A Nightmare Come True

Warning: there is violence in this post that might upset people.

If you would like to know why I am sharing my story please read the post March 8th, 2020

I grew up wanting to be a missionary. When I was 17, I had the opportunity to go to the Philippines and work in an orphanage. It seemed like the perfect chance for a kid who wanted to be a missionary to find out what it was really like.

We were told it would be a very safe situation. I would be living with some missionaries at a small mission. There was a church, the orphanage, and a Bible school.

Unfortunately, not everything at the mission was what it seemed. A few days after I arrived, I was raped by the Filipino pastor. He told me he would kill a child in the orphanage if I told anyone. I was scared to death, and I didn’t know what to do.

A couple of days later, I was playing with the children of the head of the mission. I will call him Lauren. He came and asked me how I was enjoying my trip so far. I burst into tears.

Lauren was very kind, and he convinced me to tell him what had happened. He was horrified and immediately took me to the pastor to confront him.

The pastor denied everything. But I had bruises that had to be explained. To my horror he said that I had tried to seduce him. I had thrown myself at him and wouldn’t stop kissing him. To protect himself he had thrown me to the ground. That was how I got the bruises.

Lauren said he didn’t know who to believe. He needed some time to pray about it, and he told us to say nothing to anyone.

I was terrified because of the threat to kill a child, but Lauren insisted this would never happen. He knew the pastor very well and he would never kill anyone, especially a child.

I started crying and begged him to believe me. He said “If you are old enough to come on a trip like this, you are old enough to act like an adult. This talk about killing is just nonsense, so stop crying.”  What could I say after that?

My bedroom had a window out to a kind of alley. That night the pastor came into my bedroom through the window. I woke up to find him standing beside my bed with his hand over my mouth.

He had a colored plastic bag. Out of the bag he pulled a child’s head. The neck was still dripping blood. I was frozen with horror.

He said this is what he had done because I had talked. More people would die if I didn’t keep my blankety-blank mouth shut. He laughed and said no one would believe me anyway. Lauren was proof of that.

He put the head back into the bag, grabbed me by my hair, and kissed me.  Then he threw me back down on the bed and left through the window.  

I was terrified and sick.  I just curled up into a little ball, shaking and sobbing.  I must have cried myself to sleep.

When I woke up, I told myself it had all been a dream.  People don’t get their heads chopped off!  It just doesn’t happen!!  And to carry a head in a plastic bag?!?  That is so ridiculous it couldn’t possibly be true.  It was just a dream.  A terrible nightmare.

Believing this, I started to get out of bed.  Then I froze in horror.  On the floor were drops of blood.  I had almost stepped on them. The nightmare had really happened.

I fell back onto the bed crying hysterically.  I was so afraid, and I didn’t know what to do.  I tried to pray, but God felt very far away.  And yet, there was a part of me that knew He was still with me.  I wasn’t really alone.  That comfoted me a little bit.

 

March 8th, 2020

Today is March 8th – the second anniversary of my dad’s death. I had a good cry last night, thinking of the last evening we spent together.

Tomorrow, March 9th, is the second anniversary of the day I found out I was healed. Such a strange mixture of joy and sorrow.

This morning I was meditating on the Mass readings and this stood out to me: “Beloved, bear your share of hardship for the gospel with the strength that comes from God.” (2 Timothy 1:8)

Some of you might know that I suffered extreme trauma while on the mission field and further trauma after I returned home. My dad’s greatest sorrow was finding out what happened to me. To see me in so much pain, especially when I had PTSD flashbacks, broke his heart.

My dad did “bear his share of hardship for the gospel with the strength that comes from God.” And because of his belief in me, his constant love, and his support, I was able to survive what happened to me.

I believe the time has come for me to share some of my story. It is a difficult story to tell. It involves incomprehensible evil, gruesome violence, betrayal and sexual abuse by church leaders, both Protestant and Catholic.

But it is also a story of God’s faithfulness. Even if God allows you to be taken into hell itself, He will always be with you.

Why am I telling my story? 2 Corinthians 1:3-6 explains it so well.

“Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of Mercy, and the God of all consolation.

“He consoles us in all our afflictions and thereby enables us to console others in their tribulations, offering them the consolation with which we ourselves are consoled by God.

“For just as we share abundantly in the sufferings of Christ, so to, through Christ, do we receive our consolation.

