Marias Testimony

By Maria

“He’s going to Kill Me!” I inwardly screamed, as he pushed my head underwater in a horse trough. I struggled and kicked to be released, but he was too strong for me. I held my breath for as long as I could but eventually, I instinctively inhaled . Water shot into my lungs. Just as i was about to loose consciousness, he pulled my head back up, and I gasped for breath. My heart was racing wildly and my mind was in panic mode. If you ever tell anyone what you witnessed, this is what's going to happen. But next time, I won't let you up! Those words, spoken by my own dad, kept me quiet for a long time.

Some of my earliest memories as an Amish child are of my dad pulling my bed blankets off me and feeling his hands touch me in odd places. I didn't know of course, what he was actually doing, but it hurt, and it felt wrong. In later years I learned from others that dads abuse began when I was around six months old.

Early during my childhood, I wondered if I was the only child dad molested. Did he especially hate me? Had I done something wrong that my siblings had not done to deserve his abuse? I was soon to learn that was not the case.

One day, Dad was working in the fields on the “back forty” Of our farm. A few of us children decided to go play in the woods nearby. I don't remember exactly what we were doing, but I vividly remember running as fast as I could down a path. I came out of the woods into a small clearing and stopped dead in my tracks. There in the clearing was dad, raping my older sister. I spun around and ran away as fast as I could.

Dad didn't know I had witnessed him raping my sister, but not long after that, I caught him doing it again. That time he saw me, and I didn't escape. I will never forget how almost drowned me to ensure my silence.

His sexual, Physical and emotional abuse became a regular part of my life as I grew up in an Amish household that appeared normal from the outside. Few in our community would ever have suspected that, multiple times every week, dad would come into my bedroom late at night, or catch me alone outside. I often wondered if all dads did to their children what my dad was doing to me. I was also sexually abused by two other men in my childhood. Others made unsuccessful attempts in my early teens. As I approached my teenage years, I became physically stronger, and if I fought hard enough, I was able to make things difficult for Dad. That infuriated him. One day he was trying to rape me in his shop. As I resisted, he grabbed a rope and hung it over the rafters. Looping it around my neck he pulled me up until my feet were just off the ground. “ If You don't quit fighting me, i'm going to leave you right there!” He shouted. He did that at least four more times over the years. I eventually stopped resisting for fear of him killing me.

When I turned 15 years old, I became pregnant with his child. I didn't know what was happening to me at first. I thought I had cancer. Eventually I realized I had a growing baby inside me. I told a cousin of mine who was a year younger than me. A few months later I miscarried.

Years later, When I spoke with that same cousin, she asked me, “ Whatever happened to the baby?” I had forgotten I had told her about it. “I miscarried” I told her. “ So did I,” she replied. “ What do you mean?” I asked. She said, during the same time you were pregnant at 15 I was pregnant at 14, either by dad or brothers, I don't know who.”

From then on, until I was married at 20 years old, I began to stay awake at night for as long as I could. If Dad knew I was awake he would not bother me. I would hear him walk upstairs and visit one or two of my sister's rooms. Then, I would hear him standing outside my bedroom door. I would lay in the dark, terrified, for what seemed like an eternity. If he didn't hear me making sleeping sounds, he would move on to another one of my sister's rooms. He abused us all.

Dad would go to bed as late as 2:00 AM So I would stay awake until I heard him snoring downstairs. But while he was often asleep until 6:30 or 7:00 AM (and sleep throughout the day), I had to get up at 4 or 4:30 to do my chores. For that reason I got very little sleep from age 15 to 20, when I got married. That had a very negative impact on my health.

I was one of 12 children, six boys and six girls. I no now that all of us girls were molested by our dad. All of my brothers were molested by my mother. I have also come to know that both my mother and dad were sexually abused as children. That, of course doesn't justify what they did to us, but it does help us realize that abused people often become abusers.

I eventually began dating a young man in my late teens who is now my husband. Due to all my trauma from years of abuse, I was initially afraid of him but that young man proved himself to be a total gentleman who treated me with respect. He never made any improper advances towards me, and we had a hands off relationship until we were married.

Not surprisingly, I carried into my marriage all the guilt, anger, depression, and self hatred that I harbored from my years of abuse. As my husband and I began to have children, all of my emotions began to spill out onto them. In 2012, my husband and I sought help from a mental health counselor.

That counselor began to peel back the shell I had built around myself. When Dad discovered what we were doing, he told our counselor that I was a problem child all my life. He claimed that I often lied about what others did. My counselor initially Believed him, until Dad lied to him repeatedly. Once my counselor realized I was telling the truth he realized he could not help me, so he referred me to a new counselor. In mid 2014, our oldest daughter was 16 months old. Mom and dad were at our house and we were sitting in the living room. Dad was holding our youngest daughter on his lap. I was very suspicious of him because I suspected he would fondle her if he got a chance. I kept a sharp eye on him. Then someone called me from another room and I was distracted, I left the room to see what they needed.

I was only out of the living room for a minute. As I re entered the living room I heard our young daughter cry out. I glared at dad as he let my daughter slide off his lap. “ I don't know what her problem is!” he said sheepishly. He knew that I knew exactly what had happened.

