We were luckier than most because we only lost power for a few hours and passed the time affably. The children rode sleds outside or stayed indoors and colored and read. As the sky grew dark the last few came inside and we gathered around the fireplace with our dinner and blankets. The house grew very dark and, inevitably, as fireside gatherings go, the ghost stories began.

In his usual fashion, my husband began a story benignly enough. There was a haunted house and a pond. To my chagrin, the story grew more sinister and there was murder by drowning, an unsolved mystery and, of course, a ghost. As he told the story, he pretended to have been body snatched by the ghost. Our teenagers egged him on, absolutely thrilled. The younger kids and I, however, begged Daddy to stop. His token answer? “I am not your Daddy. I am The Ghost of the Pond.” Our pleadings went ignored.

As the story ensued, Rick, who had suddenly become “Daddy” again, heard a noise upstairs and announced that he was going to check it out. I groaned. I knew what this meant.

I must preface by explaining that, my husband, Rick, loves to spook me and the kids by turning out the lights and hiding in corners sometimes. On this occasion, he had the perfect set up. The power outage had ensured that there was not a single room we could escape to and turn lights back on. The whole house was his playground. We were completely at his mercy.

It is a mental game. I have learned that I must not show any weakness and bravely pretend that I’m bored by his antics. If it doesn’t discourage him, sometimes we tag team him and [try to] wrestle him to the ground while another turns on the lights.

Sounds of struggle and screams came from upstairs. Rick made a big show of hooting and hollering and slamming into walls to sound as though he were being attacked by a gang of robbers. The hysteria mounted downstairs and my youngest, Susie, clung to me and begged me to pray to make him stop. I was completely exasperated at that point and had little hope of making him stop. But I couldn’t say no to prayer. So I tried to pray over the noise, “God, PLEASE STOP THIS NONSENSE!”

Around the same time, their Daddy had decided to continue his spectacle by practically throwing himself down the short flight of steps into the den where we all huddled together in his mock attack. As soon as the words came out of my mouth, the power instantly went back on and we were showered in light. My husband suddenly looked awfully silly.

There was a stunned moment when we all realized that God had literally pulled the plug on Rick’s show exposing him as nothing more than their dad just making a lot of noise. The kids started cheering. My prayer had worked. God beat the bogey man!! I was struck by the hilarity of God’s timing and couldn’t stop laughing. Even Rick was amazed and felt a little sheepish, bless his heart.

As I reflected on this later, still chuckling to myself, it brought to mind a deeper truth. The real bogeyman, Satan, tries to makes us afraid so often. In our fear he can control us by paralyzing us into not acting or speaking. In truth, he is nothing but smoke and mirrors and a phony. If we are children of God, we have nothing to fear.

For there is nothing hidden which shall not be made manifest; nor does any secret thing take place, but that it should come to light. Mark 4:22

Copyright 2012 Victoria Gisondi

These words have been a popular exclamation in my home time and time again. God is so deeply involved in our daily cares that I am sometimes surprised when people don’t have eyes to see  it or refuse to “bother” God with mundane prayers for things like parking spots or lost keys and therefore miss the opportunity to see His love. Somehow by grace, this little habit of noticing little favors and graces granted to us by God out loud by exclaiming “See, Jesus love me/you!” stuck with me and eventually stuck with my children. Yes, Jesus loves me!

What amazes me even more is when I see God working in my children’s lives DESPITE me. Let me explain:

One time my preschooler was attending her older siblings’ field day at school. She wanted to stay to the end because that’s when the school handed out ice pops to all the kids. Things were going well until my daughter said something disrespectful as a teacher walked by. The teacher was surprised by it. (This was all reported to me second hand by her older sister). I was embarrassed and decided that we would leave before the ice pops were distributed as a punishment. My daughter cried so despairingly as I picked her up and buckled her into the carseat that it surprised me. It wasn’t until she had caught her breath enough to explain what happened that I realized it had been a huge misunderstanding. I had never even thought to question the occurrence but acted immediately. I felt terrible but not enough to turn around.  All this fuss for an ice pop? I don’t know why but I was inspired to say to her, “Listen, don’t cry. I’m sorry. Just pray and Jesus will provide you with an ice pop.”

I know I am a wicked and lazy mother. But God is not.  She took a nap and the pop was soon forgotten by us. But, of course, not by God. That evening I got a phone call from my mother who wanted to stop by for dinner. When she pulled up to the house she honked in her customary manner and we helped her get some things out of the trunk that she had purchased for the kids. The last thing she pulled out was an entire case of, you guessed it, ice pops!  Amazed, I quickly ran to get Susie to show her. She was thrilled and I kept saying “See?! Jesus loves you!” ( even when your own mother is rotten). I was as excited as she was that God loved her enough to bless her with her ice pops- a whole case of them. Moreover, I was personally touched at  how God was just and blessed her  DESPITE my injustice and despite ME. It brings tears to my eyes as I remember it.

