Author Archives: Clara Hinton

Married to a Pedophile: The Most Unique Gift — Better Than Pinterest!

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Pinterest is the big craze right now, and I admit that I love visiting there, too.  Fashion, cooking, and DIY crafts, and my favorite of all — flowers!  Anything to do with flowers brightens up my day!

Ten years into our marriage, many years before anyone ever heard of Pinterest, John was a person who was “creative” with his gifts.  We didn’t have much money at all for gift-giving with our growing family, so we often did things like searched at auctions for a piece of furniture, sanded it, and stained it and that was a “together” gift.  I like that — a lot!  Those were the kinds of gifts that had meaning and purpose!

I’m going to tell you about a gift that I received from John that is the most unique gift ever, and I feel fairly safe in saying that it was a one-of-a-kind never to be duplicated!

If you are new to this blog, I would strongly suggest you begin reading here in order to get the complete meaning of John’s gifts, his planning strategies for gifts, and to understand more completely the thought processes of this man who was a preacher, teacher, father, husband, insurance salesman, outdoorsman, and child molester.  Yes, I did say child molester.  For almost forty years (while we were married) John hid a very dark secret from me and countless others.  He had begun molesting children at the age of fourteen and continued to do so until his arrest and conviction at age sixty-three.

Let me give a little bit of background to set the stage for this particular gift — a Mother’s Day gift.  I was eleven days away from the due date of delivering my sixth child on Mother’s Day.  My oldest daughter was now ten, and following her birth I now had five healthy, active little boys — stair steppers.  They were fireballs full of energy, and I thank God for that!

We had just moved from the church parsonage to our home in the country that we were renting.  We finally had a yard — a BIG yard for the kids to play in, and the house was far more than I could have ever asked for.  It was lovely, and I remain living there to this day.

On this particular Sunday morning, I got up and got the younger kids ready for church while the older ones got dressed and ready for Sunday School.  John was up at his usual time of 4:30 a.m. to study his lesson, but on this day he was dressed and showered early and was outside doing something.  He popped his head into the kitchen to ask the three oldest kids to come outside with him, and that’s when my heart began racing.  I was hoping upon all hope that he had somehow managed to get me a used rocking chair — the one we had looked at when we went to a second-hand shop.  I fell in love with that rocker immediately, and my heart was dancing as I imagined rocking my new baby, in our new home, in that rocking chair!

solid-wood-rocking-chair-furniture-design-924x1024I began putting the ham for lunch into the oven.  I had already made the potatoes and salad.  But, I didn’t make dessert this particular Sunday.  Okay, I admit it.  I was hoping that John would have bought a cake for dessert.  Being this far along in my pregnancy, I didn’t feel much like cooking!  And, it was Mother’s Day!  I would have loved a day off from cooking!

The three older kids came running inside all out of breath!  “Mom!  Dad said to sit down in the livingroom.  We have a Mother’s Day gift for you, and it’s gonna be great!  Just wait until you see it!”

Can you feel my heart racing as you’re reading this?  Honestly, I was so excited I could hardly contain myself.  I was feeling so special — so blessed.  It was Sunday — a beautiful day to begin with, plus it was Mother’s Day.  And, here I was blessed with so many beautiful children, and another one about to be born.  And, now this —– a surprise gift (that I was still praying would be that rocking chair)!

“Close your eyes, Mom!  No peeking!  Dad is finishing wrapping the gift and he wants all of us around you when you open it so he can take a picture.”

Can I just say that I was dying from the anticipation?  This was about to be the happiest day of my life!  I knew it!  I absolutely knew it!  I sat in the chair and gathered the kids around me.  I even dabbed on some lipstick for the picture about to be taken.  Every pregnant mom wants to look her best for a picture!

John called for the three oldest kids to come get the gift.  “The gift is ready for Mother!  You can come get it now!”

wrapped gift“Open your eyes, Mom!  It’s time to open your gift!”

Ahhhh….ohhh…..I sighed with so much joy.  The box was wrapped beautifully.  I knew it wasn’t the rocking chair, but who cared?  I knew this lovely surprise had been chosen just for me and that’s all that mattered.

I took my time untying the ribbons as the kids were jumping up and down with excitement yelling, “Open it faster!  C’mon, faster, Mom!”

Finally, it was time to lift the lid to the box, and I could feel the happy, thankful tears begin to stream from my emotional face.  Maybe this was the outfit the baby would wear home from the hospital.  Maybe it was a lovely blouse for me to wear home from the hospital.  No, maybe this was a delicious Mother’s Day cake with fluffy white frosting with “I love you” written across it.

