My Current Incarnation
At this time, upon this earthly platform, in this solar system is when my advanced self, chose to enhance my human experience to ensure that my brain can have a balance of energy that I need to maintain it. So, here I share my mortal experience.
I was born in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan in the southernmost town of Menominee on December 3, 1948. My parents told me my name was Kathleen Denise Barker. There were three of us girls. I was the middle daughter for ten years when our fourth sister was born.
My parents were children of the great depression in the Midwest. Mom being born in Cleveland, Ohio, and dad in Ingalls, Michigan. Their young years were very hard for them, but their experiences during those times prepared them for the future and in raising us. They used their ingenuity and determination to survive. They told each other that they would give their girls a better life than they had had. We were poor temporally, but rich in nurturing and love. Our parents did their best to protect us from the evils of the world. Perhaps this is where I developed trust for everyone, for I always felt secure growing up. Needless to say, we did not have any extravagances or the latest fashions or gadgets, but we had a roof over our heads, food to eat, and clothes to wear. We got lots of love and hugs. Our old house was warm in the winter and, oh, the smell of Dad’s homemade bread coming from the kitchen was the best! He made many improvements to make the house more comfortable. He was skilled in woodworking, electrical, etc. He faithfully went to work every day as an auto body mechanic for the Ford Motor Company, after six years in the Navy as a medal smith. He and my mom were faithful to one another their entire marriage of 50 years.
Mom stayed home and took care of us. She taught us to love books and reading, cooking, cleaning, knitting, the love and beauty of nature. She encouraged us to develop our talents, she spent endless hours playing with us, keeping us busy and engaged. She would clean the house, and scrub the floors on her knees at night after we had been put to bed. Discipline, consistency and practicality were adhered to. Dad was somewhat strict. When he spoke, we obeyed and never did talk back. Each evening we had dinner together at the table. I wanted to please my parents, especially my mom. I was the most talkative sister and often put my foot in my mouth. My eyes automatically turned to Dad knowing what I said was probably inappropriate and received that stern look and I felt ashamed. Our parents were very much engaged in our adolescence. Not having much, our activities centered around the family and our uncles, aunties and cousins. We loved going to the hunting camp, cutting firewood, picking wildflowers, inventing games with our cousins out in the woods. Upon hearing the conch shell blow, we knew it was time to eat and we’d all race back to camp. The same thing happened up at the summer cottage on the Green bay. Swimming out to the raft, walking the beach, sitting around the campfire, watching fireflies and the moon and stars. Sometimes seeing the Northern lights. I have great summer memories having picnics by a stream, swimming in the rivers, lakes and the bay, going to the drive-in movies, playing baseball in the neighboring cow pasture with our friends until dark. Dad and Mom took us berry picking each spring for wild strawberries, with our buckets strapped to our belts. Then blueberries, then raspberries and lastly blackberries. Asparagus was abundant for the picking out beyond our back yard over the railroad tracks. Each summer dad planted a garden and mom planted flowers. Dad was a fly fisherman and often brought home rainbow trout for our dinner. In the winter we went ice skating, sledding, skiing, tobogganing, built snowmen, all that stuff. We also had to shovel the driveway and walkways. We couldn’t afford to take any family vacations and didn’t know what we missed. As I grew, I was ashamed of our old house, but later my friends told me they loved coming over because they felt comfortable and welcome. As dad was always in the midst of some improvement project, mom made our home warm and inviting. They both sacrificed their own wants and did without to see to it that their girls had what they needed. We were always put first. Our lives were orderly and secure. We never heard our parents argue or fight. When they had differences, they would wait to discuss them, privately in their bedroom, after we were put to bed. Unfortunately, something I never did in my marriage. My pride and ego always got in my way.
My father and his siblings were raised Catholic. He was an altar boy, along with his five brothers and two sisters. At some point he no longer wanted to continue, knowing what the priests were doing to some of the boys. But he never really spoke of it. He was excommunicated because he married my mom, who had been divorced. He never went back to church. In spite of that, he wanted his girls raised as Catholics.