These things have happened in my home time and time again so I was surprised one day to hear my husband echo my own words to me. That’s not to say he didn’t embrace our family motto, but he had always been a a quiet observer and I never thought he gave the matter much thought.

We were at his Baptist church one morning picking seats near the front to see the children sing some Christmas songs for the parents. I was happy that we had found seats near the front until I realized  we were on the wrong side of the church and the kids would be filing out and singing from the steps at the opposite end of the church. That’s what they had done the previous year and that’s why the seats had been too easy to find. I grumbled something to my husband and we were both slightly disappointed.

The service started and soon the kids started filing out. To my surprise, they kept on walking right past the steps and marched over to our side of the church and stopped directly in front of us. They were so close I could see up their noses! (ok, not really) My husband smiled and turned to me and said, “See? Jesus loves you!”

Copyright 2012 Victoria Gisondi

I used to speed. Not dangerously but faster than the speed limit. First of all I never really looked at my spedometer and secondly, I had the notion that speed limits where sort of just…nice but optional. Every once in a while I was conscious that I had surprisingly never made it a habit to look at my spedometer or go below 35 miles an hour but then I would shrug it off. I wasnt a dare-devil speeder that endangers lives. That’s who the cops go after. I figured most normal citizens drive the way I do otherwise I would have gotten a ticket by now.

My attitude seeped into my job. When I became a school bus driver, I prided myself on getting the kids to school on time and maybe even some minutes before the bell. There was always a line-up of buses in front of the school entrance. If your bus was at the end of that line, the kids inevitably arrived later than their counterparts and grumbled that they would miss First Bell. Well, my kids would not miss first bell! In order to do this I had to drive at a…well, let’s just call it a “quick pace”.

Once when I was driving my bus route on a busy back road, I caught sight of some parents at the end of a driveway most likely waiting for another school bus. A dad motioned me with his hands to slow down. Was he talking to me? What a grump! Some people just love to complain!

Another time the director of transportation of the school called me. Apparently somebody in one of the neighborhoods where I made a stop called to complain about my speed. The director was very kind and gently relayed the news to me but, I was stung. I wasn’t going THAT fast. What kind of namby pamby goes out of her way to write down a bus number, look up the school in the directory and complain about a school bus driver? Somebody with no time on their hands, that’s for sure. We bus drivers are the good guys. We have schedules to adhere to. We get kids to school before First Bell. Some people!

Some family and friends were tickled by my new job as a bus driver and I would often get reports from people who spotted me. My brother-in-law had spotted a yellow school bus, he once told me. The bus was coming from the opposite direction. He was making a left and figured he had plenty of time to turn before the bus approached him. He started to turn slightly and halted. He had been mistaken. There was definitely no window of opportunity to make a left (unless he wanted to die). He glanced up as the bus whizzed by and he saw what he described as a driver on a mission, shoulders hunched forward and vision straight ahead. Then he realized that driver was me.

After this story was relayed to me I started wondering if maybe I did have a problem. Worse, I wondered if I had put my students’ lives in danger by my OCD tendency to have the kids to school no later than 8:05. I was now aware and a seed was planted. I started slowing down a but not totally.But at that time, I was not fully cured.

My career took a different turn (pun intended) and I no longer drive a bus but kept my CDL current. Last year I was driving down main street on my way to morning mass. Main Street is lined with pesky annoying 25 MPH signs. I have lived in this town for over twleve years and never once been stopped for going a little faster than the exaggeratedly-slow request of 25 MPH. I didn’t have to rationalize at all. I simply didn’t pay attention to my spedometer and drove at a comfortable speed. My husband’s car did something strange then. Apparently some fancy cars actually talk to you when there is an engine problem or low tire pressue. The car was warning me of low tire pressure and possibly a flat tire. Technology is amazing. My attention was devoted to the warning displayed on the dashboard screen when suddenly flashing lights in my rearview mirror stole my attention. Some poor guy was being pulled over. Wait, that cop was following me! I was being pulled over. I couldn’t believe it.