“If we are being afflicted, it is for your consolation and salvation. If we are being consoled, it is to help us console you.”

I have shared abundantly in the sufferings of Christ. And He has consoled and comforted me in amazing ways. It is my hope and my prayer that sharing my story might be able to help someone else. I want to share the beautiful gifts that God has given me with others who are suffering.

 

The Glass Sparrow

You might wonder what almost two years living in a miracle is like? It is wonderful! I still get lost looking out a window. I’m still fascinated by the feel of warm sunlight. I love being able to go to daily Mass.

But to be completely honest, it was very overwhelming at first. It was still amazing and wonderful, but it was hard, too. Let me try to explain.

For more than 30 years I had lived a very isolated life. I literally lived in a room with tin foil on the windows. Now I’m suddenly out in the world. My dreams have come true and my prayers have been answered.

But I don’t know this world. Experiences most adults take for granted I have never had. There was so much I’ve never done, so much I didn’t know! The full reality of how much I had lost during these years of isolation came crashing in on me.

On top of that, everything my dad used to do was now my responsibility. And I didn’t know how to do any of it! I didn’t even know how to buy gas for a car.

I was also still in shock over my dad’s death. My grief was so intense. I missed him so much! Then I had two beloved pets die very unexpectedly, within a few weeks of each other.

To say I was overwhelmed is an understatement! Fortunately I also had people who loved me, people who gave me very good advice. They told me my reactions were normal. I just needed time to heal and get used to all the changes.

I spent most of that summer sitting outside. Watching the sunlight on the leaves of the trees. Watching the squirrels, the birds, the butterflies, and the bees. I grew a vegetable garden. Sometimes it was so beautiful I’d cry with joy. I was filled with an amazed gratitude that God would give me this gift.

That August I went to the beach with my sister and her family. This was a turning point for me. As I sat in the sunshine, watching the waves, something inside me began to wake up.

One day we went to a glass blowing shop. On a shelf I saw a blown glass bird. It looked so gentle and sweet. The glass was beautiful shades of blue, just like the sky. It was a Sparrow.

After great deliberation (it was very expensive!) I bought that bird. To me it is the Nocturnal Sparrow, set free to fly in the blue sky and sunlight.

The Miracle

The next day mom had an appointment at the funeral home. I was not going to let her go through this without me. I was determined to go to this appointment no matter what. I didn’t care how sick the sun made me.

It was a bright sunny day. To everyone’s surprise I was fine during the drive. At the funeral home our meeting was in a room with windows. I was still fine.

Then we went to the cemetery to purchase a gravesite. We were walking out in the sunshine to pick the spot. I was still fine! What was going on?

My dad’s funeral a few days later was also a bright sunny day. I was still fine. No stinging. No itching. No welts on my skin. No pain. No dizziness. No paralysis. I was in sunlight all day!

After this we wondered what would happen. Was this just a temporary miracle to help me get through the necessary parts of planning and attending my dad’s funeral?

After the funeral I pretty much went back to my sun avoiding life. Because I didn’t want my mom to be alone all day, I kept sleeping at night. During the daytime I stayed in the parts of our house that had good light blocking shades.

A few days after the funeral I was cleaning the kitchen. It was another lovely sunny day. I wondered if I could put the shade up. I decided to try it. Sunlight poured into the kitchen. Nothing happened to me.

I decided to try opening the other window. More sunlight. I was better than fine. It felt like the sunlight was giving me energy and strength.

Over the next few days I kept experimenting. I opened windows in the living room. I opened my bedroom window and said Liturgy of the Hours in the sunlight. I slept with my window opened and let the sunrise wake me up.

March 20th is my birthday. I celebrated by going outside and weeding the front yard. It was so much fun!

Sunlight seemed to be like a medicine to me. The more I got, the better I felt. I craved sunlight. It felt like I had been dying of thirst and suddenly I not only had water to drink, I could jump right in and swim in it. It was wonderful!

A Very Dark Day

March 8, 2018 changed my life forever.

I went to bed as usual that morning. (Being nocturnal, I slept in the daytime.) I was just falling asleep when my mom came into my room. She was crying, and she said my dad was dead.  He had died in his sleep. She had just found him.

I couldn’t believe it. I ran into his room. He looked like he was just peacefully asleep. I reached out to touch his neck to feel for a pulse. I immediately knew I had touched a dead body. My whole world crashed into pieces.