When I told our counselor all that had been happening, he said that we needed to talk to the authorities. So we did. And investigation ensued, and Ed denied just about everything. The only thing he admitted was inappropriately attaching 1 of my sisters when she was younger.

Needless to say, he was soon arrested, but our local Amish church posted a $50,000 bail for him. So he was released. Eventually he was sentenced to probation with no jail time. He violated his probation repeatedly and was sent back to jail. Again, the local Amish church posted bail for him and he was released. They always believed and supported him, rather than me.

Several years later, He violated his probation again. He visited a public park where there were minors, and he purchased a weapon, 2 things that were prohibited by his probation. So, in 2023, he was sentenced to four years in prison.

I still Found myself on an emotional rollercoaster, succumbing to anger and depression. My frequent outbursts of anger made me fearful that I might hurt my children. In fact, I had hurt them already to some degree. So I asked a caring local family if they would take care of my children. They did for about a year. I was able to visit our children every day.

We eventually moved to another Amish community in another state. Although everyone was friendly, I was initially very leery of them, having been a victim of gossip in other places.

We soon became friends with a local couple, the Yoders, and they began to try to help me. They talked to me about Jesus and about being born again, but I resisted. Because of all I had suffered, I viewed God as a terrible being who didn't care for me one little bit. In my mind, he only wanted to discipline and hurt me. In fact, I even wrote poems and songs to express those very feelings as a coping mechanism. Here is an excerpt from the lyrics of one of them: Does Jesus care, when the road gets rough. And my feet, to shreds, does tear. When the Load bears down, till it's unbearable. Does he care enough to be there? Oh no he doesn't, I know he doesn't. His heart is in touch with my grief. When the days are weary, the long nights dreary. I know He doesn't care….. Would Jesus care if I kill myself, And in hell fire always burn, Where I never learned what comfort means, And my trials always will churn. Oh no he doesn't, I know he doesn't. His heart is in touch with my grief. When the days are weary, the long nights weary. I know he doesn't care…..

In contrast, the Bishop and members of the new Amish Church we began attending talked about God in a completely different way. They talked of a loving God who cared about me. Our special new friends talked about how they had been born again and how Jesus lived in them by the Holy Spirit. They told me that he cared for me and died for me, but I still didn't get it. I always especially dreaded communion church, because I always thought I was to blame for all that had happened to me. I would try to repent of sins that I never committed.

Then, on September 1, 2024, We visited our new friends at their home. As we talked about the Bible once again, I came across Matthew 12:20 which, Speaking of Jesus, says, “ A bruise Reed he will not break, and a smoldering Wick he will not quench.” I asked them what that meant, and they explained it in such a way that a light bulb was switched on inside of me.

Over the next few weeks, however, Satan went right to work to once again fill me with doubts and depression. There were some misunderstandings with our church that compounded it. But one day, our new friends drove an hour and a half in their buggy to see me, saying they had felt LED of God to come and pray for me, which they did with all their hearts. As they prayed, I felt loved like I never felt before. Faith rose on the inside. I finally believed that Jesus loved me, died for me, and cared for me. And I completely surrendered my life to him. On that day, my life began to change dramatically.

Looking back now, I believe that before my conversion I was oppressed by evil spirits. After my conversion, I have had to learn how to resist wrong thoughts that enter my mind. Although I still had much to learn about staying focused on Jesus and his Word, I have a reason to hope and a reason to live.

Before my conversion, I had struggled a lot with temptation to end my life. A few times I tied a headscarf around my neck as tightly as I could to kill myself, But my husband intervened. There were days that he stayed home from work to be with me so I wouldn't commit suicide.

After that day in September, however, that cloud lifted. I was finally able to care for my children as they deserved. I began to realize that it did have worth that I was not just someone's worthless toy. When you know that you're a child of God, life takes on new meaning!

My Amish Church family, who have also all been born again, have been so supportive as I have taken small steps to live my new life of following Jesus. They don't gossip about me. They don't laugh behind my back. They don't make fun of me because my house is maybe not as spick and span As theirs. They don't ridicule our children at school and tell them how dumb their parents are. For the first time in my life, I belonged to a group of people who truly care for me and my family. Once, when I was facing some struggles and doubting, they all fasted on a Saturday and came to our house to pray. They gathered in a circle around my husband and I, and took turns praying for us. When they prayed, I received a vision. I saw angels with swords surrounding our house who formed a tunnel all the way to the door of heaven Many of them around that door were playing instruments and singing praises to God. I saw a building that had a glow coming from it. I intuitively knew that the presence of God was there. As the people around my husband and I were praying, each prayer was picked up by an Angel delivered to the presence of God! That vision showed me that God does not only listen to our prayers, but He cares about them. He cares about us!

I am sure that God cares about you just as much as He cares about me! Most importantly, if you want to experience the peace and joy that I have recently begun enjoying, the first step is to be born again. Find someone, as I did, who has truly been born again who will pray with you and for you. Pour out your heart to Jesus and surrender to your life to him. Soak yourself in the four Gospels to get to know Jesus like you have not known him before. Jesus will heal you and restore your soul. He will give you peace and joy. He is the source of everything that is good! May his name be glorified forever! Amen!