When the police officer asked for the registration cards I was such a nervous mess that I didn’t know where my husband kept his information. The cop told me, on a hunch, to look in the glove compartment. There they were. I tried not to cry. Some friend you are, I argued internally with God. Is this the way you treat somebody who is heading to mass? The cop took my license and turned it over. You drive a bus, he asked. Yes, I told him, hoping this would show him what a good citizen I am. It was a white lie. I didnt currently drive a bus, but I could if I was asked to. I mean, people like me dont get speeding tickets. Maybe the fancy car made him think I was stuck-up and had ideas that I was above the law but now that he saw my devotion to the children of the world by being a bus driver, he would go easy on me. I didn’t get out of a 90 dollar ticket but the police man showed me some mercy and I didnt get any points due to my CDL. Of course, I wasn’t gratfeul at that moment until a coworker explained to me that it could have been much worse and how unsual it is to not get points for speeding 20 miles over the speed limit.

I drove to mass even though I was late. All the while I cried. My pride was hurt. My feelings were hurt. My ego was bruised. But I will say this, after that day I was cured. I now check my spedometer often and I could tell you the speed limit on most streets in my hood. Ok, I am not sinless and might go 20 MPH when it says 15 but I keep it real. But being “cured” of my need for speed is more than just having a fear of law enoforcement. Something sunk in and I marvel at how naive I was to think that my car was always under my complete control. What if i was going 35 MPH in a neighborhood and a kid darted out in front of me? What if had slammed into my brother-in-law that day and killed him? It’s as though God gently and gradually impressed upon me something important and was gracious enough not to let me hurt anybody during the learning process. That’s just His way.

Copyright 2012 Victoria Gisondi

“Mom, did you wait?”

I told her the truth. Not only did I NOT wait till my wedding night to have sex for the first time but I lived a very promiscuous life which caused me much grief and sadness.  I told her God’s desire for her was that she would have more in life.

Back then, we didn’t have Theology of the Body for teens or fabulous chastity speakers.  Our understanding of sex was all about avoidance of hell had nothing to do with understanding the reflection of God’s amazing love in uniting our flesh with another’s in a reflection of the trinity.  There was no Theology of the Body for Teens.

And yet, although I could my best to explain to my daughters that sex outside of God’s  plan for marriage is just a counterfeit, what was truly missing from my life was simply a question of TRUST and RELATIONSHIP.

You see, I had completely forgotten that my life was created to be in relationship with HIM and that if I surrendered  to Him, He would take care of the details- even down to preparing the man that would one day be my husband.

“Seek ye first the kingdom of God and all his righteousness and all these things shall be added unto you.”

See, the biggest lie Satan tells teenage girls is that they are missing out. They are “missing  out” when they don’t have a boyfriend and all their friends do. Satan tells girls that a boy’s “love” will fill a void in their heart and make them enviable and beautiful.

What nobody tells girls is that if she seeks Christ’s love FIRST she will be pursued by the lover of lovers beyond her wildest dreams and enter into the most exciting relationship of her life.  Seriously.  I don’t know if I would have believed that Christ would be as satisfying, as romantic, as handsome and as real-flesh as a boyfriend. Nobody ever told me. And so I imagined being “good” as a stoic pursuit of “not doing” and all that was un-fun and I failed.

If I had known it was as easy as falling in love with God and living my vocation as daughter, student and sister, the rest would play itself out. I wish my mother had told me that God had my life mapped out for my good down to the smallest detail if I would just stay in His will and trust Him; that His plan for me would be better than the one I could formulate on my own and that if I kept myself pure I would know much joy peace.

So, yes, besides the bad consequences of sin, we need to convince our daughters  to have a relationship with Christ that is constantly nourished by prayer, by EUCHARIST and adoration.  As I write this I am painfully aware of how much I have been avoiding my own relationship with my greatest love, Jesus . So, let me reiterate, the best way to show our daughters is by doing it ourselves first, by example.

Copyright 2011 Victoria Garaitonandia Gisondi

I wish everybody knew this. My biggest frustration is running into Christians who have very flawed or biased information about Catholicism. They are usually educated in evangelical circles and have a good knowledge of scripture- or rather, a great memory for scripture verses. I say this because time and time again, I find that the scripture they have been spoon-fed since birth is mostly eisegesis. The bible was never meant to be interpreted by verse but as a whole.

In some churches I have personally witnessed a lot of time spent on explaining what a bible verse does NOT mean as opposed to what it DOES mean with the sole agenda of disproving Catholic doctrine. Verses that are pretty obvious at face value are taken out context and explained away. One typical example is the Bread of Life discourse in John 6 or the need for baptism for salvation.

I recently crossed paths with a fundamentalist who was so vehemently opposed to the Catholicism she warned me of my impending doom if I continued to trust in the “traditions of sinful men”. Somehow she had the mistaken notion that the Catholic church must be a result of many man-made traditions none of which originate in scripture.

