It began in a cemetery, as I said goodbye to my favorite aunt. My sister-in-law, Sue, a devoted Christian as well, pulled me aside and said, "Things aren't so good at our house. Joe's becoming more and more abusive to the children."

Our family? Could it be? Later as I listened to details of Joe's treatment of their children, Kari, age 7, and Samuel, 12, it was obvious that he was hurting them emotionally, verbally, and physically. My husband Paul, who had some professional experience with such situations, encouraged Sue to seek a temporary injunction, since confronting Joe with his words and actions resulted only in angry denial.

A week into the three week separation period, Kari must have felt safe enough to divulge another area in which Joe had violated her...sexually. In shock, Sue wasn't able to verbalize this to anyone for another week and then she chose to tell me. Not wanting to believe it, Paul and I spoke with Joe. "That's normal!" he said, "Families do that all the time." Then he shouted, "I'm a born-again Christian! My sins are forgiven!" He accused us of taking away his parental rights, refused to see a counselor, and vowed to "get his children back."

My revulsion turned to fear as Joe, who had always seemed weak and vacillating, began harassing and stalking Kari and Samuel. Sue, who was staunchly against divorce, began to hesitantly consider it as lawyers advised against a simple separation for the children's sake. I began to see what pain can be inflicted by well-meaning believers. In addition to the acute stress she was under, Sue received condemning letters from pastors who thought she was committing the worst sin possible -- divorce.

Because of antiquated state laws, our pleas for protection fell on deaf ears. There never seemed to be "enough" evidence. Sue's lawyer asked us to go to our hometown and try to uncover proof that Joe had threatened people. The search was futile. He had always been a misfit with few real friends but had never threatened to hurt anyone. When two children from Sue's side of the family clearly described Joe sexually abusing them in another state, their videotaped testimony was thrown out of court. I plunged into near despair. What could we do? I began to have terrific lower-back pain and ended up in bed for weeks. My intense prayers and those of our prayer group were certainly not being answered quickly!

Then a close childhood friend divulged a long-kept secret. She, too, had been molested continuously by Joe throughout her childhood. This admission nearly tore me apart. I had always been the caretaker of my younger brother, sisters, and friends. How could all of this have taken place in our home? There was no way I could "take care of" them now. The entire situation was out of my hands. Only Psalm 37 gave me hope: Trust in the Lord...He will make your righteousness shine like the noonday sun ... the Lord will not abandon (them) to (their) enemy's power.

The pieces began to fit together. As one psychiatrist explained, Joe preyed only on children, so of course there was no evidence except children's testimonies. He had never tried to harm adults and was a classic manipulator. But how could we convince the courts that he was dangerous to the children? As each court appearance failed to provide protection, the tension heightened. Sue's therapist suggested a frightening, but possibly necessary action -- sending Sue and the children on "the underground" to begin a new life elsewhere.

I journaled my desperate thoughts as we were told Joe had the right to take the children to visit relatives over Easter break. These people had completely rejected Sue and me for standing against Joe and refused to help as we tried to unravel the mystery of how he himself almost surely had been molested as a child. My mind reeled. How could we allow this to happen? I began to write about how Sue must feel, working with terminally ill people all day and going home to this horrendous situation each night.

Then, as spring break began, Joe failed in an attempt to kidnap Samuel from Sunday School. Finally, there was evidence! A judge rescinded Joe's visitation rights, ordering a family meeting with a psychiatrist, who within a short time witnessed Joe's violent behavior and recommended he undergo long-term therapy. Joe refused, and was barred from all contact with the children. My sigh of relief resounded throughout the nation as praying friends heard the news. Though more than a year had passed since my aunt's funeral, and at times it seemed as if the pain would never end, God had been true to the psalmist's promise.

Samuel and Kari have blossomed with continued therapy. Sue's testimony before our state legislature was instrumental in the passage of a stalking law. I have been set free from trying to rescue and caretake in relationships, and the verses I painfully scrawled in the thick of the battle have become a ministry!

As life returned to normal, I had an inner sense that I couldn't simply put the verses I had written away in a drawer-- they needed to be used to comfort others. After receiving kind rejection letters from several card companies, the idea of producing cards myself repeatedly occurred to me. With fear and trembling and no business sense whatsoever, I cashed in a $50.00 bond Grandma had bought when I was born and began The Sometimes Line.

Now, several years later, all across the United States, in Canada, and even in Scotland, those phrases in the form of sympathy cards and bookmarks, are comforting people through hospices and pastoral care departments. As I started to travel, exhibiting the card line at conventions, tremendous healing began to take place at my booth, both for me and for others. As people asked me where the cards originated, I was able to verbalize the story and feel more whole.

An especially healing moment was when I apologized to a bereavement counselor for the lump in my throat as I explained the "Sometimes" story. She said, "Of course you have trouble talking about this! It's a bereavement! So many relationships died. Innocence died. Of course you have tears as you speak of it!"

There is a tremendous joy in having my words help people. Like most Americans, my heart went out to the citizens of Oklahoma City in April, 1995. Imagine the satisfaction I felt when counselors in that city ordered my child loss cards to send to the families who were suffering!

And to think, all of this began in a cemetery!

Gail Kittleson's line of special cards can be ordered by phone or fax to 515/823-4361 or writing to The Sometimes Line, Box 638, Greene IA 50636. Check out her website as well.