Memories of Hell: Visions of Heaven tells the story of a young girl who, despite a violent childhood, allows her resilient spirit to envision a world without suffering. On the beautiful island of Saint Lucia, Esther grows up with the ugly side of human nature. Wounded, and with the odds stacked against her, Esther is “sleepwalking†through life. Recognizing that her fragmented soul seeks healing, Esther begins a journey around the world, where she learns to love herself again. Esther is now determined to help others find their way, from a world of continued violence, to a place of healing. This powerful testimony offers encouragement and alternatives to those trapped in the crushing grip of violence. Through the voice of a survivor, Esther teaches us how to break the cycle, and move to the incredible power of forgiveness.
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Esther Joseph. Memories of Hell, Visions of Heaven
Introduction
Christmas Princess
Religion in the Mix
Meet the Folks
Bloody Fridays
There’s Another Way
Helen of the West
And One More Makes Eight
Let Us Go to the House of the Lord
The Revolving Door
Tell Me Why!
Good, Bad, or Just Different?
Daddy Dearest
In His Image
Out of the Frying Pan, Into the Fire
The Day My Music Stopped
Run, Esther, Run!
A Certain Kind of Calm
America Has Shed Her Grace on Us
From Sea to Shining Sea
A Place to Call Our Own
By Any Means Necessary
The Name Game
The High Cost of Lust
A “Raydio” of Hope
My Name is Star
Deeper In the Murky Muck I Go
Can’t Touch This
A Wasted Life, a Dream Unfulfilled?
There’s A Power in the Spoken Word
Take a Trip Inward
Give Yourself the Gift of Forgiveness
Family Matters, So Make Tough Choices
Consider the Family Ties That Continue to Bind You
Change Is Possible When Yearned With Every Fiber of the Being
Emotionally Healthy Children = A Peaceful World For All
Make Time To Connect To The Universe. It Is Our Greatest Teacher
Отрывок из книги
I am sitting at the kitchen table of my childhood Saint Lucian home writing a letter. Bridges, my white German shepherd mix, is lying behind me making a strange whiny sound. He is smart, and knows how to push my buttons. I spoil him always giving in to whatever he wants, the moment he wants them. I repeatedly ask him to stop making that annoying sound, but he does not obey.
In anger and frustration, I turn around and hit him on the nose with the pen I am using —its point upwards. The pen pierces his right eye, injuring it. Realizing what I have done, I quickly run to the kitchen sink, grab a towel, soak it in cold water, and place it on his injured eye. But Bridges recoils, whimpering, rubbing his watery, wounded eye. I start crying uncontrollably.
.....
When I was about ten or eleven years old, my body started to develop, even I was becoming aware of my body odor. Since my father barely provided enough money for food, luxury items like toothpaste, body lotions, and fragrant soaps were extravagances we could rarely afford. On the few occasions when we were able to purchase such products, they were gone as soon as they appeared. With little access to deodorants and soaps, Jeanette’s fancy fragrances and body splashes were exactly what my body needed. They were irresistible!
On her return Friday evenings from her week at school and work, she would head directly to her corner of our bedroom. She would examine her dresser closely and knew instantly whether any of her items had been touched. Although she knew exactly who’d done it, she’d grant the courtesy of asking, “Who touched my stuff?” Since everyone knew who the culprit was, no one answered. She’d answer her own question by screaming, “Esta!” at the top of her lungs.
