I Do Know These Little Ones…

Wow! How time flies, eh? And so many things, almost constantly, come along to distract us from what we ought to be doing. I can vouch. For some time now I have been trying to get this story out. To bring awareness. In hopes to find justice. That one portion of time, many years ago now, in April to May of 1997, set my life on a course that cannot be described in any concise, convenient fashion, palatable for the common person. The things, often horrid, often just plain weird, that were uncovered along this way are unbelievable to most. That one point, how “unbelievable”, is what way too many way too often use to discount this reality. Discounting reality because someone “cannot handle” the truth has been a greater barrier against getting this truth out–almost greater than all the mechanisms in place to retaliate against those of us trying to bring exposure.

Shame on you all. Now stop hitting the snooze on your truth alarm and get your ass up.

Over the recent months great voices, such as Stew Peters of Redvoice Media, have been working hard on getting the truth out. The truth about the child trafficking system, commonly known as “CPS” (child services). The truth about the reality and prevalence of satanic ritual abuse. Even the truth about the overlap and connections between these nefarious forces. I want you, fellow truth tellers, to know I have prayed incessantly for many years for folks like you to do exactly what you are doing. May the LORD our God bless you beyond belief for your diligence and bravery, on behalf of “These Little Ones.” Please understand, I do know “these little ones.” Three of them are my own children.

These Little Ones

I need to say, Stew, you nailed it. I encourage all who give a damn to watch his recent documentary, These Little Ones. Get prayed up. Watch it. Take notes. Pray for the victims. Pray for those who created the documentary. Pray for the perpetrators–that they be caught, justice brought. You may even go as far as praying for the salvation of the perpetrators. Think about this… The greatest defeat of satan’s agenda is when a sinner repents, turns to the Lord Jesus and takes up His Cross.

{Please note that I do not intend any inference of “fluff Christianity” in that statement. Let us always be mindful that even the thief on the cross beside our Savior, though Jesus told him, “Today, you will be with Me in Paradise”…although he was forgiven of his sin, he still died. He still endured the punishment for his crimes.}

…and pray for more to come out. Pray for Justice to be finally served.

A few days after the release of These Little Ones, Stew interviewed the compassionate creators of the documentary, along with clips not previously released. At some point one of the men asked something along the lines of “How do you move beyond that?” or “How does someone move forward?” I’m not exactly sure of the precise words, but that appeared to be his intent. His exact words are a bit foggy, for it sent me on an journey. Memories of all those years trying to understand what my kids were telling me. Their behaviors. Their strange, disturbing “play”. Trying to protect them, teach them up in the Lord, while I was still a baby myself. All the people, authorities, I should not have trusted. All that God did to guide, train and heal us.

Then another scene blasted from our past. A few months in to my kids sharing harrowing stories, I stood at the door that connected our living room to the kitchen in our tiny townhouse. But for the streetlight glimmering in through the window from outside, it was dark. All three of my kids sprawled about the living room. We had a “camp out” that night, as we did often because they were too afraid to sleep in their own rooms. We wrestled some demons away that night, praying together until they finally cuddled up and drifted peacefully off to slumber this summer night in 1998.

What for?

I stood at the doorway unsettled with curiosity and wonder, reflecting on what brought us to this point tonight. Consumed with that wonder, I prayed over my kids again, barely audible over their snores. I asked God to help me understand why. What is it all for?

At this point in life, of this crash course I was dragged into, I began to understand that everything God brings us through in life–every experience–is used for His good and holy purposes. Paul tells us in Romans, “God works all things for the good to those that love Him and are called according to His purpose.” Learning that made me want to strive to love Him more–in hopes that He would use all this ugliness, all these horrors, for His good and perfect purposes. That was my prayer.

So I stood in awe of the Lord at what He brought my children out of, dying to know what He was preparing them for. My children were 2 1/2, 4 1/2 and barely 8 years young when they suffered and were witnesses to unspeakable horrors. Yet there they were, sleeping peacefully, cuddled together after a joyful evening in my home. By God’s sweet mercy, in my care. So, I could not help but be overwhelmed with wondering what God was doing. How would He use them, having all this knowledge and experience, beyond what any adult would ever see in a lifetime? Or even be brave enough to imagine.

