Why I wrote my story.

Eve’s Covering is a work from my wounded heart. In the process of writing, however, it healed, allowing me to share my story with you. People warned me to keep my story a secret…as if I should be ashamed of it. But I can’t do that. I’ve worked through the shame, and now I’m sharing my story to help others find the courage to face adversity. God rescuing a child out of the darkness of a cult is a miraculous thing! You see, it was God who protected me in the midst of the fire, walking with me through it, bringing me out on the other side.

I was in a foreign country when I escaped the cult and very much alone. I was only nineteen years old with less than five dollars in my pocket. It was a miracle I made it back to my home in Michigan-only to find it gone. My parents had been tricked into moving to Florida in the guise of joining the cult’s mission there, so I begged my sister to take me in. She had five children with another on the way and I promised to help her with them.  They went to a small country church and even though I was painfully fearful of anything “religious” at that time, I knew I needed to be there. I was afraid all the time and angry at God and my situation. I needed Him to answer my questions, like why did he make me go through all that? Why had my home vanished? I felt very vulnerable without a home, a job, or education. And very much alone. How could I tell people what happened? The shame was too fresh. The hurt was too deep.

Then I met my husband at that small country church and for some reason he made me feel safe again. In six months, we were married. Another four and we were attending Ferris State University. I was so happy! Then we had our children and all my dreams had come true.

That’s when the nightmares started.

Every night, the cult leaders kidnapped my children, and I chased after them frantically – in cars, buses, on foot, through forests and mountains.

 I woke up exhausted and fearful. I cried at the drop of a hat. Everything was sad to me, so I started journaling to help me get my emotions under control. Then I endeavored to write a memoir, but that was too painful. I couldn’t imagine letting anyone into that secret place the cult had possessed in my life. So, I turned it into a story and after 100 pages, my nightmares stopped. I supposed because I had faced my demons.

But I hadn’t destroyed them. Years later, when I returned to Harbor Springs to care for my dad who had developed Parkinsons – yes, my parents had returned to Michigan by this time. The flood of memories came back in full force, and I experienced PTSD. The nightmares returned along with an unexplainable fear-and tears.

I put pen to paper again. This time with a new storyline and a genre I call Autofiction, autobiography/fiction. In blending reality and fantasy, I was able to tell my story in a way that protected myself and others who were entangled with the cult, as well as find satisfaction and courage to morph my story into something not only captivating, but powerful. I’m thrilled with the knowledge that my story can help others through their own adversity.

I published Eve’s Covering, a YA Thriller in December of 2022. It won a gold medal in the 2023 Readers’ Favorite International Book Awards. It was truly a wonderful moment, stepping on stage to accept the award. For me it meant not only had I succeeded as an author, but I had also beaten the cult leaders. Hoorah!

How my family joined the cult.

My family met the cult leaders when I was ten years old. From now on I’m going to refer to them as Simon and Marigold Blackwell as I renamed them in my book, Eve’s Covering. Our families soon became fast friends. My parents were fascinated with these people who claimed to have a connection to the supernatural realm. And the Blackwells enjoyed many meals at our house and no little sum of pocket change my parents placed in their offering plate.

            It wasn’t long before we left the Maple River Mennonite Church in the tiny town of Brutus. I loved this church. I had been baptized there when I was eight and eagerly learned three hundred verses through the Bible memory program. I was sad to leave, but it was also exciting to be a part of this new group that claimed to have a direct line to God.

            Webster’s first definition designates a cult as, “a religion regarded as unorthodox or spurious,” with examples of a voodoo or satanic cult. The second states a cult is classified as having, “great devotion to a person, idea, object, movement, or work (such as a film or book). What I’m referring to is the second. Our lives revolved around this family who became our guide into the supernatural world. When I was twelve, my family sold everything, packed up what few possessions would fit in a motorhome, and traveled with the Blackwells. Simply put, we joined their cult.

            After a year of wandering through the US and Canada, doing public relations for the Blackwells and setting up week-long meetings they called crusades, I had my first epiphany. I realized that there was something not right about these people. Looking back, I can’t quite put my finger on what it was that bothered me at that time, but it was there. All I remember was writing a letter to Marigold about my concerns. As I waited for a reply, all hell broke loose. I was summoned before them and placed in the hot seat. How dare I question them?! I was harshly reprimanded and told that I had ruined my chances to be a part of their ministry-in fact God probably wouldn’t ever be able to use me. They even threatened to take back the birthday present they had given me-the little dog I call Pippen in my book. I was only thirteen. I was devastated by the Blackwells’ response and the disappointment in my parents’ voices as they rebuked me as well.