I smiled softly at John as he stood nearby with the camera in his hand to capture this moment for us as a keepsake that we would have forever!

It was time to reveal the gift!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 

On Sunday, May 10, 1981 part of my heart died when I lifted the lid of that box.  And, that part of my heart will forever remain dead. There is nothing or no one that could ever bring life back to the part of me that died that Mother’s Day morning.

Sitting inside of a beautifully wrapped box amid pure white tissue paper was the skull of an animal.  Inside of the eye sockets of that skull John had placed purple wildflowers that he picked in the yard that morning.  Because of the heat and humidity of that mid-May morning, the skull attracted flies and bugs.  When the lid to the box was lifted, those bugs swarmed at my face.

I will never, ever forget that moment — ever.  I cannot explain in human terms how much that hurt.  I could never express to you the pain I felt that morning.  I sat trance-like as the kids jumped up and down yelling, “Ewww…..where’d you find this skull, Dad? Is it a dead dog?  A fox?  A possum?  What is it, Dad?”

Dog_SkullThe kids were young.  A skull is exciting to a little boy, and I had five very excited little boys.  They thought it was a really “cool” gift that their dad got me.  How would they know any different?

 I remember looking up at John and he had the most horrifying sneer on his face — almost scary.  He enjoyed seeing me hurt.  I could feel it.  I saw it on his face.  And, I knew on that day in May that I no longer loved this man with all of my being.  This time the pain had gone too deep.  He cut out a piece of my heart, stomped on it, and killed it.  He killed part of my spirit that day and that part of my heart has never come back to life.

The ride to church was quiet on that Sunday, Mother’s Day morning.  I looked out the car window and softly cried.  I wanted to scream and sob and punch in a wall but I held a tissue over my mouth and muffled my voice so the kids wouldn’t hear me crying. I didn’t want them telling everyone at church that I had been crying.

Somehow, I prayed to God that it was all a big, ugly joke.  I prayed that when we went home there would miraculously be the rocking chair sitting in the middle of the room.  Of course you and I know that wasn’t so.  My gift was a rotting skull with flies flying from the eye sockets.  And, I knew from that moment on that I was nothing more than a convenience for John.  Love doesn’t hurt like that.  Love would never hurt like that!

It was years until I shared that story with a counselor and I remember the odd look on her face.  She simply said, “Maybe he has a personality disorder.”  And, it was dismissed.  That left me feeling a bit crazy.  Maybe I was overly emotional because of the pregnancy on that particular day.  Maybe it was just meant to be a funny kind of joke. Victims of abuse always have a thousand reasons why it’s always their fault.  Victims of abuse never want to hold the abuser accountable.  Victims feel ashamed and powerless. 

The red flags of manipulation and control that are part of a practicing pedophile’s profile were there!  The kids thought their dad was the absolute best!  He told funny stories that made them laugh so hard they would cry.  He loved playing basketball with them.  He built campfires and told scary stories.  He took them on nature hikes.  He was, in their words, “the best dad in the world.”

I was the one who disciplined.  I was the one who made them pick up their dirty laundry, clear away their dinner plates, make their beds.  I was the mean mother who lost her temper and was never fun.  I was the cranky one.  The one who didn’t have a sense of humor.

John was building up his airtight support system!  He used “shock” methods in front of the kids to desensitize them to the wrong he was doing to me, and later on to the children in the community.  Why would his kids ever believe wrong about their dad who was their hero?  Besides, I was the perfect enabler.  I didn’t call him on the carpet for things such as the skull gift, so they didn’t really see anything too wrong with that. I didn’t speak badly of John to the kids.  In fact, this story never got out.  Isn’t it amazing how this was an “understood” thing that none of us would talk about in public?  As young as the kids were nobody told them not to say anything at church.  And, believe me, tons of people were asking me what I got for Mother’s Day.  I just said through dripping eyes, “John got me a special surprise.”  And, their response — “You’re the luckiest woman I know!  My husband would never get me anything for Mother’s Day — not even a card!”  If only they had known………..

Pedophiles who molest children are liars.  They manipulate.  They control.  They build a wall of support so that nobody — and I mean nobody — would ever suspect them of molesting a child! John was loved and adored by his children.  He was cherished by the people of the church where he served as minister.  He was a servant to people in the community.  He went out of his way to show love to others.  He was a practicing pedophile and he was masterful at grooming his victims! 

