Satan was in my toy room.

Sometimes it’s even hard for me to believe God called me into ministry…  Personally, I thought I would be one of the last people in the world to be called.  I have experienced about everything bad there is in one way or another.  I am also not a huge fan of organized religion.  As far as trying to put on an act to be holier than thou, well, just not happening.  I am just like everyone else in this world, HUMAN.

It has been so very hard for me to even come visit this blog of mine.  A huge part of me would just rather forget it all and act as if none of it ever happened at all.  However, I know the more I share, there is someone out there somewhere who needs to know they are not alone, there is nothing to be ashamed of, and just because every unimaginable thing in the world has come up against you, that DOES NOT mean you are insignificant or not going to ever live the life of your dreams.

One memory keeps rearing it’s ugly head in my mind on a regular basis.  I have done everything to avoid writing about it, but maybe writing about it is exactly what I need to do.  Maybe I just need to get it out…

Yeah….  this is going to be a tough one….

another of those “unbelievable” stories, so hard to even admit……

My dad always tried to explain to me that he was a “White Witch“, but also a devout Catholic.  A special Catholic with a very special connection to God.  He would tell me about his powers and all kinds of spells he claimed he could do, even one to make it rain.  Over time, I remember him telling me I would be the most powerful witch of all.  I’m not sure how many times it actually happened, but one ceremony sticks out in my head to this day.  It was in my toy room.  That room I would never again use to play…

The men in long, white capes surrounded me in a circle in the middle of my fairly large toy room, not clean by any means and with plenty of old broken toys.  We were very poor, so I’m sure many had come from a thrift store or even dumpster.  That night, incense was burning all around me and the glow from the candles flickers and dances in my memory even today.  I was a skinny little four or five year old girl, long brown hair and big brown eyes back then.  I heard the men chanting my name, “Mary Catherine, Mary Catherine, Mary Catherine….”, and I really had no idea what to think of the charade.  All I knew was I HATED the smell of the incense and I was beginning to get a headache from the glow in the dark room.  My daddy did a whole lot of talking, chants and words I didn’t understand.  The men followed suit as if magically directed, replying with words they all knew.  The last thing I remember that I can share of Satan‘s visit to my toy room is that all those “White Witches” raped me, one by one I think….

When I say that I have seen Hell, it’s not a lie or exaggeration.

Satan lived in my biological father’s body,

and I lived in that home for seven long years.

I’m glad it’s over.

and by no means was I the only one…

That’s all I have to say about that.


“All our rough journeys are just boot camp to prepare us to fulfill our calling.”

-Lail Ann Haynes

“God doesn’t call the qualified.  He qualifies the called.”

– Rev. Michael Beckwith



5 responses to “Satan was in my toy room.

    • Thank you. Don’t feel very strong tonight, but usually takes me a couple of days to recover after a rough post like this one. Encouragement like your beautiful compliment gives me strength. ❤

  1. :O) Every time you come forward and share your story with others it strengthens you. Someone who regularly exercises feels the pain of their “sessions” but each time after is a little stronger. So is the same with you. You are a blessing to many others who are not able to yet come forward and speak of their pain. You are a light in their darkness! Love & blessings to you Lail ❤

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