Our grandfather was a very proud, controlling and selfish man. My grandmother spent a month or so in an insane asylum to rest after giving birth to her eighth child. My auntie was an infant at the time. My grandfather was demanding sex from my grandmother whenever he pleased. The doctor advised, upon her discharge, that she be taken to her mother for a time. But my grandfather took her home instead, to have sex, then he took her to her mother. Having had so many children and the Great Depression upon them, I’d imagine she was exhausted, felt helplessness, and the inability to cope resulting in post-partum depression.
Then, not long after, one cold winter day when my grandfather, my father and my uncles came home for lunch, my grandmother was not in the kitchen. In order to keep the heat in the kitchen, there were large pieces of heavy canvases covering the doorways. The rest of the house was cold. My grandfather told my dad, age 10, and his brother, age 8, to go look around the house and find their mother. They found her on the floor with a rifle in her mouth and her toe tied to the trigger, dead. My grandfather died when my dad was nineteen. We never knew our paternal grandparents and never knew what we were missing.
My mom had a very hard life, they were poor and her father (that son of a bitch, as she referred to him) was a part time bootlegger and mean as the day was long. After her mother ran away from him and left their five children behind, no one in the family ever told the children where she had gone or why. One could only surmise. (After many years of doing genealogy research, finally getting information from a family source, I
found that she had remarried.) Sadly, after 93 years of wondering, my mother died before I discovered what had had actually happened to her mother. I so wished that I could have shared that with her. After my grandmother had left and gone, my grandfather placed my mom and her siblings in an orphanage. After a time, he took them out of the orphanage and placed them in the care of his aged mother. When she could no longer care for them, they were put back in the orphanage. Again, there was no one to care for them and my grandfather needed to work. That is, until he remarried. She was truly the wicked stepmother who didn’t love the children, was mean, and treated them like slaves. She and my grandfather liked a good time. She’d cook a big pot of spaghetti for their friends playing card games then give the 5 children 5 cents to buy themselves some potatoes to cook for their dinner. My grandfather made my youngest uncle go to his “distillery” and bring back a bucket of moonshine. Spilling some of it along the way home, he was beaten. Drunken men were crawling into bed with my mom and her two sisters. The girls kicking and kicking, defending themselves, until they left. Mom could never understand what kind of God could let little children suffer so. She taught us to be empathetic to others who were poor. She’d have me take an extra loaf of dad’s bread to a widow or someone, or something she’d cook. She didn’t affiliate with any church but supported us being Catholic. She professed to be an atheist. For all of our lives my mother told us her parents were dead. When, in all actuality they were alive. Mom harbored so much animosity for her father, she was determined he would be denied his granddaughters. (Interesting, since she taught us girls to be kind to everyone.) We didn’t know he existed until way later as adults.) We never did meet him, so we grew up without maternal grandparents in our lives. We never knew what we were missing.
I attended St. Anne’s elementary school from grades one to eight. (there was no intermediate school then) and in the ninth grade I’d had enough of Catholic school and the nuns (some of them were downright mean to us kids), so I chose to attend our public high school with my older sister. My dad was disappointed as he had graduated from Catholic Central high school and thought his girls would as well. After graduation, I went to up
north to Marquette to attend Northern Michigan University. My high school principal helped me enroll and get admitted. I don’t know what he did because my grades were not good enough to get in, so I assumed he pulled some strings. For my freshman year, I couldn’t afford to live in the dorm, so he arranged for me to live with an elderly university professor and his wife. I drove her around and helped her out with the cooking and cleaning when I wasn’t in class, in exchange for my room and board. During my sophomore year, I was working part time in the dean’s office when his secretary invited me to attend an off campus party. There I was introduced to my husband. He and his buddy drove from Kincheloe AFB to Marquette to the university in search of girls and a good time. The party was in full swing. With music and drinks flowing, I walked down the lighted stairway into the dark basement. He asked me on a first date the next night. He taught me to pronounce his name, how to say merry Christmas in Hawaiian and he wanted me to memorize his Air Force number. All that on the first date! He kissed me after I told him I had to go back to the dorm. He later told me he wanted me to remember him with that kiss! That was in December. He then went home to Hawaii on leave for one month. It wasn’t until many years later that he told me the minute he saw me coming down those stairs, he knew he was going to marry me.