Memorize this quote  and keep saying it until you really understand and believe it:   After a molester is exposed, it is common for adults to say things like, “He was the last guy I would suspect to do something like this.” Molesters become friends to adults, helping them out, being friendly and nice, and just doing things that friends would do. They don’t do this out of kindness; they do this to get to your children. 

 

For the sake of the children, let’s speak out!  It’s time to bring these actions to a halt! 

 

Thank you so much for your comments, for following along with this blog, and for continuing to share it with many!  Be sure to put your email where it says to “subscribe” if you want to receive a brief notification of each blog entry.  I assure you that you will not want to miss even one of these posts.

Again, thank you!  Together we are making a difference!

 

 

Married to a Pedophile: “The Top Ten List of Most Desired Men”

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If I had a dime for every time I was told how lucky I was to be married to John, I’d probably have a stack of dimes a mile high.  He was most definitely on the “top ten list of most desired men.”    He was charming.  He was kind.  He had good manners.  And, he did things that were romantic.  But, there’s just one little downside to this.  That’s what other people saw.  I know the inside scoop, and it wasn’t quite what met the public eye.

This story is my story about what it was like to be married for almost forty years to a man who molested children.  I didn’t have a clue of this dark side of his life.  I did, however, see odd behavior.  I knew the pain of emotional abuse.  I understood what it meant to be so controlled by someone who I found myself asking permission to be   excused  from a room if I had to go get a drink of water  in the kitchen.

I began writing this blog as a means to educate others of the extreme manipulative power a pedophile holds over his victims.  Not only does the pedophile groom the children he chooses to molest, but there is also a very targeted grooming of adults, too.  It is the molester’s goal to have such an air-tight wall of trust built that absolutely nobody would ever suspect he is committing such harmful, evil actions.

I want you to get deep inside the mind of a pedophile so that you can see it — really see just how controlling they are.  I want you to understand without a doubt just how this manipulation works.  I want you to take some deep breaths and live with me through this journey so that you can understand clearly enough to protect yourself and your children from the harmful actions of pedophiles.

John and I had a difficult marriage from the very beginning, and there’s no doubt about that.  He didn’t seem to see it that way, though.  He would often apologize for hurting me, but his eyes would never look at me when he tried to apologize.  He would divert his eyes to the side of me, but he’d never look straight into my eyes, and that always bothered me.  In fact, I cried time and time again begging him to simply look at me.  Hold my hand and look at me when he talked.

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He didn’t.  Instead, he’d stare as though he was in some kind of strange trance and mutter the same words time and time again, “I’m really sorry I hurt you.  I’ll try to do better.  I’ll really try.”

The biggest thing that made me cry was the way he treated me — more like the way he “didn’t” treat me.  He could go for days on end without talking to me or touching me.  After a sobbing session, all I ever wanted was for him to come hold me close.  In fact, I’d often cry saying, “Can’t you just hug me?  You make me feel like I’m poison!  I feel like I have some kind of sickness and you don’t want to be near me.  I just want you to hold me.  Hug me.  Touch me.”  Those words seemed to be foreign to him. John would look at me with hollow eyes — like he had no clue what I was talking about.

Our fifth year anniversary was coming up and I dreaded it.  People from church were asking, “Are you doing something special to celebrate?  Where are you going?  Do you want me to babysit the kids for the night?  What does John have planned for you?  I know it will be something wonderful!”

Let’s just say that our anniversary was different — far, far different than I expected.  April 18 fell on a Wednesday that year — and of course we had bible study that evening, so there was nothing planned.  I kept hoping that John would have a surprise date night planned.  It would be so nice to go out — just the two of us — and be like a young couple in love again!

Saturday came, and I was losing hope.  There was nothing.  Not even a card.  I had done my usual gift shopping.  Don’t tell me why except I love to give gifts.  I still love to give gifts, and I hope I always will!  I bought John a new suit, shirt, and tie.  He wore dress clothes six days a week, and he absolutely hated going shopping (can you believe we only went Christmas shopping together one time in our entire married lives?????).   All I wanted was a simple card.  Okay, maybe a long-stemmed red rose, too.  I think that would have been so romantic! And, yes, I even told John what I wanted.  Because he was a list-maker and lived by his lists, his words to me, “Tell me what to get, and I’ll get it.  Tell me what to do and I’ll do it.  But, don’t expect me to be a mind reader.”