The eye of the storm

There is, I am told, such calm in the eye of a tornado. A huge, highly destructive storm, swirling about, tossing houses and buses like dead leaves, yet so peaceful right in the middle. That is where our Lord kept us for many years as He worked, guiding me to teach my kids His way. In that, under the covering of His hand, the things that were uncovered were unimaginable.There are so many incidents of plain craziness to account in one sitting. But here are a few reflections, just to get a point across….

I mentioned before the first clue I had with the picture my oldest daughter drew shortly after getting them home from Kentucky. If that wasn’t weird enough, not long after we moved into our townhouse my kids began to behave more strange by the day. I baby-sat my nephew at the time and my youngest daughter, just a bit older than he, would have him sit in a circle with stuffed toys in “cloaks” (she was terrified of dolls), while she stood at the head of the ring. She would use pencils and call them “swords”, waving them around, mumbling, cross the “swords” in front of her face and have her cousin bow with his face on the carpet. I watched for a short time, mainly because I was so perplexed. I jumped up and put an end to it when I saw her stab the stuffed puppy in the middle of the circle with one of her “swords”. She was almost three at this time.

Another time I walked in on my son and youngest girl with a Beanie Baby kitten strapped to a block of wood, encircled with several stuffed animals, again “cloaked”. I peeked in through the barely opened bedroom door and watched to figure out what they were doing. I jumped in then when I saw them cut off one of the kitten’s paws, exclaiming, “This is for you!”

Then there were the organized, gory messes I walked in on at times, like I shared in the post, Believe It or Not. Those are my children I speak of in that post.

We also have the countless questions from my, then, very young children who, in their innocence, were simply trying to understand. My youngest girl, as she became more verbal, would constantly ask me, “Why are hoses in bellies?” and “If we all have hoses, why did Cindy need more?” and “What does kill mean?” …and on and on. (Cindy was the ring leader in all this.)

My son was more focused on the two children they witnessed murdered and that, “Their mommies do not know where they are.” Several times he detailed, one time showing with a baby doll, how the one child was stabbed, blinded then had her skin peeled off. He was very clear about who held the sword and who gave the orders.

The other murdered child, according to my son then, “Looked a lot like (him), but with blue eyes.” They cut his hands and feet off. My little boy would look at me, bewildered and wide-eyed, tears streamed his precious face, but he was not really crying. He would ask, “Mommy, why didn’t Chuck run? Why didn’t he scream? That had to hurt. I miss playing with him.” Then told me how Paul (Cindy’s husband) forced him to help bury “parts” of that little boy. My brave son showed KY detectives where, in 2002. You can read about that here.

My son with KSP detectives 3/2002, showing them where he recalled having to “help bury parts” of the murdered kids.

My oldest daughter told me of being forced into the carcass of a freshly gutted horse, laying out in the field. She did not speak about it much, but did note that she was told something to the order of she “had to be reborn from below” and “be cleansed…because (she) wasn’t all white.” She said it was “not unusual” to see these carcasses laying out there. She told me about “all the other kids…in the second house” at the back of the farm….

All three of my kids talked about being molested, passed around, all the “pictures…movies with naked big people and kids playing the game.”


More to the point

I could go on, but now to my point of sharing those things… To answer the question presented in the Stew Peters interview with the creators of the documentary, These Little Ones, we do not really ever move beyond in the sense most would assume. But that is not to say we are stuck in a time capsule. The healing power of our Lord Jesus Christ is beyond amazing. So, in that sense, we do grow beyond. But we do not forget.

All of those whose lives have been invaded by truths we never want to know become changed in permanent ways. We can either give it up to Jehovah Shalom and discover His peace that “passes all understanding”, or we can dwell there and be overcome, be destroyed by it.

I chose the former. I taught my kids the same. I firmly believe that is why “they” kept coming after us, to silence us. The last round, perpetrated in coordination with the state of Michigan and Summit and Mahoning Counties Ohio, appears to have been successful for a couple seasons. But look at all that is coming out now… Look how many are mobilized…speaking out…fighting for truth…

Fighting for “these little ones.” God bless you, Stew and Crew.

“Surely those who wait on You will never be ashamed.” (Psalm 25:3)

We shall know the faithfulness of Your holy name.

Nina and me, 10/2000
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