There is truly a disconnect there. First of all, she is confusing erroneous human traditions for Apostolic Tradition. The CCC defines tradition this way:

#81 “Sacred Scripture is the speech of God as it is put down in writing under the breath of the Holy Spirit.” And [Holy] Tradition transmits in its entirety the Word of God which has been entrusted to the apostles by Christ the Lord and the Holy Spirit. It transmits it to the successors of the apostles so that, enlightened by the Spirit of truth, they may faithfully preserve, expound, and spread it abroad by their preaching.

#82 As a result the Church, to whom the transmission and interpretation of Revelation is entrusted, “does not derive her certainty about all revealed truths from the Holy Scriptures alone. Both Scripture and Tradition must be accepted and honored with equal sentiments of devotion and reverence.”

#83 The Tradition here in question comes from the apostles and hands on what they received from Jesus’ teaching and example and what they learned from the Holy Spirit. The first generation of Christians did not yet have a written New Testament, and the New Testament itself demonstrates the process of living Tradition.

The disconnect is that she was using the very bible that was SAFEGUARDED by the Tradition of the Catholic church and declared canonical by the authority of bishops (through the Holy Spirit) to try and DISprove the need for the Catholic Church or the priesthood or bishops or Tradition or anything but the bible alone. That’s like saying to a child that his mother was irrelevant in bringing him into the world. A child without a mother is an orphan and herein lies the problem.

An orphan has to make his own way in the world. He has nobody to turn to for guidance and for authority. He makes his own way. He may be a good child but a misguided child who has lost his family history.

When Christ promised not to leave us orphans he meant to leave us a VISIBLE church- a mother; a visible authority, guidance and protection. He said He would build his church on Peter. We do not think Peter built the church. We do not rely on the “traditions of sinful men”. We believe it is the Holy Spirit’s power safeguarding Christ’s teaching to us. We know that if it were up to mere men our faith would have been lost long ago. But because Christ promised that not even the gates of Hades would have power of this protection- that this protection was under “lock and key” we know we can trust in His promise.

If Christ not leaving us orphans by sending the Spirit to guide us only meant that each denomination had to fend for themselves and trust that they alone have the correct interpretation of what the Holy Spirit has revealed as truth, He could have skipped over this whole “scene” with Peter and gone straight to Pentecost. It can’t be every man/church for himself. As we can see, this is very problematic. Does the Holy Spirit teach one church that infant baptism is ok and then another that it is not? Sure, they will say that those things are nonessential or don’t matter but that doesn’t fly. He meant for us to be “one” as He and His father are one.

Christ prayed in a very strong way for unity in His church. He gave us a visible head. He gave us “Peter the Rock” ,not “Peter the Pebble”. The rock is Christ IN Peter, not Peter himself or Peter’s statement of faith. Peter’s authority is evident throughout scriptures particularly in the circumcision dispute.Once Peter spoke the issue was settled. After Christ revealed Himself to Paul, Paul went first to Peter to get “okayed” as an apostle. There is a reason for that. When Christ says something, He means it.

Paul knew without doubt that it was Christ who had appeared to Him but he went to Peter in obedience. Jesus knew he did not need baptism but He went to John to get baptized in obedience. Mary was not impure but went to perform the cleansing ritual after Christ’s birth in obedience.

What happens when we don’t obey our parents? We learn things the hard way. In throwing out Tradition and holding only on to Scripture only you have kicked out one leg of a stool and it won’t stand. Scripture alone is like that orphan looking through old family photo albums without his mother to tell him who his Uncle Benny was and what really happened in the Fourth of July family photo. He has only his best guess and vague memory to help him remember. How can somebody know for sure what the authors of scripture intended without the assurance of that Tradition that passed it down to us?

Be thankful today for the gift of Mother Church who shows us the surest way to go and guides us safely, not coincidentally like our Mother, Mary, who does the same. Be thankful for both Tradition and the holy Scriptures that have been kept intact because of the promise of our Father. Be thankful for the safekeeping of our family album of Saints- our true relatives who have not been separated by death because we are one Body. Not only are we NOT orphans but our family is HUGE. We are so blessed!

Copyright 2011 Victoria Gisondi

A special thank you to Victoria Gisondi for conducting this Catholic Book Spotlight interview with Arlene McGinley, author of Attic Alone: An Ex-Jehovah’s Witness Finds the Church.

Hi Arlene, would you kindly introduce us to yourself and tell us a little bit about you, your life here as a parishioner at St Jude’s, how many years you have been here and the ministries you may be involved in?

My husband Jim and I have been members of St Jude parish for five years. I am a convert and he is a revert.  We are both weekly participants in the Blessed Sacrament Guild Alter Society.  In other words, we, with about ten other volunteers, help clean the church every Friday morning at 9:30 a.m. and we always welcome extra helpers.  Jim is very active with the Pro-Life group and Knights of Columbus.

