Thanks so much for visiting this blog!  You have no idea how much your presence means to me.  I feel like I’m connecting with friends and people who understand, and we share a common goal – protecting our children and helping stop this horrible cycle of child molestation.

If you’re new here, please be sure to start here.  This is an easy read – I write straight from my heart and you won’t find any fluff.  “It is what it is.”  I’ve found that’s the only way I can write.

We left off with our move to Pennsylvania following John being fired from his job as youth minister in Oklahoma.  I’ll be upfront with you and let it be known right off the bat that this was not a place where I wanted to be.  This area of the country is known as snow country.  It has mountains and long, cold, dreary winters.  I grew up in Southern Jersey right along the shore and my heart will always be connected to the ocean.

Worse, though, than the location was the situation.  I was sickened at the thought of being a preacher’s wife.  I struggled so much with low self-esteem issues and now I knew without a doubt that I was going to live under the scope of eyes watching my every move as well as every move of my children.

John’s one promise to me had been that we’d never be a preacher’s family, yet here we were – committed to doing just that.  We were now officially part of this thing called “ministry.” John had not prepared for ministry.  He was a business major gone sour.  He couldn’t keep up with the math classes.  So he changed his major, and then persuaded his professors to create a title for his specialized course — Religious Education.  He was the first student at Oklahoma Christian College to graduate with this degree.  Talk about manipulation!

Adapting to living in the church parsonage was not easy for me.  I grew up on a farm with chickens, goats, sheep, dogs, cats, and my horse Robbie.  And, suddenly here we were in the center of town with a nursing home just yards away from our kitchen window, absolutely no yard – only a front porch that would serve as the outside play area for our kids – and worse yet was the fact that the parsonage was connected to the church building.  The living room door opened up into the church auditorium.  I had no choice in where we lived.  The parsonage was part of the preacher’s package.

In looking back, it’s so strange to me that John had such an obsessiveness with his list writing – everything had to be spelled out in the smallest detail on a daily basis – yet he had the most amazing ability to adapt to circumstances and people.  He didn’t have a care in the world about meeting new people, working with them, or living in the parsonage.  In fact, he loved it!  He was in his glory being the leader of the pack!  And, people loved him!

We settled into life at the parsonage within a few weeks.  I had my fair share of problems which I’ll not elaborate on here, but John – let’s just say when he was center stage he was delighted!  He was especially happy because we moved on October 1 and already he had big plans for a teen New Year’s Eve party in the basement of the church building.  If you remember reading about our first New Year’s Eve together, then you can well imagine the knot that was in my stomach just thinking about this one.

John bought party planning books and he sat with them for hours underlining, highlighting, and folding pages to mark the games that he thought we be the most fun.  He was obsessed with this party!

Now, keep in mind that in my presence he was probably the quietest person I knew.  He hardly spoke a word.  In fact, he barely grunted.  Our daughter was almost two, and he was so preoccupied with “church work” that she was pretty much my child.  I often cried myself to sleep thinking, “This is what it’s like to be a single parent.” I would wait all day for John to sit in a chair by me to watch some TV or just talk about his day, but I’ll be honest with you.  Instead, he either closed himself off in the bathroom or he went to sleep.  Do you know that I never knew simple things about him such as his favorite color, his favorite food, or his favorite hobby.  Isn’t that weird to be married almost forty years and not know those things about your spouse? 

One day I was so excited over something our daughter had done that without thinking, I ran downstairs to the basement where John’s office was located in the church and wanted to surprise him with a hug and a kiss and to tell him the good news – she was beginning to talk!  Real sentences!!!

I grabbed the doorknob and flung open the door without thinking, and what a wrong move that was!   John was sitting at his desk, feet propped up, with a book in front of him that he quickly threw down on his desk.  “What are you doing barging in here like this? I told you to NEVER disturb me when I’m studying.  Ever!  Do you understand me?”  John didn’t raise his voice too loud, but his eyes – so piercing.  He was scary when he did that.

I froze. I had entered his secret chambers uninvited and unannounced!

John made “rules and lists”  for me to live by and one of the rules was I was never allowed to come downstairs for any reason to disturb him while he was studying.  He was being like Alexander Campbell, the preacher from the Restoration Movement.  I wasn’t even allowed to call him from the phone upstairs.  He had the perfect believable answer for everything!

The very next day, John went out to a hardware store and bought a special kind of lock and put it on the door.  He was the sole person who held the key.  NEVER was I allowed in that church office downstairs, and this rule followed us when we moved one more time in 1981.  I never was allowed to have the key to either of those offices – ever!

Lists.  Privacy.  Control.  To others he was the fun preacher kid who was planning all kinds of neat things for the youth of the church.  And, by the way, he also had his “privacy” rule with the church people.  And, they also “obeyed.”  He was so adamant about not being disturbed during his office time, that he unplugged the phone in his office.  Not even death was an excuse to interrupt him.  He made that very clear to me.

Let me insert a true example of how obedient I was to this rule.  We actually had a fire that broke out in the parsonage.  The parsonage was old and apparently there was an electrical problem and a fire started in the hallway by the kitchen.  I was so afraid to disturb the preacher (John) that I called one of the church members in a moment of near hysteria asking him what I should do.

“Where’s John?”  I answered that he was studying in his office.  “Okay, I’ll be right over to check on things!”  And, he did come over, and called the fire company.  There was a full-blown fire that had broken out inside the walls and I was too afraid to walk downstairs and interrupt my husband for fear of being made to feel like an idiot, a fool, and worse than anything a non-supportive preacher’s wife.

