The Prairie Mail

Journey To Find A Father’s Love When I was only 5 days old, my biological parents were killed in a car crash. I was the only survivor. I have only vague memories of being alone and scared for what seemed like forever. I was taken to the foster home from the hospital I guess after recovering from the car crash where I would later be adopted around age 9. I grew up, in what looked like a normal home on the outside, and when we were out in public. On the inside, when no one was watching, the lives of us 4 children were Hell. My Mom was terrified of my Dad, with good reason. She was allowed to raise us Catholic, to look normal to the outside world, learning about Jesus, my Grandmother's unconditional love for me, my Mom's struggles to protect me, and all of us; although she was helpless most of the time, and, you may not believe this, but I know it to be true in faith, the Archangel Gabriel, helped me to survive my Dad's extreme cruelty. He was, and for all I know, still is the High Priest of a satanic cult, I walked away from it at 18, and I've never looked back. I was quiet, shy and sensitive as a child anyways, so that made my suffering much greater then it would have been for a louder, more outgoing, and less sensitive child. I was also small for my age, and underweight, until I was around 11 years old. My Dad started when I was just 2 months old with fondling and penetrating me with fingers -- front and back -- I was gagged tightly so I wouldn’t cry as a young baby – I soon learned not to cry as an older baby – as I was beaten for crying -- all I have is the knowledge in my mind – body memories that were there have been healed – thank you Jesus, but I remember in truth. This was quite a shock to me, as for many years, certainly from the first few years when I started having memories of childhood around 1986-1990 I believed that it started when I was 3 months old, with Dad just fondling me, until I was 2 years old, until this week of May 21-27, 2012. Gabriel came to me, and led me to a beautiful garden surrounded by healing white light, he taught me how to create different personalities, to absorb the trauma, Jesus was there, the same age I was, and we hugged each other, that's how I survived, I stopped counting at well over 200. This continued, without interruption until I was 2, then I was baptized into the cult, I'll describe the ritual in detail this once, so you will know, what 3,4,or 5, nights of each week and the entire month of October was like, from Halloween when I was 2, until I left at 18. They had a goat there, that they killed, and then poured the blood over my head, and over all the two year olds heads that were being baptized. They chanted, hail satan, and said "this daughter of our leader is now yours her life is consecrated to you" My palms of my hands and my knees, were cut with knives with satanic symbols, as they continued to chant. The children including myself, were all forced to drink a small amount of the blood of the goat. Then we were all tied down onto steel pentagrams, and the adults who outnumbered us 2 to 1, took turns raping us. They untied the children who were 9 and older, and forced them to rape us younger ones, I remember, my brother, 11 years old, standing up to them, and saying "No" twice, for each "No" he got 10 lashes with a 6 ft long horsewhip from the first that I remember, my youngest brother was that brave, and tried to protect me and the others. I pray that he may find Jesus in all His Loving Fullness, my brother is currently a so called Christmas/Easter Catholic. Colonel Aquino was there, and chose me for later on, as he did some children at other baptisms I witnessed when I was older. That’s how I knew that he chose certain children for himself, certainly didn’t know it at two. He did nothing else at that time. Then the older children were tied down again, and they closed the ritual by forcing all of us to chant in praise of satan, even that young, I can remember hating it. Then they untied us, and dressed us all in our black cloaks, it was over. The basement where we were, was next to a graveyard, with open fields all around us, the house had been deserted for years, so even if we screamed, no one heard us. Of course I found this out much later, I don't remember all that from being 2. The walls were all painted black, with crucifixes hanging upside down, and black candles providing light. I endured deprivation of food and water, chained so I couldn't move and bestiality as part of the cult from the ages of 2-18. The deprivation of food and water was like this: Being in a basement room all alone, smells of stale sweat and fear, old bread and flat water. I am 8, and have been told I don't deserve food, water or people, because I refused to do a cult ritual. Sometimes