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I have found over the years that writing has played a huge part in helping me to understand where I've been and help me on the road to recovery. Not everything that I have written has been pleasant and often times it has caused many a tear but in the end it has led me down this road that I have taken. Today, although I greive on many an occasion, I can truely say "I AM FREE!!!!"

If you have anything you have written over the years, please feel free to share. I pray that as you read these writings that you will either begin the road to recovery, loudly proclaim you are free, thank God that you were not one of us, realize that you are not alone, tell your story...whatever it is I pray that it leads to healing.

Although we are miles apart geographically, we are in this together. Some of us are just farther along on the journey...doesn't make us better...just means we have more experience on this road called recovery.

I'll start it off...

In that moment of reality, a reality so debase of humanity, all my dreams were shattered. Would I ever be able to piece each shard back together? Would the dreams ever resemble what they were prior to that moment?

Would I need help--damn it Yes! Would I accept it if it ever came--No!

In my abject filth and degredation, I had no wish or even strength to reach beyond my slew of depravity.

The stench of death and dying envelloped me. I could hardly catch my breath. Everything I touched withered and died. I came to the grave realization that I should stay in my filth, for to reach out only meant death to ohters.

And there I lived many years until that miraculous moment when God reached down into my mire and made a way for me to leave.

One day it began to rain. At first I took no notice as rain was nothing new in my world. But slowly I began to sense something was different. This rain was different than any I had ever experienced before.

I reached out and red drops fell into my hands. I looked up and there in the distance was a light that was so bright the darkness seemed to flee away.

What could it be? A hoax--I'd been tricked before. Did I dare let hope come alive within me? Oh it would be so easy but I couldn't bear to be hurt again. Once more and I would simply lay right down and die. Thank God that hope was stronger than my fear...

I reached out to the light--not only with my hands but with what was left of my heart.

A pathway began to appear. Each red drop became a stepping stone and with each stone the mirey stench was left behind.

I took one step at a time and the further I got the brighter the light. Soon I was surrounded by the light and my former home was obscured from my view. Suddenly I came upon a sight that is forever etched into my soul. As sight as clear to me today as it was that first day.

There before me stood a plain wooden cross stained with what appeared to be blood. And in that moment my soul was captured by an incredibly loud voice. It was the blood crying out, "For love this was done!"

And in mind's eye I saw that what I thought were random blood stains, were not! The word "LOVE" was boldly splashed across that plain wooden cross and it cried out to me.

As I was desperately trying to take it all in and wondering what it all meant, I began to feel I was not alone. The feeling became so strong, I could no longer ignore it. I turned and there He stood. In that split second I knew...He had done this for me!!! It was the most incredible feeling. All the filth and degredation simply dripped away. He filled that huge empty spot with love, trust and self-worth.

My soul came alive -- I WAS FREE!!!!

That was beautiful. Thank you for sharing that.

Yes, beautiful! Thank you!

Amazing, AMAZING Grace!!!

http://www.mksafetynet.net/tears.htm

Tears ~ Poem by Ruth Crilly McWeeney

My tears are slow.
They are so deep they have a hard time finding their way out.
I have been taught not to show emotion; to hide it and not bring trouble or distraction to my mom.
She is much too busy in the village for me.
And so, I have learned not to cry.
I hold it; I hide it.

But then, one day, a tear came.
It came so slowly down my sad face.
It dripped onto my lip.
It was salty.
It was delicious in its sadness.
I was crying.
I had been wanting to cry for so long.
More tears followed, each creeping out carefully, cautiously.
Would they be welcome?
Would they be permitted to show themselves?

Yes, come tears, come out!
Come out and tell your story of sadness and longing.
Too many days you have waited.
Come out, come out!

Come tears, come.
Tell your story of love found
And healing.
Rescue and comfort in Jesus.

Ruth Crilly McWeeney
New Tribes Mission, the 70s
written November 2009

Need To Know ~ A poem by Ruth Crilly McWeeney

I found out what I needed to know.
I didn't know that I needed to know it, til I knew it,
then I knew that I needed to know that it was all true.
All my memories were not made up. Everyone had them.
It's all true. Now I know for sure.
It is strangely, and very, very sadly true
and somehow awfully satisfying to know I didn't exaggerate.

