Back in the 80’s and 90’s when I was just a kid, each May 27th I used to look forward to my birthday with unbridled excitement! It was always a private family affair with my parent and sibling and one close friend. It was a normal yearly occurrence where I looked forward in excitement to a happy day! That is, until I turned 16. From then on, the cult soiled any chance of me finding a reason to celebrate the annual recurrence of my birth…
From then on, the cult soiled any chance of me finding a reason to celebrate the annual recurrence of my birth.…
It was May, 1997. The year before, I had enjoyed my 15th birthday as usual with a friend and my family. It was a fantastic spring day that year and we all enjoyed a BBQ in the park as usual. Instead of a traditional cake, we typically delighted ourselves on the decadence of cinnamon buns with cream-cheese icing after a meal of BBQ’d hot dogs and fantastic cheese-burgers. Life was awesome! My family and my best friend had a fantastic time each year. Little did I know, that 15th birthday was the last birthday I would ever “enjoy”. My next few birthdays, starting in 1997, I would be deprived of my family and friends while I was sentenced as a youth to our cult’s gulag.
Little did I know, that 15th birthday was the last birthday I would ever “enjoy”.
Just two months before my 16th birthday, the cult’s church-school had sentenced me to the Canaan Land program. They never told me they would keep me there until I was 16, 17, and 18. So my 16th birthday was spent in abject isolation from my family and friends. It was no birthday celebration at all. I already knew that I would be hours away from my family while I was held in Big River, but the promise of getting to at least talk to my family over the phone was the only thing I was looking forward to!
That Friday evening before my 16th birthday, I eagerly anticipated the click of my parent picking up the phone after I dialed them from my remote Canaan Land location. As the ringing persisted after I dialed their number, their answering machine interrupted. So I hung up and hit redial. This was the first time I was even allowed to contact them since the day I arrived 2 months ago in March! I was prevented from contacting anyone by phone until I was 8 weeks into the Canaan Land program, so this 8-week point was hugely important to me on my birthday! The 2nd redial prompted the answering machine again, so I did another redial. I was so excited to hear from my parent for the first time in 8 weeks! The 3rd redial went to voicemail and I attempted a 4th redial and let it ring…and ring…and ring.
As it turned out, my parent was not informed by the Canaan Land gulag that I was only permitted to call anyone on Friday evenings. My parent was at work that Friday evening and they only saw the Caller ID when they returned from work later that same evening. But I presumed it would be just fine… I could just call my parent the next day to talk to them on my actual 16th birthday, right? Right!?!
Well, no… Garbage human-beings aren’t permitted to call their own family on their birthday, according to Canaan Land’s rules. I was denied access to the phone to call my parent on my actual 16th birthday a couple of days later. And of course, my parent couldn’t call in to reach me either. Rather, the only option my parent had left was to write me a letter, similar to a jail prisoner receiving pre-screened letters from their family. Except I was now 16, and being held in a church’s remote disciplinary gulag against my will on my “sweet-16th” birthday.
I was denied access to the phone to call my parent on my actual 16th birthday a couple of days later. And of course, my parent couldn’t call in to reach me either. Rather, the only option my parent had left was to write me a letter, similar to a jail prisoner receiving pre-screened letters from their family.
To this day, since May 1997, the bitterness of celebrating my own birthday every May reminds me of the isolation and numbness I felt back in 1997. The sting of abandonment by the people I was raised to trust, and the resulting hopelessness, nullified that special thing I once held important in my life – the celebration of my own birth. Instead, in 1997 when I was a 16-year-old youth who was inexplicably sentenced to the Canaan Land program by my cult, I became familiar with the feeling of isolation and loneliness.
That was 28 years ago for me now. If anyone reading this feels that same sting, just know that it gets better. Life is sweet, bitter, and confusing… But it’s worth it! It’s an opportunity to forge new traditions, create joyful moments, and surround yourself with people who uplift your spirit with hope. Your past doesn’t dictate your future; it adds meaningful depth to your story. Embrace the strength that comes from overcoming the past, and let every day be a celebration of your resilience and growth. You have the power to transform your narrative, to be yourself, and to fill each day with the love and happiness you deserve.