when I refused I would be just knocked unconscious and used anyway... but this is what happened half the time. I haven't had any food except one slice of stale bread in 6 hours. I've had only 1 glass of warm water in that time, both at the very beginning. They said the only reason I got that bit of food and water was to make me hungry and thirsty for more, and that I wouldn't get anymore until they gave it to me. The door is locked, and I am handcuffed, and leg cuffed to the floor, in such a way that I cannot move, and cannot after all this time, feel my hands and feet in the cuffs. Cold, just in my thin undershirt and panties. No pillow or mattress, just the bare floor. Exhausted, I try to sleep. After what seems like forever, they come in, and release me. They throw me another stale slice of bed, and warm glass of water. I eat and drink desperately, in case they take it away. They tell me it's been 10 hours, and soon I can go home. Without warning they chloroform me. When I come to, I'm in my dad's big van, and we are on the way home. Finally it is over. Longest time is when I was 16 -- 2 days, must have been on the weekend or they would have missed me at school. I was told each time, how long I was there, as a warning not to rebel in future, or just so they could tell me to be cruel with my becoming hungry after all the time I was in there and suffered. The bestiality was like this: I don't know how old I was, it looks like 2 or 3, and kept happening until I was 17, 18. They brought in male dogs who were all excited because they had just been with female dogs in heat, and thought it was so exciting to watch girls and boy dogs have sex with each other, worst of it was my dad and the other men playing with themselves in excitement. Endured live burials with and without biting spiders being thrown into the coffin from the age of 4-18. This is what the live burials were like: There is a deep hole in the ground, and what looks like a coffin beside it They have this big ceremony, of "making love to me", saying it's the last time, about ten adults from the cult, including my dad Then they put me in the thing that looks like a coffin, nail down the lid, and put me in the ground, I black out from sheer fright, when I come to, they are digging me out, they are laughing as they are digging, saying "She isn't dead after all, we made a mistake" Ugh, my so called mom was there too, I thought she loved me, and she didn't even try to stop them, she laughed too. I was 9. Sometimes they poured in these horrible brown spiders the shape of black widows, which would bite me, sometimes not. When I was 6, they sacrificed a goat, as the wedding offering, and the blood was their version of holy water. The wedding itself was to satan, or someone dressed up like him, with horns, pitchfork and tail then we had wedding wine, aka the blood of the goat, and the whole thing was a black mass mockery of the Catholic wedding mass, then we had our "honeymoon" being raped three times by our supposed new husband satan, and being told that now we could never be saved by anyone, because we belonged totally to him now. When I was 10, the happy anniversary was similar, they had another black mass to celebrate, and said that since we had been married to him for 4 long years, we would never be free, and if we got free of him and remembered, we would have to commit suicide, then we were raped again 3 times by the same cult member dressed the same way. If they wanted to have a Black Mass, they would have blood as a parody of holy water, and eat raw meat, as a parody of the Eucharist. I witnessed/was forced to participate in 17 murders in 16 years, 4 of them were tests, to see who was to be the next leader, they were drownings, if you lived, you were supposed to be the leader, if you died, oh well, too bad. 4, 12 and 16, with 2 happening at 12. God Bless Jasmine, Robert, Ben, and Jonathan, I know they are in the arms of Jesus. God had other plans for me, I survived the tests that killed them. The one beautiful thing about those horrid tests was Heaven I first wound up there when I was 4… the flowers are so beautiful when the Holy Spirit blows in Heaven, they make music like wind chimes, and yet not wind chimes – closest sound on Earth remotely like it is wind chimes – but not really like them very much at all. All the colors are so much more vivid there, and everything is so much more beautiful than down here. I didn’t want to come back here to Earth, but I was told it was not yet my time, because later on I would have poetry to write for Him. When I was 5, a cult member got angry, at Claire, my secret best friend in the cult, also 5. She said, "No" and he started choking her to make her submit, it was a common method of controlling us, and he went too far, and