I was crushed by the time Saturday evening rolled around and there was no card.  And, no date night.  No rose.  Five years of marriage and no kind of special recognition.  That hurt.

I knew something was brewing, though.  He was on the phone whispering for two days.  And, he kept going into the church auditorium from our livingroom (remember that we lived in the parsonage).  He seemed especially happy on Sunday morning — an excited kind of happy, and that usually meant one thing.  He had some kind of crazy antic up his sleeve for a sermon and I dreaded that.  I never knew if he was going to throw a glass of water into the audience, jump on the pew to bring home a point, or cry.  He was getting good at turning on the waterworks while preaching and I’m going to be honest with you.  It seemed so fake to me that it was hard to handle.

On this morning, though, the sermon was different.  It was all about honoring women.  Interesting for a man who showed so much dishonor in his own home! He quoted scripture after scripture and I don’t think there was a woman in the audience who wasn’t poking her husband in the ribs as if to say, “Are you listening to what John is saying?  This is how you’re supposed to treat me!”

As for me — a felt hollow inside.  I knew the real John.  I knew the John who wasn’t that same person who adored his wife with all of his heart and who shared mutual respect and adoration of her.  His words stung and I could feel the tears falling from my eyes.

At the close of his sermon, instead of saying the usual words of asking if there were those who wanted to give their lives to Christ in baptism, John began walking down the aisle towards me.  He looked over his shoulder and simply said, “Now, Ruth!”

Suddenly, there was love music filling the air of the auditorium, and my sister walked out from behind the baptistry door with a package, and came and handed it to John.  I could tell she was embarrassed and nervous.  He took this box with everyone in the auditorium watching his every move.

He walked up to me, got down on a knee, opened up the box, and handed me the most beautiful bouquet of roses ever!  I was stunned!!!  Never had he done anything like this ever before!!  “Happy anniversary to the one and only person I will ever love!” 

Red Roses

Please pay close attention!  Do you see what was being done?  This was such a show!  What should have been a simple act of love and kindness between a husband and wife turned into a big elaborate show for the entire church to see!  This wasn’t a moment between the two of us.  It was a staged act that would forever seal the love and adoration of John with the women of the church — the mothers of the children!

John about drove my sister crazy, she later told me.  That entire week, he had her practicing how she would hide behind the baptistry and pop out at the just right time when he said the right word.  She was the one who went to pick up the roses and hid them.  He used her to gain her trust, too.  She thought this was the most romantic thing she’d ever witnessed — just like something out of a love novel.

Trust me when I say that when we stepped through the door into our livingroom that Sunday afternoon the romance was all over.  John sat back in his chair while I fixed lunch, he ate, and then he basked in the sunshine of his day.  Mission accomplished!

For years after that grand event, women would talk to me about how I was the luckiest person they knew to have such a caring, loving husband.  Inside, I died a little more each time they said this.  If only they knew!  If only they knew what really went on inside our marriage.  How many times I went to bed sobbing because of the hurtful things John said.  “Don’t rub your hammerhead toes up against me.  That’s disgusting.  Don’t hug me.  I can’t stand that feeling — it’s too smothering.”  And, he would always — always — put his back to me when we went to bed!  He made it very clear that he was shunning me!

I was like a puppy craving some affection. John was now a traveling insurance salesman so I rarely got to see him at all during the week.  Most of the time I only got to see him on Friday nights, a bit on Saturday, and Sundays while he was preaching.  It was a lonely, lonely life, but he was shining!  Not only shining, but he was thriving!  He was a happy, happy man — freedom, no accountability, a church that loved him, kids that loved him, a community that was growing to love him.  But, his wife?  Not so much.  But never would I tell.  Never.  Why?  Because deep down I still felt it was my Christian duty to uphold him in whatever he did.  I felt I should never question him or make his life uncomfortable.  I wanted to be the best wife and mother I could be and I thought that by keeping quiet, by pretending to be happy, by accepting the crumbs of time he gave me that one day — one day he really and truly would want to do the thing that I most wanted out of our marriage.  I wanted him to enjoy spending time with me! 

I can see now how John set the stage for molesting children.  I can see how me made certain nobody would ever question his motives or actions when around children.  I can see how the abuse was able to continue!

Child molesters do something called grooming. Grooming is how a predator develops a friendship with the child, creating a bond, preparing them for sexual assault. Predators start by choosing the parents. They will push the boundaries of acceptable behavior to test parents and see if they can take advantage of them. They literally seduce the parents into allowing them access to their children. By charming parents and gaining their trust, the predator gains access to the family and is not suspected of inappropriate behavior. 

