Orphaned Spirit - A Book of Healing from Childhoood Sexual Abuse




Book Excerpts

Orphaned Spirit - the power to heal from child abuse

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Orphaned Spirit - the power to heal from child abuse

The following are excerpts from the prologue of
orphaned spirit....the power to heal

I was praying when …

…at the age of six in September 1949, I went to live at Augsburg Lutheran Home.

…Gary P. cut up my rubber football that first day and I told on him to Mister, the superintendent; he was punished.

…after lights were out and we had gone to bed, I had to go to the bathroom. I walked down a long dark hall to get to the restroom. I turned on the light, and someone yelled “Close the door!” I did and went into the stall. The light went out. I turned around to find myself starring at a big gorilla, highlighted by a flashlight; it really scared me.

…the gorilla told me never to squeal on anyone again and hit me several times. At first I screamed for help; no one came. I cried; no one came. I felt my way back to my room. Sobbing, I climbed into bed and started to settle down when my bed began to shake. Ralph B. came out from under the bed, hit me and again I was warned not to squeal. There were three other boys in my room; none of them did a thing to help or ever said a word about it.

…Ralph B. would make me bend over and touch my toes. “Assume the angle,” he would say and then kick me as hard as he could in the butt, usually right between my legs to see how far or how high I would go. This was almost a daily routine until it became boring for Ralph and those watching stopped laughing at the situation.

Orphaned Spirit - the power to heal from child abuse

…afterwards, if it was cold, they usually built a fire, and I often ended up inside a burlap sack over the fire. By some miracle, I never was burned.

…they put a boy by the nickname of “Billy Tomato” into the Burlap sack and held him over the fire. He screamed and yelled. I was glad it wasn’t me that time, but I am sorry to have wished pain on others so I wouldn’t be hurt.

…I tried to avoid going outside when we came home from a parochial school. At school we were the “orphans” and were treated as such. I remember “Wiggles,” one of my teachers, calling us pigs. I was confused. What had I done so bad to deserve all of this?

…my father came to visit my sister and me the first and third Sundays of each month for a few hours. Those few hours were full of laughter and goodies to eat. However, as soon as my father left, Ralph B. would take my goodies. It was either give them to him or get beat up. I ate as much as I could before my father left.

…Ralph B. would make me have sex with him after supper. After awhile, I became a willing victim so I wouldn’t get beat up. I just did what he wanted me to. I hated him. I was so afraid.

Orphaned Spirit - the power to heal from child abuse

…the summer before my sophomore year in high school, I left the Home. My sister had graduated from high school while out the Home and in a very emotional session with Mister, my father promised to take me out of the Home. They didn’t want me there any more. I wasn’t abiding by the rules. I had stayed after school participating in sports and other extracurricular activities, including talking to teachers.

Orphaned Spirit - the power to heal from child abuse

…late that first night when I left the Home, living with my aunt, I was in bed when my uncle came home very drunk. He called my aunt a whore and several other names. He threatened to take his gun out of the closet and shoot her. Welcome to the outside world.

Out the Home we prayed before we got up in the morning, before and after each meal, two times during the evening service and when we went to bed; that makes 10 times a day. I also said a prayer of my own once I was in bed and the lights were turned out. That made 11 prayers a day times 365 days, times nine years for a total of 36,135 prayers. I wonder what my life out the Home would have been like had I not been praying?

Orphaned Spirit - the power to heal from child abuse

I have divided this book into three sections—“Creation of an Orphaned Spirit,” “Healing of an Orphaned Spirit,” and “No Longer an Orphaned Spirit.” Below you will find excerpts from all three sections of the book. They appear at random, and change any time you visit this page or click your "refresh" button.

Orphaned Spirit - the power to heal from child abuse

Excerpts of the book, Orphaned Spirit...The power to heal

They change every time you visit this page
or click your "refresh" button

Creation of an Orphaned Spirit

My mother Jessie met my father when she was just fourteen years old; he was ten years older. She immediately saw him as her ticket out of life in Lutherville. Having grown up with four brothers and an alcoholic father, she became adept at charming men. My father was no exception. They were married in 1939; she was fifteen years old. My father’s job required that the newly married couple move to Omaha, Nebraska, where they both started having extramarital affairs. I had often wondered where my father got his crooked nose. I finally learned that it apparently had been broken by one of my mother’s lovers in Fort Worth, Texas, where they later moved because of a better job.

The couple ultimately returned to live in Maryland with the hope of reviving their marriage. I was conceived but not wanted, which was something my mother told me much later, after I was married and visiting with her.

Children are seldom the answer to holding a marriage together, so it is no surprise that my arrival did nothing to solidify their relationship. Shortly after I was born, my mother left me and my sister, who was a little more than three years older than I, with a friend. She took a trip to Texas, returning only to get a divorce. She left again when I was nine months old. She deposited me at Aunt Mae’s, a woman whose sister was married to my Uncle Bill; she left my sister at Aunt Ruth’s. I think my father was in the navy at the time, although I am not sure. I have a letter he gave to my Aunt Ruth in 1945 to give to me when I was older. I was already a ward of the state when he wrote it. It’s highly reflective of the hope of the poor.

Aunt Mae wanted to raise me, with my father maintaining all the rights of a parent, but he refused. It was nothing more than pettiness on his part. Since I was his son, he felt entitled to decide my fate—regardless of what might have been best for me at the time. Rather than let me stay at my aunt Mae’s, after just three months, he took me away and placed me with the Children’s Aid Society in Towson, Maryland. Thus began my foster home journey.
“Your ‘foster home journey’? Tell us exactly how you lived. What did it mean to be in foster homes?” asked Aguilar.

“Well, basically there were families that would take in kids like myself who needed a home,” I explained. “The agency in charge was called the Children’s Aid Society. They would move us around every so often so that we wouldn’t get too close to the family or bond with them or get tied in with them. I lived with at least seven different sets of foster parents, including my grandmother, who got paid by Children’s Aid to take care of me.”
I don’t know of any child who really understands the concept of God and how God fits into a child’s life. I know that when I left the home of my parents and before I went to the Home, I didn’t have a concept of God. If I would have had an understanding of the concept, then my foster care caseworker would have been God. She made the decision as to where I lived and with whom I lived. She always seemed to pop up when things were good or bad. Such was my sojourn through the seven different foster homes I lived in as determined by the Children’s Aid Society in Towson, Maryland.

I was nearly a year old when my father took me and my sister from our aunts’ homes and made us wards of the state. The Children’s Aid Society placed my sister and me in a foster home, but I remember nothing of that place since I was so young. We were there for just three months or so. Then “God” came along and whisked us to Mrs. Law. I have a vague recollection of her making fried squash. Then “God” whisked me away to Mrs. Eck. She had a couple of older kids who were no longer living at home. Instead of diapers, I remember her placing Kotex pads in my underwear to avoid stains. I recall falling down the stairs there, but I don’t know why. It happened so frequently that she would leave the closet door open at the bottom of the steps where coats lay on the floor of the closet to cushion my fall. I believe she had horses stabled somewhere nearby, as I remember going with her to take care of them. I don’t recall my sister being with me at the time.

“God’s” next stop for me was Mama Weezy (Louise) and her husband Bill. They had no children and loved to travel. I must have lived with them during the summer months as I was able to run through the lawn sprinkler to cool off. My father came to see me once while I lived there; it was a Sunday, and I was told to stay in my room until he came. I have other vague memories of my time there, such as when I cut my leg scratching myself while she was ironing, and when I wet my pants because she wouldn’t let me use the bathroom until I cleaned up my toys.


2008 Louis Sadler