Mom had followed me.  I looked at her and said, “What are we going to do?”  She answered, “I don’t know.”  We completely understood each other.

My mom has advanced stage 4 breast cancer.  It has spread throughout her bones and into her organs.  Originally they gave her six months to a year to live. That was almost five years ago, so we are very grateful.

But the constant cancer treatments have taken a toll on her health.  The side effects even become dangerous sometimes. She has spent MANY hours in the emergency department at our local hospital.

My dad was the kind of man who quietly took care of everything.  He took care of my mom. He took care of me.  He did all the yardwork, car maintenance, house repairs. He even did the grocery shopping when my mom wasn’t well enough to go shopping. He did everything for us.  It was the way he showed how much he loved us.

What would we do without him?  Mom was sick and I couldn’t even be near a window!

The rest of that morning was a blur. Paramedics, police, phone calls, friends and family rushing over.

That afternoon I got a few minutes alone, and I completely fell apart.  I love my dad so much.  We were very close.  My grief was intense.  On top of this was still that unanswered question:  what will we do? How can I take care of mom?

Suddenly I felt my dad’s presence.  His love enveloped me like an ocean.

I knew this was my dad.  Somehow I could feel his personality.  But there was something else, something completely new I sensed in him.

My dad was an easy going, cheerful person. But now he was filled with a joy so intense it almost seemed to be exploding out of him like sparks.  What I felt coming from him was amazing. He was beyond happy.  He was pure joy.

He spoke to me.  “It is going to be alright.   YOU are going to be alright.  I love you and I am proud of you.  God has a plan, and it is beautiful.  Trust Him.  You are going to be alright.”

Since I had been awake all day I went to bed that night like a “normal” person.  I had no idea there was a huge surprise waiting for me the next day.  I still didn’t know God’s plan.

 

I am back! And No Longer Nocturnal!!

Did you read the title?  Yes, it’s true. The Nocturnal Sparrow is no longer nocturnal!!

(Just in case you are new to this blog, the story of my being nocturnal is on the About the Sparrow page.)  In brief, for more than 30 years I have had to stay out of all sunlight, including through windows.

Now I am free!!  Out in the beautiful SUNLIGHT!!  I  now own SUNGLASSES. I went to the beach and got a SUNBURN!  I planted a garden.  I picked berries and apples.  I even have freckles, ha ha!

What happened?  That’s a story I’ll tell in another post. Stay tuned!

Saint Benedict and the Raven

If you are not familiar with Saint Benedict, you might wonder why he is often pictured with a Raven.

The stories say that the Raven became his friend while he was living as a hermit.  Saint Benedict would share bits of his bread, and being a smart bird, Mr. Raven kept coming back.  When Saint Benedict moved to live in a monastery, the Raven followed along.  He often showed up at mealtimes for the bits of bread Saint Benedict would save for him.

One day Saint Benedict was given a “gift” of poisoned bread.  Instead of eating it, Saint Benedict told the Raven to carry the loaf far away and drop it where no one would find it and eat it.  The Raven obeyed, and then came back for his food.  I bet the Saint gave him a special treat to eat that day.

Tonight the slugs outside are eating  their bread.  I wonder if they might rescue me from something someday?  I kind of doubt it, but you never know!   Chirp, Chirp!

Summer Lessons

I’ve sure been quiet lately. To make up for it, here are some things I have learned this summer. I’m sure you will find them all extremely useful!

LESSON ONE
Do not underestimate how quickly four year-olds-grow.  Especially if they are going to spend any time alone in your bedroom where there are jars of lotion.

LESSON TWO
If you move all lotion and breakables to higher places, little Miss “I stood on my tippy-toes!” will stay out of your room completely during that visit.

LESSON THREE
If you suspect you will run out of yarn while knitting a sweater, STOP KNITTING!

LESSON FOUR
Slugs LOVE zucchini!

LESSON FIVE
If you have touched a banana, a slug might mistakenly try to eat your hand instead of the banana.

LESSON SIX
If you have just finished eating a peanut butter and honey sandwich, a slug will deliberately try to eat your hand.

LESSON SEVEN
If you are wearing Kiss My Face Honey and Calendula lotion, every slug you touch will repeatedly try to eat you, even when you keep knocking them on the head to make them stop.

