Moths, Dams, Anchors

August, 2005.

"Hello, this is Carol." I cheerfully answered our home telephone.

It was Debra.

~*~

Debra and I had taken The Way's Power for Abundant Living Foundational and Intermediate Class together back in 1977. At that time, the Foundational and Intermediate classes were presented as one class of fifteen three-hour sessions over a three-week time period. The first twelve sessions made up the Foundational Class which culminated with everyone in the Class speaking in tongues. The last three sessions, which were the Intermediate Class, led all the students into the manifestations of interpretation and prophecy.

Everyone in The Way speaks in tongues and most everyone interprets and prophesies.

Debra raised her three sons, for the most part, as a single mom. She always did her best to get all four of them to Fellowship. One year, she even took them all Word Over the World Ambassador. I think she was at an Advanced Class when she made that decision, for her and her boys to go WOW. At the time I was concerned; I was hoping she hadn't made an emotional decision thinking it was a spiritual one.

But she and her boys did it, returning to the Rock of Ages at the end of their year of WOW service to each receive their blue WOW Ambassador lapel pins. That's what WOWs got after their one year of volunteering for God, a blue lapel pin.

Children who served as WOWs were called mini-WOWs.  I think they received a special mini-WOW lapel pin.

The adult lapel pin is oval shaped, about one-half inch wide, gold-trimmed, with an embossed gold outline of the continents on a deep blue background. The pin represents our planet.

Small gold printed letters at the top of the pin read "WAY," all upper case. To the left of "WAY," in smaller italicized script, sits the word "The." Perpendicular to WAY and down the middle of the pin is the word "Ambassador," the letter "A" in the word WAY serving as the first letter in the word Ambassador. At the bottom of the pin, on either side of the letter "o" in Ambassador, are the letters "w" and "w." So that it reads "wow" across the bottom. All letters are lower case except for that one word at the top, WAY. The back of the pen is metallic gold.

WOW Vets would wear their pins proudly to Ministry functions; I know I did. Word Over the World pinned on my chest, on the left side, over my heart. I still have my pin from the one WOW year that I completed.

But of course the year wasn't about the WOW pin; the year was about growing spiritually mature and confident. It was said a believer could grow "ten years in one" when they went WOW. After I exited The Way I thought, Gosh, if a person physically grew ten years in one, they'd die.

John and I had helped Debra as much as we could through over a decade as she was raising her boys as a single mom. When she got married in the early 1990s, my young son was the ring bearer and my daughter was the flower girl at her wedding. She married Eric, a believer who had been with the Ministry on and off since at least the early 1970s.

Eric is a US Army veteran. In the early '70s on one of his practice paratrooper jumps, his chute didn't open. Amazingly he lived. He had to spend a year or so in a body cast and ultimately lost his right arm. The incident about the accident is recorded in the book The Way Living in Love, about how the believers at Way Headquarters had prayed for Eric helping believe for his healing. Forty years later he's still thriving, even coaches a swim team.

They've been through a lot, Debra and Eric. I continue to admire them both. Survivors and thrivers living each day with gratitude and gusto.

Back in the late '90s, they were put on four-months probation from The Way. After I left The Way I learned that there was a public meeting at that time. Debra and Eric were present at the meeting while their lives were examined and scrutinized. That's where they received the verdict that they were to stay away from the Household for those months until they got it together. They had to read the same Way articles over and over about their "opportunity," and then report in writing every week to the Way Corps Branch leader. That's what followers had to do during those years when they were put on probation. Apparently Debra and Eric passed the requirements of decontamination; they were allowed back into the fold.

In The Way we didn't have "problems," we had "opportunities." Opportunities to believe God. Opportunities to grow stronger.

~*~

I don't recall how mine and Debra's August, 2005, phone call started, what the subject was. But somewhere in the conversation the Ministry came up.

"Carol, what's wrong with The Ministry? What's happened to it?" Debra's voice had a longing sound to it.

My gut fluttered with moths. I was silent.

Would this be a repeat of mine and Dee's conversation from a month earlier at the Reliv Conference?

Lump in my throat. Bottom lip trembling. Hole in my gut. Tears gathering.

"Carol?" Debra broke the silence. The dam holding back my tears was cracking.

She heard my sobs and deep breaths. "Carol, what's going on?"

"Debra." The words made it past the lump. "There's stuff. There's stuff I've read online about the Ministry."

I felt dirty.

Oh God, what was I doing? I was allowing this secret I'd been keeping to seep forth. I didn't want to blame the Ministry. I didn't know how much of the sexual abuse allegations were true. I didn't know if Donna and Rosalie were lesbians. I didn't know if these people who had written accusations were liars, possessed, or honest.

Yet I felt some of the allegations were true, though I tried not to. I didn't want them to be true.

I felt sick to my stomach.

How could I have kept my mouth shut? Why hadn't I told Debra this stuff before? Why hadn't I told Dee? What was wrong with me?

So many people had already left The Way, in droves at times. Why we were just now, in this little corner of North Carolina, why we were just now seriously contemplating these doubts? It was like we had been kept in a cocoon, except for when Mike and Jane had been made mark and avoid back in 1995.

Yet even then, we chose The Way. "We have no friends when it comes to The Word." That's what Doctor had taught us; that's what the Ministry taught us. The Ministry was the Household, wasn't it?

