when she was home. She was functioning very well in her own world. She seldom let anyone into her world and I was flattered at times when she would acknowledge my existance. My great-grandmother, whom I called "Granny", also lived there, too. She was a follower of ECK. She had these pictures of her "master" all over the house. The "master" appeared to be watching you at all times. It gave me the creeps. The elders said it was demonic and possessed. So when I would sleep at night, I took the picture down in the room and put my Bible over it to ward off the demons.

My granny said I could stay with them, all I had to do was ask. I said I would think about it. They didn't know I intended on returning to Pueblo so I could become a full time pioneer. They probably would not have understood. I know my atheist aunt would never understand. I also had the feeling my parents would not be too cool with the plan either. My dad had always insisted that I go to college and get a degree so I could succeed in life. My mom, whom I knew to be an "apostate", probably would get on my case as well. I knew I still had to see them. I was looking forward to it in a way, but I was afraid of what would happen. I was not supposed to talk to my mother.

How could I not talk to my mother? Whatever happened to respect your parents? The congregation and my mother had always drilled that into my head. We were to honor our mother and father. I had to honor and respect my father who was never a witness. I didn't see how it was any different with my mom just because she no longer believed. After all, she simply stopped going to the meetings. She was never disfellowshipped or disassociated. The "friends" at the congregation still considered her a member, but started to back off from her. She never would sit down with the elders to help them in their witch hunt for "apostates". She was labelled one, but not offically kicked out. Even when she started celebrating the holidays openly, they never called her on the carpet, although they made attempts to try. She even started going to a church every now and then. For all intents and purposes, my mom was bad association. I was expected to cut my ties with her and I just couldn't do it. In spite of all her mistakes in raising me, I still loved my mom. I held out the hope that if I kept my promise I made to her that she would come to her senses and get back into the "truth". She made me promise that no matter what, even if she were to leave, I was not to abandon the "truth". I was going to hold firm to that promise. I didn't want her to die at the end. I wanted my whole family in the "truth". Now, I was the only one.

When I went to Chicago, things were tense. The flashbacks I had to incidents of childhood were strong. It was live a tape recorder going off in my head. At times, I felt like I was actually re-living certain moments of my life. It just got worse the more I stayed with my parents. I swore I was under demonic possession. Especially with the book "Crisis of Conscience" in the house. My mom kept insisting I read it. I would always put it off and tell her I couldn't. She was so insistent that I rethink my beliefs. John Ankerberg always seemed to be on to knock the "truth", but I managed to tune him out. My mom was trying to pressure me out of the "truth". My reaction, get stronger in the "truth". This was proof that Jehovah was testing my faith. I could not fail the test. If I did, we would all be dead at the end.

In spite of my mom trying her best to deprogram me, I was now a full fledge witness, "unmovable in the faith."