Soon after this incident, the Blackwells broke off our partnership. They told us the crusades we were setting up weren’t bringing in enough money to support both families and we’d have to part ways. They left us in Seattle with little money, food, or hope. Those were dark days. I remember my mom crying and me asking if we were going to eat dinner. She would make popcorn or hotdogs and ask how I could eat when our world had fallen apart.

Our world, I mused. The Blackwells had been our world! I knew we were in a desperate situation, but a sense of relief hit me. We were free of the Blackwells. Now what?

How we put our lives back together.

We had a contact in Marina, California, so that’s where we headed in the hopes that they could somehow help us. I sat in the back of the motorhome as dad drove, listening to my mom praying we would make it on fumes since we didn’t have any money to buy gas. Our tires were bald too, so she prayed that God would wrap His angels around the tires to hold them together so we could make it to our destination.

Well, we made it. Barely. Then our contact got my dad a job helping to build a church. The pastor let us stay in the church parking lot. My little brother and I would spend the days working on our lessons from the correspondence school, Calvert. In the evenings, when my dad got off work, he would drive the motorhome to the beach, which was only a mile away. There we scoured the sand for seashells and all sorts of interesting things, played in the waves, and watched the hang gliders waft from the cliffs above us. It was my silver lining in the storm clouds of my life. To this day I find the beach a place of peace and freedom. A place I can leave my worries behind-even if just for a little while.

Back home.

After spending the winter holed up in the parking lot, we finally had enough money to buy new tires and enough gas to make our way back home to Michigan. But we no longer had a house to live in, so we parked at my grandparents’ place. They owned Whispering Pines Trailer Park in a tiny little town called Alanson. It’s ironic really, because it’s where we first lived when we moved from Idaho when I was seven years old. Then we lived in a tiny trailer. So tiny my older three siblings couldn’t live with us. Now, we lived in an even tinier RV and winter was coming. How would we keep warm in something equivalent to a sardine can? Furthermore, I started to worry about school. What would the other kids say when they found out where I lived?

Our move to Harbor Springs.

My dad got a job at Longton Hall, an antique shop in Petoskey. The owner-we’ll call him Mr. Little-loved my dad’s talent and said he could work ‘magic’ with an old piece of furniture, transforming it into a thing of beauty. Mr. Little bought an old house on the bluff in Harbor Springs and asked my dad to remodel it. Of course, he said yes. But the amazing thing was that Mr. Little let us live in it rent free.

I was overjoyed. God had provided us with a place to live-and my brother and I would be going to a great school. Most of all, I thought we were rid of the Blackwells. But I was wrong. Boy, was I wrong… I came home from school one day and there was Mr. Blackwell-standing in my kitchen!

Eve’s Covering starts here, with our move to Harbor Springs:

I chose to start my story in “medias res”-or in the middle of the action, mostly for the plot’s sake. I tried keeping the back story, but my beta readers found it unbelievable. How could we be duped a second time? But we were.

A few disclaimers:

Eve’s Covering is a work of fiction because there were so many missing pieces to my life. I was just a kid and then a misguided teenager. As an adult, I’ve had the opportunity to look back and try to answer the questions: What were the motives of the cult leaders? My parents?  Also, please keep in mind that having the cult leaders control my family was normal to me. I fought periodically against this but was always rebuffed. Furthermore, many of the difficult things that I’ve experienced I couldn’t put on paper exactly as they happened, so I used symbols and themes to represent the angst I felt from my years living in the cult.

School was a sanctuary for me-away from the Blackwells, for the most part so they were a well-kept secret. The only friend of mine they met, they promptly set out to destroy.

Themes & Symbols:

The themes of forgiveness, restoration, and hope are at the heart of Eve’s Covering. They are the reason I wrote my story. You must learn to forgive. It’s the only way to make you whole again. I also want to encourage you, in the midst of your pain, not to give up. Look to the cross for courage and strength. God will never abandon you.

Eve’s Covering begins with the death of Eve’s cousin. I must confess that although Alice is made up, she is very important to the story. You see, she is a symbol of everything that I lost at the hands of the Blackwells: love, friends, family, security, a home, an education. My list could go on and on.

Lilit, the little girl Eve rescues from the orphanage, is a symbol of forgiveness, restoration, and hope. God has given me a beautiful family. He has healed my heart.