killed her in rage. We were all supposed to hate and mistrust each other. Beginning at age 10, until age 17, I was forced to participate in killing too many goats to count, and 9 children who refused to kill. We all get in a car and go to the airport, there aren't too many of us, the so-called dad, me, and some other kids who passed the test of drowning without dying to see who would be the next leaders of the cult. We go to Stonehenge -- we are 10, but some of the other outside kids are up to 18, almost ready to be youth leaders. There are many goats in the circle, and we are all told to lay hands on them one at a time, so we do, there are about 20 that get touched, and 30 that don't get touched. The ones that we touched, we now find out are the ones that will die, we are each given a knife to kill the ones we selected. I don't want to -- they are innocent and harmless, just like me, why should I kill? But I see what happens to the kid who refuses to kill, my so-called dad takes his knife and kills him. So I do what I have to do, not liking it at all, it's part of leader training, we have to be able to kill, if we are to lead. The way we killed the goats, and the kids who refused to kill -- we were each given a knife, and an adult cult member would hold the knife with us, helping us to slit the throats of the goats and the kids. What hurts most is that I feel like a cowardly murderer, I killed 9 kids, and more goats than I can count... it's hard to feel like I deserve to live -- why am I not on death row? It goes on once a year, until I turn 17, by then we have been killing the younger ones who refuse to kill since we were 15 -- we are murderers of goats and children -- we don't deserve to live. Those were the nights in that month every year from ages 10-17 that we spent at Stonehenge, during the day my so-called dad sold me for alcohol to the highest bidder to anyone willing to travel to England from other parts of Europe. I spent my nights in the rituals, and my days chained in a drafty old house, waiting for the tricks who bought me from my so-called dad. I spent a month of every year like that. Also during this time, from ages 10-17, Colonel Aquino, that true monster, whom I met first at age two– During the day, after the kill or be killed rituals, Aquino conducted his experiments with electricity, water, and electrodes, to measure our responses body wide to the pain of shock, and needles or sharp pointed wooden stakes, under fingernails and toenails to measure our responses to pain under torture. I am so clinical describing it at those ages because he’d be calmly dictating his notes on our responses as we were being tortured, he’d pause only if we screamed particularly loudly, and he couldn’t hear himself think. At age 11, I witnessed a man being killed -- We are 11, someone's coming down the stairs, it's a big man. We shrink, but he says "What's going on here, all these kids tied up, I'm going to get the police, you are all sick." We look at him in wonder a grown up who sees this as wrong? This is new! We don't know how he came, but hope he can help. 20 adults against one, hopeless. our so called dad catches him around the ankles with one slash of his long horsewhip, and he goes down hard. It's close to Easter, so they take him, knocked out from the fall, and nail him with a nail gun to a big upside down cross in the corner. They gag him, as he starts waking up, and put the cross into a hole in the floor that holds it up. The so called dad tortures him with lashes from the horsewhip, until he dies, besides the nails in his hands and feet, there is a tight rope around his neck, so whenever he gets knocked out from the torture, it chokes him. He could have saved us! We saw this, and lost all hope. The other two murders were my dear children, that my Dad ordered sacrificed as to satan. I was 17 and 18, Beth when I was 17, and Keith when I was 18 I became pregnant, and in my eight month for both, I was knocked out with ether, which they used a lot of, tied down in a pentagram, and my babies taken out in a crude c-section. Then their throats were slit right before my eyes. I've never had any other children. I wasn't quite as brave as my brother, I only resisted in the cult from the age of 15, on, beginning with the baptism of my youngest nephew, where I only took one set of 10 lashes, that day I feel I had no courage, the rest of the time, I took 2 sets it was always with either a 3 foot plastic coated chain, or a 6 ft horsewhip in the cult. My Dad when he was very angry at us for something, would hit us with either a 3 ft plastic coated chain or 6 ft horsewhip, otherwise it was bare hands, or anything he could get his hands on. The bravest thing I feel I ever did, was I was 18 in the cult, I threw off my black cloak, and