This quote is taken from NotWithMyChild.Org .  Pay attention to the words.  Examine what is going on in your own life.  Think.  Watch.  Listen.  Pay attention!!!!  Please, for the sake of the children pay attention!  If it doesn’t feel right, then it probably isn’t!!!  Abuse is never right — not emotional abuse.  Not physical abuse!  Not spiritual abuse!  Abuse hurts.  It leaves wounds cause a lifetime of pain!

Be smart!  Look for the red flags that are waving and don’t allow the abuse to continue.  And, please…………..if you suspect that you are being set up or your child is being targeted, get out of that situation fast!  Confront the person.  Set boundaries and stick to them.  Grooming is the first and most important phase of molesting.  Once you’re in the trap, you may never get out!

Love,

Clara

Married to a Pedophile: Strange Movies of Naked Children!

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Thank you for visiting this blog once again!  We are doing it — we really, really are making a difference in the lives of children.  How do I know?  Because every day I receive emails telling me so!  And, sadly, I’m finding out that my story of being married to a practicing pedophile for almost forty years (and not knowing it) isn’t all that unique.  Each and every day I’m getting messages and emails saying, “If I didn’t know better I’d think that was a story from my own life!”    That makes me sad, but it also makes me know that sharing my life story with you is the right thing to do.  You are becoming empowered and enlightened just a bit more every day.  And, that means children are becoming a bit safer every day!

If you’re new to this blog, I suggest you begin reading here.  Seeing how a pedophile’s mind works is critical to understanding how a pedophile can molest children while continuing to charm all those around. Pedophiles are loved and trusted and they come off as genuinely caring people.  They count on us believing them and never questioning them, and it’s time we wise up and begin asking the hard questions.  For the safety of our children, we must ask questions — always!!!

Let’s pick up the story by talking about a typical day in the Hinton household.  To all people  we looked like a normal, nice, loving family.  And, we were — except for the odd behavior that was annoying, inexplainable,  and hurtful at times.  By now we had four children, and John was great with the kids.  He loved to spend time with them doing arts and crafts, hiking, finding salamanders, and anything that had to do with nature.  He loved the outdoors and would always have a fun Saturday planned for the kids.

At this time in our lives, it became necessary for John to take on a second job.  The  money he made preaching wasn’t enough to cover things like health insurance and other expenses that go along with having kids.  So, I suggested John take on a part-time job in a local store close to home.  He balked at that idea, though, saying, “I’ll never work where I have to punch a time clock!  Never!”  So, he researched and came up with the idea of selling insurance.  I argued with him about that saying that he’d be away too much, but he stood firm.  Once he made a decision it stuck.

I often referred to John as “the quiet mule.”  He never raised his voice, but once he made a decision that’s how it was.  Nothing could make him change his mind.  So, he studied hard and became an insurance salesman/preacher.

One of the saddest things we had to deal with as a family was John being away long, long hours — many times until midnight (which I never understood). Who is buying insurance at midnight? He always had a reason for getting home late, and I always believed him — no questions asked!

One day he announced that he took on a new sales territory and he would be working in Erie and that was too far to travel back and forth every day, so his schedule was changing. He now  stayed away all week — Sunday night he’d leave, and he wouldn’t return until Friday night.  The weeks were long and hard without him but he sure did make certain he made it up to the kids when he was home!  He gave them his undivided attention!

Many nights after a day of hiking, biking, playing basketball, or whatever fun thing the kids wanted to do, he’d just say, “Let’s watch a movie.”  It became a joke with us that we hated when he picked out movies, though.  They were so weird!  We called them the “Ooga booga tribal movies” — many of them had subtitles because they weren’t in English.  And, they all had one theme — naked children running around in the wild.

“Strange.  Strange.  Strange.”  I often mumbled to myself that he had the most bizarre taste in movies I’d ever seen.  Why waste your time watching movies of kids and teens running around naked through the woods grunting noises to the beating of a drum?  It made no sense!  The kids and I would always end up going off to another room while he’d sit glued to the TV watching those odd movies.  They weren’t documentaries, either.  They were low-budget movies that had no plot — just a bunch of kids running around naked with adults in loin cloths and women with their breasts out.  Very weird!