I finished my two-year secretarial degree and got a full-time job at the university for a Professor Forbes, while sharing an apartment with two other working girls. When Noa returned to Michigan from his leave time, we had several dates and great sex on the living room floor of my apartment being as quiet as possible so as not to wake my roommates. We were married five months later in May 1968. Our first boy, Keola, was born that November.
When my husband received his orders for Vietnam, he wanted me and our two month old son to travel to Hawaii and stay with his family for that year. They were very welcoming and after a few bumps we all got along well. I was treated like their own daughter. Our son was their first grandson that bore their name. After my husband’s Vietnam tour was over, his next station of duty was Misawa AFB in Japan. This is where we were baptized Mormons (1971) and I was pregnant with our second child, Kalaniku. Being a former Catholic, and becoming a Mormon, required learning a whole nother language!! During my membership, I’d always thought about “the mysteries of God,” and the references to the sealed portion in the Book of Mormon. No one could give me any significant answers, at best, they were vague and rote. I craved to know God’s mysteries. I was always very curious about the sealed portion mentioned in the Book of Mormon. During our sealing in the Laie Temple in 1972, I anticipated receiving some answers. I came out of that first session (it was “live actors” back then) so confused, thoughts all over the place trying to figure out just what happened and left with a pounding headache! But our first two children were sealed to us and I was happy knowing this third child (Lehua) I was pregnant with would be born in the covenant (BIC). During the following years of my membership and all the teaching positions, including seminary, leadership positions, temple work, genealogy work, constant studying, reading the Book of Mormon many times, etc., etc., etc., I was no closer to knowing and with even more questions.
Having four more children gave me comfort just knowing they were BIC babies and were “special spirits” coming down into our family. So, we were a happy Mormon family (or so I thought) doing all the right things. As they grew older, the children would differ with me. They hated most things Mormon. Now I’m really happy (knowing the Real Truth®) cause all six of them rebelled against the church and me, who was the enforcer of the “teachings”! They also saw an inconsistent dad who didn’t fully live the teachings and didn’t “honor” his priesthood at all times. A very sore spot with me during our marriage. The children knew and felt it also. I can actually see now, how my forcing them to church all those years caused their rebellion and inactivity. When I learned the Real Truth® I realized that their being rebellious was “a blessing”!
So, in June of 2013, my youngest son, Kui (35 yrs. old), came to me and told me I needed to watch a video on human reality. Apparently, his sister, Kalaniku, found it on the internet after falling on her knees crying out to God asking for answers and feeling very troubled wanting desperately to know who the fuck God was. The two of them had had discussions about aliens, and such. After watching that video with her, he then said, “Ku, we have to show this to mom! I’m telling you! She needs to see it.” “No, Kui,” she replied, “she’ll never be open to it, she’s too Mormon. Besides, we are not to tell anyone who isn’t searching.” “But mom needs to see this and I’m gonna tell her!” he insisted. “Well, whatever.” She said with her hands in the air. So, he practically dragged me to Kalaniku’s house to watch this video and I mostly remember something about the chicken and the egg and which one came first. In my Mormon mindset, I was again confused and trying to make sense out of what I was seeing. (Putting new wine in an old bottle). The kids then told me a little about Christopher. I must say I was a bit skeptical at first, so I went home and began researching. Pondering on these new discoveries, my mind quickly began to open. “I think these kids are on to something!” I thought. “Perhaps it is time for me to trust in what they are so adamant about and I give them a chance and be in the listening.” Then, I ordered all the books.* The shit I had read about Christopher on-line, didn’t faze or deter me. His delivery style made him real and sincere (he wasn’t “wearing a mask”). I listened to his messages and began to learn real truths. He made sense. He revealed things that I felt were some of those “mysteries” I had been searching for. This was awesome!! At last, these mysteries were being expounded upon! I thirsted for more.
