Nobody's Child

By Beverly James

A memoir of an only child from a broken family, Nobody's Child tells the story of a young girl born in a small town in Missouri to a single mother with no desire to raise a child alone. Subject to mental and physical abuse at the hands of her mother, Beverly's life was threatened and she was sent away to be raised by her father and his new girlfriend. Beverly was left with no voice, a mother who threw her away, and a father who didn't want her. When Beverly's father met a woman at a local bar, an interracial couple was formed that tested Beverly, her father, and the new woman. As Beverly's father and his girlfriend came under the influence of a church organization with all the characteristics of a cult, they were pressured by the pastor to marry and continue to raise Beverly. As Beverly's father began to help this pastor build his own division of "Spiritual Union Church Of Christ (SUCC)," Beverly became subject to sexual abuse that was ignored and renounced by her father... at the hands of the pastor. Throughout her entire childhood, God and the Church were used as tools of oppression to take total control of her father's assets, and his life, but moreover, to sexually abuse and break young Beverly. The story of a woman escaped from a grassroots Bible cult, Nobody's Child follows the life of Beverly James from sexually abused, unwanted child, to escaped, confident single mother in search and pursuit of her life's goals.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Sep 12, 2013
• ISBN: 9781483662428

Book preview

Nobody’s Child

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Beverly James

Copyright © 2013 by Beverly James.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Rev. date: 08/27/2013

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Contents

The Beginning

Helpless

Careless

Just Once

Mrs. Griffert

Fear

New Life

Isolated

Valley Park

Rabbits

High School

Diary

Hypocrite

Priorities

Change?

Dependence

Michigan

Moving Forward

Celebrity Reflections

Social Service Organizations

Special Thanks

Dedicated to Ivy, hand of an angel who helped me believe in my full potential.

¹⁰"Many pastors have destroyed my vineyard, they have trodden my portion under foot, they have made my pleasant portion a desolate wilderness.¹¹ They have made it desolate, and being desolate it mourneth unto me; the whole land is made desolate, because no man layeth it to heart. ¹²The spoilers are come upon all high places through the wilderness; for the sword of the Lord shall devour from the one end of the land even to the other end of the land: no flesh shall have peace.¹³They have sown wheat, but shall reap thorns: they have put themselves to pain, but shall not profit: and they shall be ashamed of your revenues because of the fierce anger of the Lord. ¹⁴Thus saith the Lord against all mine evil neighbors, that touch the inheritance which I have caused my people Israel to inherit; Behold, I will pluck them out of their land, and pluck out the house of Judah from among them. ¹⁵And it shall come to pass after that I have plucked them out I will return, and have compassion on them, and will bring them again, every man to his heritage, and every man to his land. ¹⁶And it shall come to pass, if they will diligently learn the ways of my people, to swear by my name, The Lord liveth; as they taught my people to swear Baal; then shall they be built in the midst of my people. ¹⁷But if they will not obey, I will utterly pluck up and destroy that nation, saith the Lord."

Jeremiah 12:10-17

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The Beginning

W ow! I looked at a picture of my mother leaning over a baby. Wearing orange bell bottoms and a plaid shirt, she held baby powder in her hand and loomed over my infant self. I thought to myself, This must be me… why have I never seen this picture before? Photographs were uncommon in my home. My father didn’t hang them, and didn’t want them. There was never a single pleasant family memory captured on the wall on which to reflect. It was only through visiting the homes of other folks that I realized we were the odd ones. I kept staring at the photograph, and thought about the fact that I probably wasn’t supposed to be in my father’s room. He was a very private man, my father. A family man, he was not. All I could do was imagine what the past was like for my parents, and what could have occurred between them. All I knew for a fact was that my father hated my mother. Your mother is a chronic liar! he would shout. Your mother is the Devil’s daughter! was common as well. As a child, they didn’t even get along for my sake. They acted as if they had never even known each other, regardless of the fact that I was their child. Did they regret having me altogether? If they didn’t, I couldn’t tell. At only eight years old I had blocked out many treacherous memories. But now, I am no longer an eight year old child from a broken home, and I want the world to hear my story. I hope that my story will create better mothers and fathers, better families, better memories. I hope my story may also promote educated religious decisions. When people put their faith in something, it involves everyone close to them. This can be positive, or negative, as it is for so many including myself. I was a child—defenseless, voiceless, helpless. As my parents came under the influence of a cult, my life changed for the worse. My worth was determined by parents who didn’t want me. My name is Beverly James, and this is my story.

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Helpless

A s a child, how do you know that your memories are wrong? How do they make you uncomfortable if you don’t know what comfortable should feel like? It’s quite devastating to have so many unanswered questions, emotions disregarded, thrown away. To so many a child’s place happens to be an unhealthy place, a dark place, a place of confusion and fear. My parents always stressed that I should stay in a child’s place. I never understood that, and why it meant that I could not come forward about all of the abuse that I suffered.

In the Spiritual Union Church of Christ (SUCC), my worth was determined very early. A child was not to speak an opinion or question a sermon, but to question no one and nothing. My feelings as an eight year old child in the SUCC did not matter. The adults that I desperately needed to pay attention to my situation did nothing but gossip about one another and discuss other folk’s private business. Just like any child, all I needed was recognition, some semblance of love and a family. But my family allowed me to be abused. As a child of the SUCC I felt as if my very existence were a chore to those around me. I had grown so tired of being told, Go to the basement and play! The adults in the SUCC congregation expressed their angst brought on by their children and their desire for them to be grown so that, the blood would be off their hands. I spent my entire childhood waiting for them to love me, waiting for something to happen with them. Throughout my childhood I knew that my parents were anxious to be free from me. No longer would they have the financial strain of a child, or have to deal with my presence. I knew as a young girl that my family would be much happier if I were not around. However, much happened before the age of eight years old, I was troubled well before eight.

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Careless

M y earliest memories take place at about the age of four to five years old. At the time I was extremely troubled. My stepmother often told me that when I stayed with her and my father I was a nervous wreck. At the time her statement was confusing… but in retrospect I realize what my stepmother was describing.

I was a child, a little girl living with her mother in a government housing project. Unfortunately for me, my mother’s only interest was her new boyfriend from the factory. At the same time my mother was dating this man, I was having severe episodes at least once a week for which my mother would have to call an ambulance due to extreme illness. The doctors were terrible at explaining to my mother that these episodes were due to an allergic reaction to the fish she was cooking for her boyfriend. My mother was too involved