Red flag:  It made no sense!  That in and of itself is a red flag.  What kind of movie was this that John was watching?  Well, I now know it was a movie to stimulate his need for porn.  Keep in mind that porn movies weren’t as readily available back then as they are now, and even if they were, he couldn’t have gotten away with viewing them at home in in the livingroom.  So, he did the next best thing.  He rented movies that he knew had naked children in them!  And, he watched them in front of all of us which made it even more exciting for him, I’m sure. We had no clue what he was doing, but he sure did!

Now it all makes perfect sense!  John was obsessed with seeing young children without clothes!  His eyes couldn’t view children innocently — ever!

In one of my very early posts I mentioned that John told me he was very involved in porn at a young age.  A cousin of his would spend the summers with him and the two of them would pour through porn magazines that they’d steal.  He said the entire summer was nothing but gawking at porn, stealing cartons of cigarettes, and sneaking outside of the window at night when his parents were asleep going down by the river to their favorite hiding spot.

I often wonder if this is where John molested the first little girl?  He told the police in a sworn statement that the first girl he molested was when he was only fourteen.  He was walking on the side of a deserted road.  I get sick thinking about it.  My insides shake and I want to vomit.  I literally want to vomit thinking of the pain and horror he’s caused so many children!

Since all of this has happened in our lives, I’ve been researching for answers as to what makes a pedophile.  I’ve also been researching the effects of porn on the teenage mind, and have come up with some incredible information!  Porn changes the young mind!  It has a lasting effect!  Once a child sees those horrific images they cannot be erased!

Below is a very short video that was part of an extremely informative article I read about the struggles people have trying to “undo” porn in their minds.  Porn isn’t something funny.  Porn isn’t something that “all men have to look at.”  Porn isn’t something that is healthy.  Porn isn’t something that is wholesome and good.

Porn poisons the mind!  Porn degrades that which should be lovely and pure and sacred!  Porn sickens people and it penetrates the mind and soul and causes terrible outcomes.  Porn and sex molesters almost always go hand-in-hand!

Some of you are probably laughing and saying that’s really stupid to get all hyped up thinking John’s “ooga booga movies” were porn.  To his mind, those movies were porn.  He didn’t have the capacity to look at a child unclothed innocently.  When he looks at children he sees them differently.  His mind has been altered.  I believe his mind was altered at a very young age.  His young mind was poisoned by viewing porn.

I’m not at all suggesting that every person that views porn will turn into a pedophile and molest children.  What I am saying is that almost every pedophile is also an active porn user. 

I wish I could say that these were the only “odd” movies John watched during our married lives, but I can’t say that.  Unfortunately a daughter of mine walked in on him several years later while he had hard-core, raw porn on the computer in the house.  What did I do?  Shamefully, nothing.  When I confronted him, he lied as always.  He said, “I’m researching for some sermons on porn.  How can I talk about how sinful it is if I don’t know what’s out there?”

Sadly, I never questioned him again.  I fell for his lies hook, line, and sinker.  I was such a naive fool!  I’ve asked myself a million times over how I fell for that lie!!! 

Pay attention!  If you hear of a person viewing porn in their home, you better keep your kids away!  If you know that your mate is viewing porn, you can be assured that porn leads to other things such as adultery, unnatural sex acts, emotional and physical abuse, and yes, even child molestation!

Pay attention even closer!  Check all home computers often for signs of porn!  Check cameras.  Check video cameras.  Who does this stuff?  The baker.  The church song leader.  The bible school teacher.  The nurse.  The doctor.  Maybe even your husband!

Read this “Profile of a Pedophile” — become acquainted with it!  You might feel out of line at first addressing an issue you see that is “odd”, but do it anyway!  If it doesn’t seem right, then it probably isn’t!  For the sake of the children, please speak out! 

Something as simple as those “naked child movies” were wrong — they were fueling the mind of a craving pedophile!  And, he was satisfying his cravings right while in the presence of his entire family! I shudder to think what movies he watched while in the privacy of hotel rooms while he was away all week long!

Porn and pedophiles go together!  Let me repeat:  Porn and pedophiles go together!  Please, for the sake of our children, let’s speak up and keep our children safe!

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Love,

Clara

Married to a Pedophile: The Camp Jokester Hiding in the Dark!