said to them all, looking my Dad straight between the eyes "You can kill me, but I won't be part of this cult that hurts people." and walked away, I've never looked back. It was a few months after Keith was killed, that I did this. Besides what was happening in the cult, my Dad was and is an alcoholic, and to get extra money for his drinking, forced me to be a child prostitute and porn star, I resisted from the age of 4 on, and wound up being pushed down more sets of stairs then I care to remember. Then my Dad would find out I'd been bad, and I'd get whipped at home. The other thing that was happening to me from the ages of 2-18, which I remembered around 2002, was being sexually abused by Catholic priests, and I’ll describe a memory just this once so you will know what used to happen to me once, twice or three times a month, when I was at church. I am 6, and we are at church. After Mass the priest calls me and Mom. He says to Mom "You have such a beautiful daughter, so well behaved, may I take her to the sacristy and give her a special blessing?" Mom, beaming with pride says, "Of course Father." He takes me to the back, I don’t really want to go, I know what’s coming. He strips me down very quickly and wasting no time lies me on my stomach and rapes me anally. Under his breath he says to himself "It’s not really sexual sin, I didn’t go through the front, I went through the back" Out loud he says "Your Mother will never believe you if you tell and God is so pleased that we loved each other if you tell, you’ll go straight to Hell" He tells me to hurry up and get dressed, just as I am dressed Mom comes, we go home, and it’s over. It hurt so much, but I never did tell. Nearly all of the times priests abused me, it was as I have just described to you, they didn’t seem to think that they were sinning, if they did it to my rear end, and they all thought that God was pleased with them, because we were loving one another, as God has called us to love one another. I struggled for a long time, remaining Catholic, but always fearful in church, and most of the time unable to go, and starving for weekly Christian fellowship in a church. Finally, Sept 14, 2003, I abandoned the struggle, and asked God to show me a church where I could worship Him without fear, and so I now worship in the United Church of Canada, and November 30, 2003, I reaffirmed my faith in Christ in a special ceremony with them. I’m full of joy when I see the church, and participate in the services there, it’s such a warm and loving community. So I know you are all saying, "How is she overcoming, how is she obtaining the victory in Christ?" Jesus used 12 years of counselling, and He is still touching me with His Healing Hands, for I have just found out, that I need to do the work of beginning a healing journey to deal with the ancestral roots from my family tree. Many of my memories, and much of my childhood I do feel healed from and victorious. my daily struggle to be free is, most of the time, just routine, some days I'm strong or very strong, but on my bad days, when I struggle to, or feel I can't fight against all of it, God help me. What I grew up in, they not only told me I was worthless in 3 ways – 1. that I was the worthless spawn of satan, 2. that I was a worthless slut and better get used to making my living that way, and 3 just that I was a worthless human being, My abusers used programming, mind control, brainwashing, under severe torture to try and turn me into an obedient robot who would never leave the cult, and if I did and remembered, suicide triggers were there in place, if those didn't work, they had crazy triggers (Trying to make me think I was crazy, and needed to check into a mental institution), where they could, as "concerned family", check you out to take care of you, and have you back in the cult quickly, for more Hell. My most painful programming to overcome is, the self-mutilation addiction programming, I have had months free of it, never hit a year yet. The lie I was told was “No one can love you, not even God – you are the evil spawn of satan and you have to be punished for your sins to go to Heaven – no one can do it for you so you must do if yourself. I’ve learned to remember Christ on the Cross and that my sins were paid in full by Jesus. I've had to be, and continue to have to be, very strong, but as I heal and grow, this adult woman named Kerri is becoming more and more a normal human being. Know there is nothing to fear from me, miraculously, God has made me a warm compassionate person, very giving and very loving. Except towards myself, but that's nothing to do with God, I'm learning. I accepted Jesus as my personal Saviour and Lord, May 16, 1986, when I was 20. I started remembering everything at 21, in bits and pieces, that I slowly healed from. I didn't remember the cult stuff until 1995, God is merciful, and His Timing is perfect, if I'd remembered everything all at once, I know I would have either committed suicide, or gone insane. 