You currently had a biography of your life published.  I had the pleasure of reading one of the first editions of your book Attic Alone and I am currently reading it again. I can honestly say it is a captivating biography. Without giving too much away, can you tell the readers what your book is about?

The book is about my childhood where I spent many hours in the attic alone, and my young adulthood in a Jehovah’s Witness family ruled by my father and grandmother. I reveal how the teachings of the Watchtower caused great internal conflict because it was like living in two different worlds.  I had reason to doubt what I was taught at the Kingdom Hall because my school friends and my neighbors were different from us. At twenty-six I broke free from the Witnesses and began celebrating holidays, but spent ten years in a spiritual void while seeking a normal life.That normal life included a new husband and moving an hour away from my family and hometown. It felt as though chains had been broken off of me and my life changed dramatically.At thirty-six I discovered that Jesus is not Michael the archangel as I had been taught by the Watchtower. He is not just one of many sons of God. He is God the Son!  I attended a Baptist Church, was baptized and learned the basic doctrines of Christianity. It was a long journey to the Catholic Church, but upon reflection, one can see how the Holy Spirit was gently leading me along the path to the fullness of the Church founded on Peter that the gates of Hell will not prevail against.

Why or how you were inspired to put your life events into a story?

For the past twenty-five years, I have been sharing my story with others by writing articles, speaking publicly, and privately emailing with people leaving the Watchtower organization. Many people encouraged me to write a book, but I always felt that my story, as written, was not complete. When Jim and I began studying and reading about Church history, we learned a great deal about the Church fathers and saints. We discovered EWTN, the Eternal Word Television Network and began watching many programs. At the same time, our daughter was in RCIA at St. Jude Church. The next year, Jim and I attended RCIA and came into the Church. I knew that my story was now complete. I was where I needed to be when I came home to the one, holy, catholic and apostolic Church. Now that my days on this earth have grown shorter, I felt the need to have my story available in print to others who are breaking free from Jehovah’s Witnesses and the Watchtower publishing company.

Your book is more than just a biography. Would you agree that it is a ministry to reach others?  Can you tell us more about that?

Yes, it is a ministry, not only for those who are leaving the Witnesses, but also for those who have no church affiliation and for those who are in the churches. It is quite easy to be taken in by the smiling faces at your door who offer Bible study aids that are actually the writings of unidentified men.  It is estimated that seventy-five percent of Jehovah’s Witnesses have some Catholic background.

For those of us that are not acquainted with the doctrines of JW what can you  tell us and why is this ministry so close to your heart?

The Watchtower is a very controlling publishing company that dictates how Jehovah’s Witnesses live their everyday lives.  Basic Christian doctrines are denied. They deny life after death except for themselves. They practice shunning those who leave. This ministry is close to my heart because I have three sisters who are still Jehovah’s Witnesses and they have had no relationship with me for the past thirty-six years, for half of my life, because I told them that salvation is in Jesus, not in the Watchtower organization.

Your story is incredibly intimate and you share very personal things about how alcoholism, domestic violence and other forms of abuse directly affected you. Would you say your experience is common among JW’s or not?

Yes, it is as common among the Witnesses as it is among the general population.

Was this difficult for you to put on paper for others to see? Has there been any back lash from family members?

It was very difficult for me write on paper or to enter my story onto the computer over the past twenty years. I often wept, but it was very healing to release the pain I felt. I gave it all over to the Lord. There has been no family lash back because my sisters are not allowed to read anything I write. My husband and my children are supportive.

Do you  keep  in touch with any family members that you grew up with? What about your first husband?

I have three younger brothers that escaped becoming Jehovah’s Witnesses. We love and appreciate each other, but distance and health issues prevent us from seeing each other very often. My first husband is deceased.

What would you say was the final turning point for you in leaving Kingdom Hall?

Being abandoned with three children to support by myself was a turning point because it made me realize that I was living a life that was not working. My life was built on hopes that were not believable.

Are there others that followed you into the church or, rather, out of Kingdom Hall?

My younger brothers refused baptism and stopped attending the meetings. My small children escaped being further exposed to the teachings of the Watchtower and they are baptized Christians.

I know this book was 20 years in the making. Are you currently working on any other projects? Do you see any other published books in your future?

My current work involves being on Internet support groups for those who leave the Watchtower. Recently, I joined a Catholic yahoo group where I met another ex-JW woman and together, we hope to help others appreciate what they have in the one, holy, catholic and apostolic Church. No future book is planned.

How can people purchase your book?