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Every now and then I remember an event in my life that literally sends shivers up my spine and I’m going to share one of those times with you today.  This isn’t easy to read, but it’s important to read!  For almost forty years I was the wife of a practicing pedophile and didn’t know it.  I saw odd behavior but passed it off as just that — odd.  There were times when I was treated genuinely well in my marriage — like I was loved and adored.  And, there were times when I was neglected and ignored to the point of making me withdraw into a shell of silence and depression.  There was next to zero self-esteem in my life, and all I wanted to do was “be good enough” to be loved by my husband and the father of my children.  There were times when I literally begged for love, and this segment of my life that I’m about to share will give you an even closer inside glimpse into the mind of a man who spent long, hard hours planning his every move that dug him deeper into the dark world of pedophilia.

If you’re new to this blog, I suggest you begin here and continue reading each post so that you can watch how the events in my life unfolded while being married for forty years to a practicing pedophile.  I didn’t know what signs to look for and I’m sharing my story so that you can learn from me just how easily we can be fooled into completely trusting our children with molesters! 

John loved church camp!  It was part of his life growing up as a kid.  In fact, I can say that church camp was one of the biggest highlights of his life.  He wasn’t a big talker with me, but when it came to church camp, he got downright giddy.  He would mark the date of church camp on his calendar a year in advance and make certain that he was a volunteer there every year.  Honestly, I think we could have experienced a death in the family and he would have put church camp above attending the funeral.

In 1975, John had made his usual plans to volunteer his week at church camp.  I’ll be honest with you.  By this time in our married lives, I was so used to staying at home, that the thought never crossed my mind to go with him.  Besides, on this particular year I was sixteen weeks pregnant with our fourth child and I wasn’t having a good pregnancy.  I was experiencing bleeding and the doctor warned me that I should have complete bed rest until the bleeding stopped.

As you can guess, a troubled pregnancy was certainly no reason for John to miss the highlight of his year.  He worked hard for weeks planning games for the talent show at camp.  He was known as the “camp jokester” — the one who kept things lively and hopping at camp.  He was a prankster doing things like hiding in the woods at night and hiding food from the cooks in the mess hall.  He had his reputation as “camp comedian” to live up to, and nothing would stop John from going!

smallmesshallHe also loved to hide out in the woods and set traps that would make the kids trip and fall and then he’d spook them by grabbing them and making them think that they tripped over a snake.  I can’t tell you how animated he got over his week at camp!

cabin in the woodsHe especially loved raiding the girl’s cabins at night, and would tell story after story of peeking inside the cabin windows late at night to scare the girls half to death.

This particular year I really didn’t want John to leave me.  I had three young children, a fourth on the way, and it was a difficult pregnancy.  I literally begged him to stay home from camp that year.  “Please, can’t you stay with me?  I’m so afraid that something will happen to this baby while you’re gone.”

John had a way of looking at me that was a mixture of pity, disgust, and questioning.  He just stared as if to say, “I don’t get it.  Why would I stay home?  Camp is where I need to be.”

And, that’s just where he went.  I remember the morning he packed up the car for camp this particular year.  I sobbed because the bleeding had gotten worse, and I knew once John was at camp I wasn’t allowed to call him.  He said it was a “camp rule.”  In later years I found out there was no such rule.  He could have picked up the camp phone in the kitchen and called me any time he wanted.

I watched the car pull out of the driveway of the church parsonage and then the tears really began to fall.  I had already miscarried once and I knew how horrifying an experience that was and I was petrified that I would have to go through another loss again.  I wanted my husband home with me!

Logic would tell you that I should have said, “You’re not going. This is your baby, and I am your wife.  You’re staying with me! This is where you belong.”  But, when you are already beaten down emotionally, there’s not a lot of fight in you. And, it is humiliating and demoralizing to have to beg for someone to love you.  And, that’s just how it was with me.  Besides, I felt once again that it was my Christian duty to share John with others — that he was a real asset to the campers.  This was supposed to be a fun week for the camp kids, and a part of me felt so ashamed for wanting to keep him home from having this time away that he loved so much.

I’d like to say this was a good week, and all was well, but it was not.  The pregnancy continued to give me problems.  I was scared out of my mind as the bleeding gained momentum. And, I was also too afraid to try to call John to ask him to come home with me.  In looking back now, I can’t believe how afraid of him I was.  I have grown to say that he had a “quiet, complete, empowering control over me” — so hidden from everyone else.  To the public, he was a fun, sweet, kind, man who loved his wife and children with all of his heart.  He was also this man who everyone wanted to be around — he could make you laugh, he was even-tempered and so patient about everything, and he always flavored life with Christ-like love.  At least that how it seemed to others.

John never called home once that week to ask how I was doing or to ask how the kids were doing.  Not one call!  Nothing! Not one word all week long!

