Moving out!

I’ve started a new blog! Check out what I’m up to and how I’m progressing at I will also continue to post and crosspost here. Leah and I wanted this blog to be a safe place for women of faith to turn to when dealing with the devastation of sexual abuse, and we will continue to maintain this blog as a jumping off point for anyone researching this subject. Thareading all who have reached out to us. Please let us know if you are interested in guest posting, or linking up to us to share your own journey.


I just read this article on child abuse by my church. I wonder if my Bishop has read it–somehow I doubt it.

It’s an excellent article. It’s hard not to be cynical.

Every day I pray that my anger will dissipate, that I won’t feel like such a victim. But every day, I wake up to my four severely emotionally disturbed children; to my husband who has lost his job and is himself suffering severely from the trauma to our family; to Fred, and that thing bleeding in his brain that has no treatment, yet causes gradual neurological damage. I wake up and the fears continue. Is Fairbanks watching? Will he sneak through the window and rape me this time? Is this the day Bo will shoot himself in the head because of the continual unresolved stresses at home? What more horrific news will I learn today? Is this the day that my house will finally just burn down taking all of us with it? There are days I wish it would. There are days that death seems so much simpler than my life–our lives.

Fairbanks robbed me of so much. One of the things I’ve been keenly aware of having been taken from me is my trust. I trust no mortal. I hate sex. I am suspicious of ALL men. I cannot look at a man, ANY man and not wonder what he does when no one is looking. It sickens me. The fact that I am mother to four boys has not escaped my awareness, and it condemn’s me. Yet, no matter how guilty I feel for this mistrust–I cannot bring myself to trust. I dont’ even want to trust–especially not spiritual leaders who have been so hurtful–whether he means it or not.

So once again, tomorrow I will attend church with dread and utter fear in my heart and tears in my eyes, simply because I believe. Not because it feels good, not because I or my family will be nurtured or feel welcome.Certainly not because I trust anyone there . Just because I believe. I believe in God, that Jesus in the Promised Messiah, that He loves me and has a plan for my family. That somehow, someway, He will make us stronger and better and happier if we endure just a little longer. That His way, is the only way to overcome this horrid world–this fire that we must walk through. So ironic that both Heave and @#!*% are right here on Earth. There are days I can almost touch Heaven. When Skippy smiles, or Tory laughs. When I can actually connect to Bo. When the fog lifts and I can paint uninterrupted. When I watch Bill enjoying his chicken. When Fred plays nicely with his brothers. But most days, it’s @#!*% . And I’m bracing myself.

Who we are

We are women of faith who have had our children sexually assualted by someone we love. We are tired of hiding. We are tired of being mis-judged, condemed, and questioned. This is our personal holocaust, and we wanted someone to know. Most of all, we wanted to reach out to others who may be stuggling with a similar issue alone. We’ll add applicable links and resources as we stumble across them. We pray that you will never know how it feels to walk in our shoes, but that you will have the compassion and drive as if you had.