Feb 12, 2005


When I was 9, we moved to Texas to join a Christian commune. I've talked about it before, in fragments like one on praying, and will continue to do so. I don't want to talk about it as a whole, as an entire story, because it seems to sweep too much of it away, package too much of it in a box that can be disregarded.

A big chunk of my childhood is there, though. So I end up talking about it. At least in bits and pieces and images of five years where I was growing up.

It seems I can't talk about it, and I can't not talk about it. When we were out, before we moved away when we were friends with this circle of ex-fellowship people, the best times were when we didn't need to talk about the past and the pain, but just sort of all knew. Christianity Today wrote a piece on the group that, if it doesn't show they're a cult, shows the attraction, shows what we saw and why we went to Texas when I was 9.