We had all devoted our entire adult lives to The Way. Our money. Our time. Our energy. We all loved the Ministry. We loved Doctor. We loved Craig. Of course they made mistakes; they were men. But the love of God covers a multitude of sins, doesn't it?

"Debra, do you that know that Mrs. Wierwille is sick?" My words trickled out.

"No," she answered baffled and concerned. "How sick? What do you mean?"

"She's dying. She's in a nursing home on her last days. I don't know much. I've read that The Way wouldn't even let the Wierwille children on grounds to see her, when she was at the home place at Headquarters, before she went to the nursing home. But I don't know if that's true, if they weren't allowed on grounds."

Debra was stunned.

"There's more." I continued. "Craig had more than one affair. And there are three law suits. One of those suits was filed by Ron."

The dam had broken.

I shared about the hole I'd been carrying around inside for at least a year. I told her about GreaseSpot. I told her about the various splinter groups that had been formed by former Way leadership. Most loyal Way followers knew about John Lynn's splinter group, but few knew that there were other groups.

"It's not just me then?" Debra responded.

"No. It's not just you," my voice relieved, yet scared. Had I done the right thing by speaking up?

What had been our spiritual anchor for decades, was loosing its grip.

Peeking Between the Cover

***************************
I'm in process of transcribing another journal. Again I am transcribing it in public, on the blog where I transcribed a previous journal.

The previously transcribed journal is from over twenty years ago. The current journal I'm transcribing is from five and six years ago.

And I thought the first transcription was difficult. This second one is much closer on the chronological timeline; there is not the distance there was with the first journal.

What interest me in both these journals is the mindset of the author. That author is me. It's an odd feeling to peer into my thoughts, to transcribe, to allow other eyes to stroke the words. Though I doubt many eyes will glide across them; still the thoughts are there for the peeking.

In this current transcription I am leaving out some entries, even full weeks of entries. I'm leaving out parts of certain entries; I indicate those parts with [...].

It can be a scary thing to look into one's own mind. To look at the thought processes of who I was just five and six years ago.

I have to remind myself that it is what it is and it was what it was.

My journals were and are my processing grounds of my perceptions, of other people, of events, of piecing life together, of trying to figure out the whys and the hows and the what am I to dos. They are not essays on life in the sense of final judgments and absolutes. They are essays in the sense of a work in progress.

Works in process are filled with experiments.

"Essay." The word has an intriguing etymology. A trial, attempt, weighing out.

There is no such thing as a failed experiment.
**********************************************

Dimensions of Bliss

I keep saying to myself that I will write an essay about similarities between speaking in tongues, mantras, and effects of hallucinogenic drugs. I've experienced all three. There are parallels. But those parallels aren't straight; they twine.

I guess I could throw in something about the richness of group experiences, for lack of a better way of saying it. Yet, that aspect (the group experience) is a bit different from the three experiences listed in the first paragraph. The first three don't necessarily happen in a group. They can, but they are more intimate, more personal. Hmm, at least in one sense.

Yesterday, or maybe it was the day before, I wrote a memoir piece. As I was writing and putting my self back into the scene, I could see the relationship, I could feel the relationship, between a multi-level marketing gathering and a gathering of The Way International.

There were times in The Way, like attending The Way Advanced Class or experiencing The Way Corps or attending a weekend Way Advance, times I'd tell people that they'd have "to go to know," they'd have to attend the gatherings to understand the experience. There was nothing else to compare the experience to. The experience was like the chewy, caramel center of God's heart. It was rich and lush and deep. It was like another level of life. It was experiencing the breadth and length and depth and height. It was like another dimension for which there are no words.

At one time I thought that the "true" experience was unique to The Way, that the experience was the Body of believers lush with God's love, living what is called the "Mystery" in the book of Ephesians in the Bible. Any similar experiences, outside The Way, I once believed were counterfeit, were a trick of the spiritual dark side to lure one away from the "true" experience.

I now have a different opinion, about that.

Experience. Experience.

Come to think of it, my weekend of Transcendental Meditation rounding had a similar feel. Hm, no surprise.

Well then, if it feels so good, is it wrong?

I don't think so, not necessarily. I think it becomes "wrong" when a person turns off their critical thinking skills. When one begins to think "this is it." When one believes that this is unique and cannot be found elsewhere outside that environment.

It's kind of like getting high, in that one can recognize (hopefully) they are high and that their perception is distorted. Or say, when a salesperson is convincing a buyer that she needs to buy that product right at that moment. That's a distortion, at least most of the time.

Perhaps I'll get around to sharing my experiences and the similarities between mantras, speaking in tongues, and LSD/et al. At times, they were all 'cosmic;' they all felt supernatural.

"Ema." That is my Transcendental Meditation mantra. I received it in 1975 when I was 16. Here, check out the mantra list! :-D

"Le quiote mai yuma hental." That's speaking in tongues (SIT). I first spoke in tongues in 1977 when I was 18. There's no list for SIT. I guess it beats mantras for originality. (No offense God.)

BTW, I still speak in tongues at times, especially when I am hiking alone in the woods. I'll make up tunes and sing too; I like it. It's quite "blissful" for me. ;-)

I guess people who are deaf and mute cannot speak in tongues? Or repeat a mantra? Hmmm...

******************