70% to 90% of all cult survivors do either one, in the first year of remembering. So Jesus truly has a purpose for my life. I've known 17 years. I don't think it's a coincidence, that just as I was starting to remember the worst memories of my life, in the spring of 1995, I learned about the Live-In retreat, and attended my first Live-In June 2-4, 1995. Over the past almost 17 years, God has used the Live-In to miraculously heal me, and comfort me of the pain of the past. He's also used it to physically heal me, at healing masses, and in the Live In itself. Just before I began to work again, (I was on welfare for 3 and a half years) I went to this healing mass where there were 3 priests, and they talked about all these different joints that were being healed, I raised my hand for almost every joint they mentioned, and was fully healed from fibromyalgia, never a twinge or a moment of morning stiffness or anything since. Then on the day before my birthday, I was feeling sorry for myself, because I had no money to celebrate with, and wouldn't be getting a dinner out or gifts. I went to a healing mass, with a bad migraine headache, and was prayed over. I rested in the Holy Spirit, and when I got up, my headache was gone, and I’ve never had another one. God's way of telling me, you don't need money to get a gift for your birthday. My Brothers in Christ, from my Live-In Retreats, and prayer meetings, God Bless them, they taught me that not every man is like my father, that it was safe to be around some men. Through this I was able to discover the Miracle of My Heavenly Father's Love, I went from God being just as cruel and frightening as my Dad, only with limitless power to hurt, to being His little 5 or 6 year old Daughter who cuddles in His Lap with complete trust, to share joys, sorrows, whatever. That is a great miracle. Praise Jesus! I also learned that priests were safe through Father Ignatius Tran, who saved my life the Saturday of my first Live-In, through confession, when I was ready to commit suicide because I thought I couldn't be forgiven for abusing my niece in the cult. Later, I met Father Claire Watrin, the founder of the Live-In retreat movement, and his kindness and gentleness to me, did a great deal to heal the hurt that was done to me as a child. Lastly, I've come full circle, at the October 2004 Live-In, Father Ian McRae heard my confession that I had left the Catholic Church, and joined the United Church of Canada because of what happened to me as a child. His compassion, and in particular, his saying the words that still haunt me "What a terrible thing to happen to a little girl" with tears in his eyes, broke the power of the lies I had been told and had believed as a child, that it was God's Will I was hurt, and that every priest believed that. It's been a process of growing, and changing, I've been set free of my overeating of sweets addiction, I still struggle with 2 others, but have had months of freedom for both. Haven’t hit a year yet. I almost have a year on my self-mutilation addiction – July 5, 2012 will be a year for that one, and I’m determined to maintain my sobriety for life. The other one is too shameful and embarrassing to name. I keep growing in knowledge of His Love for me, and the Power found in the Name of Jesus, which all Christians can have, to defeat the enemy. The enemy often attacks me, but I just send Jesus to answer the door, most of the time, and he turns tail and runs away. There are times when my past still troubles me, with new memories; I've learnt to give them immediately to Jesus. I do ask you all to keep me in your prayers, there are times when the enemy is unrelenting, and I struggle mightily, he wants me back, he will never get me, but the struggle gets exhausting, and of course at times I do fall in defeat and confusion, so I ask to be part of your prayers often. God Bless You All, and remember, if you forget this old gal, who loves ya, you have lost nothing, if you forget Jesus who loves ya so much, you have lost everything, so always abide in His Love, Peace be with you all.

The Prairie Mail

Sunday, May 27, 2012

My Testimony May 2012 new update Careful Graphic Read With Care Survivor Friends!!

Wednesday, March 21, 2012

A Word From The Lord

Wednesday, February 29, 2012

Waiting By The Threshold Of Our Hearts

Friday, March 5, 2010

Face Of The Trinity

A Message For The Precious Daughters Of King Jesus

One With All His Creation

Monday, February 1, 2010

Children Flying Free, My New Poem!!

Tweet

Follow Me On Twitter

Followers

Blog Archive

About Me