I was already questioning and doubting things about the church feeling something unexplainable, when, on that next Sunday, I had to attend an early morning ward council meeting. I was the only “sister” there. When the elder’s quorum president announced that my Primary pianist needed to start attending his priesthood meetings, I was devastated. Our small ward was already woefully inadequate of music people so to fill that position was near impossible. I was already serving as president, music director and a teacher. This situation was literally the “straw that broke the camel’s back.” Along with all the other things required of me, adding to the responsibilities of caring for my disabled and demanding husband at home, it was all too much. Overwhelmed, I desperately felt the tears begin
to flow and I literally could not stop them. “What the heck is happening to me? I am strong. I’ve never had this happen in any leadership meeting. What’s going on with me?” I thought. After that meeting the bishop asked if I was alright. I explained a little bit then went on to Primary, did my “duty” and left for home mentally exhausted. I never returned.
I continued to read and learn more about the Marvelous Work and A Wonder (MWAW®). Later that week the bishop can to my home to apologize for anything he (or anyone else) may have said or done to offend me. “You didn’t offend me,” I told him. After a brief conversation I told him that I didn’t need anyone telling me what to do. He quickly picked up on that and said, “So you’re telling me you don’t believe President Thomas S. Monson is a prophet of God?” “That’s correct,” I replied. He was certainly taken aback. After a bit more discussing, he told me that if I wanted to remove my name from the membership roles, that it was required of me to write a letter explaining my reasons. I thought a lot about what I would write and the thought popped into my head that since I didn’t consider myself a Mormon any longer, it was unnecessary for me to follow their policies. After all, I did tell him I didn’t need anyone telling me what to do! I did not explain anything about what I had learned about the MWAW® to him. When a few of the members said they missed me in church, I simply said that my husband needs my full-time care, which was the truth. They seemed satisfied. My husband was in full support of my decisions and told me if I needed to use him as an excuse, he was fine with that. He hadn’t been to church in a long time and used his disabilities as a reason to stay home anyway. So that was easier for me as I didn’t want to expose the real reason I was leaving the church because I knew I could not explain it anyway. Besides, we were told several times that unless someone is seeking for their own answers, we should not bring up the MWAW®. In that case I didn’t mind being told what to do!
By this time, I was “all in” with what I was learning from the MWAW® work, and “all out” with that church. I gathered up all the myriad of Mormon books and literature from my shelves, all my temple clothing and with a new conviction, took everything to the dump. Tossing out this stuff gave me a tiny bit of trepidation, but determined, I pushed forward in spite of my feelings. Throwing away 42 years of my Mormon life was very therapeutic. All my kids were happy I gave up that religion, as I was a very judgmental Molly Mormon mom. Thereby, they were all supportive of their father and me leaving the church. So thus far, my life’s experiences have led to the Real Truth™.
The MWAW®, The Real Illuminati®, and The Humanity Party® have all the answers explaining why religion was created and what it is all about. They reveal the truth to help the world population solve and rise out of poverty and to have their unalienable birthrights restored. All of which I support heart and soul and in the best way I can.
* “Sacred, not Secret-The Official Guide in Understanding the LDS Temple Endowment,” “Human Reality-who we are and why we exist,” “666-The Mark of America Seat of the Beast,” “Without Disclosing My True Identity- The Authorized and Official Biography of the Mormon Prophet Joseph Smith, Jr.,” and “The Sealed Portion-The Final Testament of Jesus Christ,” “Pentateuch Illuminated,” and “The True History of Religion” are all free downloads on line available for anyone. The sincere seeker of Real Truth™ will find them.
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