LESSON EIGHT
Even though slugs have more teeth than a shark, it doesn’t hurt when they try to eat you. It is more like little raspy things scraping your skin over and over. If they continue it for very long, your skin will end up feeling slightly irritated later – kind of like it was exfoliated too much!

LESSON NINE
If you set up a new email account under the name of this blog, make sure you don’t leave the “r” out of “nocturnal”. No matter how many times you request a new password, you will not be able to sign in with the correct spelling.

Now that I’ve shared my wisdom with you all, I am sure your lives will be much happier. Learn from my mistakes, ha ha! Off to check my slug friends. They are eating pears tonight, and don’t seem to mind that it is not zucchini. Chirp, Chirp!

The Children Of The Needy

I learned something fun tonight that I thought I’d share with you.  Afghans for Afghanistan (A4A) is an organization I have sent clothing to for years.   They just received a request from a hospital in Kabul for infant socks and hats.  Unfortunately the time frame is quite short.  To get the items to the hospital by winter, A4A needs to receive them by July 3 at the latest.

When I took a break from the cute little baby hat I had started knitting to say Evening Prayer, I was shocked at how perfect it was!  The first prayer was Psalm 72, which many believe speak prophetically of Jesus’ Kingship.  Listen to these verses:

May He defend the poor of the people and save the children of the needy.

For He shall save the poor when they cry, and the needy who are helpless.

He will have pity on the weak, and save the lives of the poor.

 Afghanistan has one of the highest child mortality rates in the world, mainly because of the combination of cold winters and poverty. Many babies don’t survive their first 48 hours.  Studies have proven that giving these new moms a warm wool hat for their baby can literally save the newborn’s life.  Can you imagine being so poor that your baby dies because you don’t have a hat?  It’s so sad!

Theresa of Avila wrote these words:  “Christ has no Body now but yours.  No hands, no feet on earth but yours.  Yours are the eyes through which He looks compassion on this world.  Yours are the feet with which He walks to do good.  Yours are the hands through which He blesses all the world.”

Remember how much Jesus loved the children?  He rebuked His disciples for keeping them away, and He took them in His arms and blessed them.  How much He must love the children of Afghanistan!

Do you knit or crochet?  (A4A doesn’t accept store bought, used, or sewn items.  It makes the customs forms more complicated.)  Want to let Jesus use your hands and help Him bless His precious children?  Here is the link to A4A’s main website with all the information.  Now back to my knitting!  Chirp, chirp!

 

 

 

Please, Let Him Be Loved

Tonight I read a post on Vultus Christi that brought tears to my eyes.  Here is the link:  God Hidden and Unknown.  I suggest you read it before reading the rest of my post.

I am going to share something with you that almost no-one knows.  To prevent scandal I have not even told most of my family and friends.  But I feel compelled to speak out now.

In my work with our parish altar linens I have found very similar things.  Jesus in the Eucharist is being thrown away almost every week.  I have held pieces of the Sacred Host in my hand with a purificator that had mucus spat onto it.  I have found corporals that were burnt and coated with sugar.  I have sometimes found 20 – 40 fragments at a time thrown away, often along with towels filled with coffee, filthy water, or rotting plants.  Two weeks ago, a priest’s purificator was covered in mud.  Last week, a purificator was used for dusting.

Every effort I have made to get this stopped has failed.  Even going to the Archbishop causes just a temporary improvement.

For almost five years I have cried, I have prayed, and I have pleaded with God the Father to cause us to love His Son in the Eucharist.  And now I am asking all of you to please join my prayers.  If you are a non-Catholic Christian, please pray that Jesus is loved in whatever way you feel comfortable.  And if you aren’t Christian at all, thanks so much for reading!  I welcome your good wishes and thoughts, and if you feel like trying a prayer, hooray!

I will end this post with a prayer quoted from Prior Kirby at Vultus Christi:

Prayer for Eucharistic Light and Fire

Send, O Jesus, a penetrating light upon thy priests. Enkindle a fire of love in their hearts. Increase their faith and grace them with an angelic reverence in Thy presence, lest by treating Thee carelessly, or with indifference, they scandalize the little ones who look to them for an example of living faith and of humble adoration.

Reveal, O Jesus, Thy Eucharistic Face! Let the flames that escape from Thy Eucharistic Heart enkindle a great body of adorers, especially among Thine own priests, lest Thy Church suffer too great a darkness, too piercing a cold.   Amen.

“Amen, amen, and amen!” says this little Sparrow with all her heart.