I get sick thinking about how much control he had over me. 

Let me stop here and say a few things that are majorly important to understand about this total control.  Many of you are probably thinking, “She was such a wimp.  What’s wrong with her?  Why would she not speak up?  He wasn’t going to hit her, so why was she so afraid of him?”

When a person is under this type of control, you do what you’re told – no questions asked.  You’ve been conditioned to feel inferior on every level.  I had been called ugly by him.  I had been pushed away many times during intimacy making me feel so humiliated.  I had been ignored.  I had been rejected.  I had been made to feel like I was an obstacle in the way.  So, rather than risk being made to feel less human than I already felt, I obeyed the rules.  Following the “Do Not Disturb” rule was a lot easier than being dealt another blow to the heart again!

What’s even more incredible to me as I look back at this one example (and there are hundreds more) is the fact that the church members obeyed John, too.  He was nothing more than a kid and here were these mature adults listening to him tell them he was intensely studying for each week’s sermons and needed to be left alone for Bible study and prayer time.

Do you want to know how he prepared his sermons?  The sickening truth is that he bought books written by people such as Charles Swindoll and tore pages out of them, highlighted key phrases, and stuck the pages as inserts in his Bible and he read from those pages.  He did that the entire thirty plus years of his preaching.  Do you want to know something else?  He didn’t even try to hide those inserts in his Bible.  He left his Bible open where everyone could see.  It was embarrassing to me.  I tried talking to him about it and he just laughed.  His words were, “They’ll never know the difference.” 

The truth is that John held such a spell over people that nobody ever challenged him.  Ever.  He had total control. 

So, what did he do in his “private chambers”?  Well, I know he planned party games.  I’ll tell you one of his favorites next time I write.  I about passed out when I read in a book on pedophiles a few months ago that John’s favorite party game is a game pedophiles play.  I was sick, and still am.

I believe John’s study time was spent studying – but not the bible.  I believe he was studying how to manipulate and control the members of the church.  I believe he already had targeted children he planned to molest.  I believe he was studying body language and the way the mind works.  He wasn’t a dumb man by any means.  And, he seemed to work magic with people he met.

These first few months leading up to Christmas and New Year’s were hard ones.  John had study time, then left to go “visiting” in the afternoons and evenings.  We had one car, so I was home with our almost two-year-old and pregnant with our second child who was due in January.  I had no real friends, and making friends was uncomfortable and difficult for me.  The reality was I was a perfect fit for the wife John needed!  I made no trouble.  I questioned nothing he did.  I didn’t hold him accountable for anything.  And, I worked hard to act happy in front of others when they laughed at his jokes, invited him to preacher’s lunches (no, I wasn’t invited!), and when they bragged up his preaching (when in fact he was reading from a book in front of them).

I was lonely and felt isolated.  Nothing made much sense to me.  John was so happy, and had so much “zip” in front of others, but at home he was so different.  In my thinking, there must have been something very wrong with me.  If I tried harder to be a better wife.  If I worked more on having the house perfectly clean (I used to scrub the kitchen floor two times a day.)  If I had a delicious home-cooked meal on the table for him every night.  If I never asked for anything.  If I could somehow change who I was then maybe he would love me.

Please pay attention because this is so important!  A pedophile is not just a sexually abusive person, but the abuse begins with emotional abuse. There is manipulation, control, grooming (that is very well thought out), and finally the action of touching, which leads to full penetration.  From what I have studied so far, a great thrill is the rush a pedophile gets from having the absolute “control” to do this — often right in front of others and have so much control that the child will never speak up!  My heart breaks when I think of this.  Absolutely breaks.

If you feel tormented and crazy, step back and try to look at your situation.  Love does not demand you follow a list of rules.  Love gives far more than it takes.  Love is kind and patient.  Love does not control.  Love does not intentionally hurt!!!  YOU are not the problem!!!!  Please, please get out of that kind of situation because that’s not how any relationship is supposed to be

Pedophiles plan for months, sometimes years, in advance.  They study people.  They know who and how they can control.  They will trap you.  They will ensnare you and use you for their own personal gratification.

One of the biggest red flags of all I didn’t know was this:

“Ever hear someone described as “just another big kid”? That’s fine, as long as they are able to switch back to an adult rather than staying in the “kid” mode continuously. Child molesters think of children as their peers. They see them in terms of sexual attraction, not cuteness.”  — www.notwithmychild.org

John didn’t know how to be a husband to me.  His interest was with kids — planning parties.  Planning visits.  Planning time to sit with kids while parents went out for a break away.  People loved him.  They adored him.  He was awesome fun!  Kids loved him. He’d pick them up and swing them around.  He’d romp on the floor with them.  He’d have treats for them.  He was a great guy.  A great guy who was planning on how to  molest your child!

Please open your eyes.  Don’t leave your child alone with anyone!  Protect your children.  Pedophiles are preachers, teachers, bus drivers, dance instructors, coaches, baby sitters, and your neighbor next door. Pedophiles are funny, smart, and they don’t look like the bearded monster from outer space.  Be alert at all times!

Next time we will talk about the games John planned for the youth at church, at parties, and at church camp.  I tremble just thinking about this.  I’m sick, and I’ve cried hours upon hours upon hours over this.  I still find it so hard to believe that I was so blind.  Please learn from my pain!  If your gut is telling you something isn’t right, it probably isn’t.

I’ll close with a quote I found today while reading:

That’s just how pedophiles work.

Love,

Clara

PS  John also did “counseling” in his secret chamber.  I’ll talk about that at another time.