The book, Attic Alone: An Ex-Jehovah’s Witness Finds the Church by A. McGinley and printed by iUniverse, is available in softcover, hardcover and Kindle at Amazon.com. It can be found at Cokesbury.com and ordered from Barnes & Noble. The paperback is presently available in St. Jude Parish gift shop. Hopefully, it will be made available to other Catholic book and gift shops, but I have not had time to look into that kind of distribution.

Are there any other comments you would like to add?

I want to thank you, Victoria, because you have been encouraging me to get my book published for the past four years. I am thankful for all who prayed for me and especially Sister Janet Thaddeus for her prayers and advice. If anyone wants to email me, send it to:  atticalone.amcginley@gmail.com

Order Attic Alone: An Ex-Jehovah’s Witness Finds the Church and support CatholicMom.com with your purchase.


Copyright 2010 Victoria Gisondi

Interview with author Joanna Tenkorang by Victoria Gisondi

Hi Joanna. Firstly, let me thank you for having entrusted me with the reading and review of your wonderful book! I really did enjoy the characters and the story. I had the pleasure of reading your science fiction book Attack on Planet Falrus, which is a story about the adventures of a boy, his friend and a robot and their quest to save their world from tyranny. Without giving too much away, what else would you tell the readers about this book?

Attack on Planet Falrus, although was written for children, is probably more likely to be appreciated by the older children amongst us, or those of us who never grew up! It is all about the utopia I sometimes wish this world to be, and ended up effectively creating in my head. It is my secret home, a great place to be! That is not to say it is a place free of problems – it is a nice mix of utopia and ‘normal life’ where the central theme is family life, a sense of community, and importantly, a sense of order and social cohesion which is key to the happy and carefree life there, and a national spirit similar to the ‘blitz’ mentality of Great Britain during the second world war, all seen through the eyes of a child. I wanted to impart the kind of values I would love to live by, in my own life, in this book, to create a world of shared goals and a desire to help those less fortunate than ourselves (as illustrated by the ‘relationship’ between the Falrusians and the ‘District’ people). In short, alongside the exciting adventures of my young heroes as they get themselves embroiled in the biggest challenge of their young lives, this book’s running theme is also the depiction of an innocent era, perhaps a bygone one?

Your biography mentions that you are a physician and author but I’m sure your readers would like to know more about you personally. Could you introduce us to yourself and tell us more about you? Where do you live? Family? Hobbies? Likes and dislikes?

Yes, I am a physician, a cardiologist by profession, but my first love was writing. I was born in Ghana and brought up a little there, in Togo and Nigeria and in England. I now live in Switzerland, as I work here. My parents were both academics, teaching french and history in a university, so books were all around me from the start. I didn’t just want to read them, I wanted to write them! Apart from writing, my other big passion is cycling. I love the freedom and the sense of abandon that I get when faced with the open road. It’s that ‘me against the road’ feeling. And often, I have no definite plan as to where I will go. Cycling has taken me to some interesting places, for example, the North cape (I cycled from Tromso in Northern Norway all the way, ie almost 400 miles, over 6 days to the North Cape 10 years ago), Holland and all through Great Britain as I cycled the 1000 miles from the Southwest tip of England all the way to the Northeast tip of Scotland in 12 gruelling days (ouch, that was painful especially over the mountains of Scotland, still brings tears to my eyes when I think of it). I love thai food and learning languages, but I am not the biggest fan of vegetables (please don’t tell my Mum!)

Have you always written? Is this your first published book?

I started writing when I was six. Although this book was first written when I was 17, I didn’t have the time to develop the story until recently, due to my studies and eventually my job over the years. Yes, this is the first of my stories to be published.

What can you tell us about your own faith journey that lead you to where you are now?

My mother is a staunch Catholic. So it was inevitable that I was going to be at least raised Catholic. Like most people, I probably took my faith for granted, but over the years, it has definitely helped me. I believe that it is a good thing to have a faith, whatever that may be. The Catholic faith is not a bad one to have, contrary to widespread propaganda, despite all the issues the Church has faced in recent times. That’s a personal opinion based on my own life experiences. As one matures, one realises that there is more to life than meets the eye. In the end, faith, or religion is more logical than science, even though on the face of it, the reverse may seem true. Apologies for the cryptic answer!

I noticed you incorporated your Catholic faith in the books but not overtly. Why did you feel it was important to infuse the culture on Falrus as well as past Line Desimak as a Catholic culture?

That was actually not intentional. It just so happens that in my idea of utopia, some sort of faith is central to the existence of life. It just so happens that the catholic faith is the faith that I know well. So it made sense to incorporate this into the book. I do know a little of other faiths, but not enough to feel confident to, for example, accord these to characters in the book. Interestingly, people from other faiths who have read the book remarked it was nice to have that aspect to the storyline.