It is the reason I must stand up to say "No!" for all of us.
It was all so true.

Ruth Crilly McWeeney
New Tribes Mission, Numonohi 70s
August 09. Written after attending the reunion. It was 40 years for me.

These are heartbreaking.

Come on NTM- What's that newer worship song going around?

"Break our hearts, with the things that make Your heart break, with the things that make YOUR (Jesus') heart break..."

Are your hearts broken, NTM? I don't think so.

http://www.mksafetynet.net/i_cannot_be_silent_anymore.htm

Let justice roll down like waters
Righteousness like and ever rolling stream
Let my voice be heard, united
With others who'd reclaim
The dignity of life
The birthright of the soul
With justice and with hope
for all.

I cannot be silent anymore.
I cannot be silent anymore.
There may be others
walking in the darkness
feeling all alone
where I have been before.
I cannot be silent anymore

I will not hide from truth
that's inconvenient
If knowing may bring healing
to a spirit, to a soul
If a word of hope,
a touch of truth
Can help another
through the darkness,
How can I be silent anymore?
----------
In all his years, but war
he's never known
Silently she wears the scars
of violence in her home.
And even in the sanctuary
safety is not found
from those who trust in our silence.
For those who prey on innocence
violate the vulnerable
trusting in our silence
must know they cannot hide.
Deeds done in the darkness
Will be shouted far and wide.
We must not be silent anymore.
-----------
Let us bring to light the sufferings
of victims in the streets;
Bring into the open - the terror
of children in their homes
Bring out of the shadows - our stories
of shame that's not our own.
Stand together against all violence
Wherever it is found.
And vow not to be silent anymore.

Dale Dorrell

Abandonment ~ Poem by Ruth Crilly McWeeney

Look, listen. Do you hear my sad, deep pain?
Days, weeks, months, these semesters are so long,
Every day is endless tropical rain.
I know that this lifestyle is very wrong,
Children should not be sent away to school.
Quiet, quiet, hush up now, go play, do not cry,
The message always says, "Obey the rule!"
Inside my heart would surely like to die.

Left here, I have a low sorrowful song.
Do you hear my slow, weeping, dark, deep tone?
My heart is waiting, waiting oh so long,
I hate this, hate this being all alone.

Far from my mom, no, I should not be sent.
Please, please stop this horrid abandonment!


Ruth Crilly McWeeney
New Tribes Mission, the 70s
written November 2009

http://www.mksafetynet.net/poem_finding_the_voice.htm

Finding The Voice ~ A poem by Dale, a survivor of Rift Valley Academy, Kenya

To give voice to the silent scream;
Recognition to the awful dream;
Name to the terror that binds the soul;
Steps on the path to being whole


To My Child ~ A poem by Dale, a survivor of Rift Valley Academy, Kenya

I'm sorry,
For I have treated you
as oh so many elders oft' before:
Not wanting to hear your tale;
Not wanting to know your hell;
Not wanting to believe
such darkness could be real;
or feel your confusion and your pain.

I've shoved you apart from me.
You're far too much a part of me;
It's far to hard for me to bear.
So I've left you there to bear it all alone;
to hide in agony and shame.

Denial is so useful.
Denial has its price in life.

I'm sorry
That my arms were not so strong to hold you;
nor my ears to hear,
nor my voice to speak;
to comfort,
and to call for justice.

I've wanted you to hold me.
But, come and let me hold you now.

I'm sorry.
Can you yet speak of things unspeakable;
make known the things unknown;
Bring light into the dark,
dark corner of my soul?
Can you open a door,
locked and barred
for nigh on thirty years?

Oh child of mine - me
imprisoned for so long:
How can I help you learn to trust,
even me.

How can I help you learn to speak;
give voice to that you've held so long?

How can I help you through the time
to know the present?
To live in the present?

The door is now unlocked - unbarred
the latch now on your side.

Open when ready!
And may God give us strength.