When he came back on Saturday, I was not feeling well at all.  In fact, I was now bleeding regularly.  But, I didn’t tell John.  Instead, I listened to him tell his stories of the crazy antics he played at camp.  He told me about one particular preacher that he “razzed” (a word he loved to use) until this preacher actually cried.  John pulled so many pranks that week that he was not invited back!  He laughed himself silly over that!  In his words, “They love me!  I’ll go back next year.  You just wait and see.  That camp can’t survive without me!”

I shudder to think of what he really did while peeking inside of the girl’s cabins at night while they were undressing to get into their pj’s.  I cringe when I think of him hiding out tripping the girls on their way back to the cabins and hearing them shriek in the woods as they thought a snake was wrapping around them!  I’ve cried many tears over stories that were later told to me about him volunteering to walk the young girls to their cabins after the nightly devotionals so that they wouldn’t get afraid of the dark.

John loved church camp because it gave him a world of opportunities to have free access to children!  He was trusted and loved!  While other adults were sitting around the campfire talking together, he was out playing “pranks” on the kids.

Please pay attention!  This is not a joke!  Read this over and over again until it all sinks in!  John is sitting in prison serving a thirty year sentence for molesting children.  He has admitted to molesting children since the age of fourteen.  He studied children, and knew games that they loved to play such as tag and hide-and-seek.  He loved hanging out with  kids far more than the adults.  He got so excited about this, that he could barely tell the stories because he was so giddy about his time with the kids at camp.  That’s not normal behavior for an adult!  That’s really not normal behavior for an adult preacher — a man of God!  That’s not normal behavior for a husband and father!

There were red flags waving everywhere, but nobody caught on!  

Four days after John got home from camp, I lost the baby.  I began hemorrhaging and for a period of twenty-four hours my life was at risk because the bleeding was so bad.  I had emergency surgery.

John did not stay with me at the hospital. He left while I was still in recovery. He said hospitals bothered him and he didn’t like hearing about blood.

My mind was left in a state of flux.  There were so many things I didn’t understand about the man who was my husband.  He said he loved me, but he was so distant.  Around me he was not affectionate, but around children he was absolutely amazing — hugging, holding, snuggling, and cuddling.

I thought there was something so very wrong with me.  It took me forty years to find out it wasn’t me.  It never was about me.  It was all about the children.

Please, please share this blog with others. Take these words to heart.  Do you know someone who displays this type of behavior?  If so, have you confronted this person? Are you living in a situation similar to this?  Do you see “odd” behavior?  Does your gut feeling tell you something is wrong?  Are you being emotionally abused?  Do you know a child who is being abused?  Has your child given you hints that he or she has been abused by someone?  Are you listening to the voices of the children?

Please talk to someone!  Keep this person from your children!  Pedophiles are walking among us.  They are your neighbor, your preacher, your teacher, your mailman, your best friend — maybe even your husband!

For the sake of the children, please let’s be on the alert at all times.  Let’s make it impossible for these predators to gain access to our children!  It’s our responsibility to do all we can to keep our children safe — beginning right now!!!

Love,

Clara

Married to a Pedophile: What Does a Pedophile’s Son Have to Say?

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Dear Friends and Followers of this blog,

My writings come from the perspective of a woman who was married to a practicing pedophile for almost forty years.  I feel ashamed that I was so naive and so uneducated that I didn’t see the signs of what this man what doing the entire time we were married.  By his own admission, he began molesting children when he was only fourteen years old and continued right up until his arrest at age sixty-three!

One of my sons, Jimmy, has a blog educating others on how to keep our homes, churches, daycares, schools, etc. safe from sexual predators such as John (his dad).  Jimmy has written a powerful article on how to keep children safe — and he explains in detail what he is doing to keep his own daughter safe from molesters.  Jimmy corresponds with his dad (who is in prison serving a thirty year sentence) and also has read over 30 books on pedophilia since John’s arrest.  It’s Jimmy’s passion to learn what drives these people to the point of molesting children so that he can be an advocate — a strong voice — for our children.

Right now this blog is being visited by thousands daily, and I thank you so much for sharing it with friends and family and professionals.  I feel deeply moved by what Jimmy has written and ask you to take his information to heart.  Read it.  Digest it.  Pay attention to it.  Become educated.  And, do all that you can do to keep your children safe!

Please help Jimmy and me in becoming voices for the children!

Visit Jimmy’s blog here and learn what you can do to keep your child safe from predators — beginning today!

Sincerely,

Clara