The Demba family was very realistic. I loved Giren and Square especially. Are any of the characters based on real life experiences or family members?

Yes, each character in the Demba family and indeed most of the characters in the book are a mix of people I know, their personalities, mannerisms, quirks and idiosyncrasies. My ultimate fear right now is to get a call at midnight from a family member to say, ‘Ah, it’s suddenly hit me! So-and-so in your book is actually me, isn’t it?’ Then I would have to fess up (smile). Giren is a lot like me when I was a child. I had a friend like Square at school. I think most people have a friend like Square at school – you know, the really clever kid who seemed to ooze intelligence and that you were secretly jealous of (smile). The tyrants of the OLD World are not completely fictional to me. The military coups of the 80′s in West Africa helped to shape my imagination, but when I lived through it, it was very real. Anyone who has lived through a military regime would immediately identify with the people of the OLD World. It is an extremely terrifying experience.

There was a lot of science lingo that went over my head in the book, but was quite fascinating, like how life beyond Desimak is older than the Big Bang. Can you share more with your readers about your thoughts on the origins of the universe in general? Could there be life older than the Big Bang?

(Smile) I love this question, because I am by no means an expert on the Big Bang. This is one aspect of the book which is truly fictional. Space and nuclear physics was one of my favourite subjects at school, and as a teenager I was fascinated by atoms, neutrons, planets and galaxies, that sort of thing. Hence the original idea for the book. To answer your questions, I am as much a fan of the Darwin’s theory of evolution as the biblical story of the Creation, with Adam and Eve. In some way, I do not see why these two theories cannot co-exist in a unifying way, i.e. that Darwin is right, but the origin of his complex life forms have to have been created by a divine entity, i.e. God. To my simple mind, there need not be a conflict. The answer to your second question is that no-one really knows. Which is why it is great to fictionize it. It cannot be proved wrong!

What was the inspiration for this story?

The context to the inception of this book is this: Picture a 17 year old, bored after finishing high school exams, waiting to find out if a medical school place is in the offing. Head full of science and an overactive imagination to boot, with a history of writing stories for hours just for the pleasure of putting pen to paper, and six weeks of time to kill with no definite plans for a holiday or any other organised activity (far too impoverished for that!), it was only a matter of time before this kid was going to write a story about life on an unheard-of planet. For self-entertainment. Just for the sheer fun of it. Some might say I needed to get out more, indeed to get a life! But I had so much fun developing the characters and having fun with the science part, it was the best six weeks of my life (well, up to that point!) Then I had more fun recently, ‘tidying’ up the story, rewriting a few parts and getting it ready for publication. I relived the pleasure, reacquainting myself with my ‘secret people’. In short, by that age, I had my own ideas about what the perfect world should look like, and I wanted it to document that somehow, make a snapshot of my thoughts. I was inspired by the need to create something nice, initially for myself, and then to be shared with others. Some do it with music, I like to do it with writing.

Would you say Professor Potty could be a Christ figure in the story or is that reading too much into it?

Wow, I honestly never saw it from that point of view. It is an interesting connection to make, but not one I had in mind when I was writing the book, I must admit! My take on Professor Potty is that kind of ‘big brother’ or young (perhaps unmarried) uncle who can get down to the level of a child and interact with them as such. I had several Professor Potty figures in my life growing up. Quite why I chose a robot to fulfill this role for the kids in this book, I cannot really explain: I guess the robot was always going to be central to the story, and some sort of adult figure was required to ‘help’ the kids, so it made sense to use the robot in this way! I guess this relationship between a child or children and a non-human adult is not unique to my book…as an example I could cite that between the Terminator and Edward Furlong’s character, John Connor. It was a beautiful friendship, bordering on a father-son relationship, don’t you think? Especially in this case given that John Connor was indeed fatherless (and actually, vrtually motherless for much of his life too).

I would call your genre science fiction geared towards children. Why did you pick this age group? Have you written any stories for adults?

Again, interesting and actually insightful question. It may well be purely because I was a ‘child’ myself when I first wrote this book. I have also written fiction for adults, in my adult life. I do however prefer to write for children. It is that refusal to grow up, I guess, the eternal desire to entertain first the child within, and then other (real) children. I love the innocence associated with childhood, and I guess this is my way of preserving it for myself and others.

At one point in the story, Giren is conflicted on whether to tell his father about his “adventure” or keep it between Square and himself. Why do you think Giren chose what he did and is there a lesson in this for children?

To answer this question, I would ask anyone reading this to revert to their own childhood. Remember the feeling od wanting to do something for yourself, rather than asking anyone else, least of all an adult, and least of all your parent for help? Remember the need for independence? We have all done this in one way or another. I love that ‘us against them’ attitude children sometimes adopt against grown ups. It is fearless, it is noble, and it is natural. As an adult now, I react with an ‘Ahhh, bless’ when I see it in action. It is part of growing up. It is a necessary step before adulthood. It is being stubborn, obstinate and sometimes naive. But as Frank Sinatra reflected in his famous song, it is a good feeling to know that ‘I did it my way’. That little decision Giren took was my way of saluting all our little friends who choose to do something (hopefully good and not naughty), their way. In many ways, it is an ode to adventurous children of which I was one. It’s what childhood is all about.  It is also why I chose that particular acknowledgement at the start of the book.

Life beyond Desimak is a place of tyranny and oppression, but Falrus is a place of freedom. Is there any reason for this?

As is often the case in life, where there is good, in another part, there is evil, unfortunately. It’s like yin and yang. To fully appreciate the (almost) perfect life in Falrus, I feel one has to feel the pain of the District people. But even there, it’s not all about pain and suffering. They are wonderful people, with goodwill and kind hearts. They too are people just like the Falrusian people, but who just happen to find themselves in a tricky situation. In many ways, what happened to the District people could have happened to anyone, even the Falrusians. One never knows, in this life.

When can we expect the second book in the series?

Not very long. I shall let you into a secret. It is now finished! Just watch this space for the release date in the next year, I hope.

Is there anything else you would like to share with readers?

Yes! Another cryptic answer coming up: in the book I am careful not to give a physical description of any of the characters…but I was persuaded to ‘introduce’ them on the cover. That let the cat out of the bag about what the sequel is all about. Confused? All will be revealed in a year…(smile)

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Copyright 2010 Victoria Gisondi

When the wine ran short, the mother of Jesus said to him, “They have no wine.”

(And) Jesus said to her, “Woman, how does your concern affect me? My hour has not yet come.” His mother said to the servers, “Do whatever he tells you.”

It’s almost as if she didn’t hear his response, but, of course, we know that’s not the case. Until this point Jesus had performed no miracles.  But that didn’t matter to Mary. From the beginning, she believed what had been told her was true and that was enough for her.  Elizabeth said it best at the Visitation when she cried out:

“Blessed are you who believed that what was spoken to you by the Lord would be fulfilled.”

So while Mary knew that her son is God, what remains a mystery to me is not only how Mary knew it was the right time to ask  but how she had the perfect assurance that Jesus would indeed not let her down.  I mean, in his response to her, he did not seem too enthusiastic  to start His ministry at that very moment and yet we know that God does nothing outside His will.  Was Christ’s response “my hour has not yet come” the Lord’s way of showing us Mary’s influence on His heart? Is it possible that He had other plans on how and where he would perform his first miracle but was moved by Mary’s faith? I do not know.

In the account, Mary was concerned about somebody else’s dilemma and made it her own. Although running out of wine would have been a terrible embarrassment, there was no catastrophic crisis in the story, no leprosy being healed or dead being brought to life.  It was a problem of a more simple nature, but since it was important to the bride’s family, it was important to Mary. It was not the family who turned to Jesus in faith but Mary.

Mary ACTED in faith after she voiced her concern. We know because she simply turned to the servants and told them to do whatever Jesus said to do. In this passage I see Mary not as a child but as a woman of purpose and quiet grace. Our lady went forth as if her prayer had already been answered. The gospel of Mark tells us to believe we have already received an answer to our prayers even before we have. Notice he uses the past tense in the word “received”.

“Therefore I tell you, whatever you ask for in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours” (Mk 11:22, 24)

Again, we see the word “act” when St Louis de Montford tells us in his work True Devotion to Mary to:

“Pray and act always with something of that pure faith which Mary showed when on earth, and which she will share with you as time goes on.”

This kind of faith is always the most difficult. It requires a risky kind of conviction before we see any results.  It’s faith with muscle and not the wimpy conditional kind.  I once heard somebody say that if having faith that moved mountains was easy, there would be no more mountains.  Mary has that kind of muscle, though.  If we are to imitate Mary in any way, it is through her absolute trust in God.

What’s comforting about deMontford’s words is the consolation that if we turn to Mary for help, her faith will somehow rub off on us.  Mary makes it easy because she lets us borrow her faith when we ours is lacking.  The Lord sees it as fragrant offering wrapped around our measly ones and it pleases him to accept it. Let us never forget to turn to our Mother in time of need.

Our Lady Help of Christians, pray for us.

Copyright 2010 Victoria Gisondi

I’ve been so angry all the time. All my life, really. And I pray to God to heal me. I mean really heal me. So we go to this marriage talk and I figured it would be completely unrelated to my prayer but there was something that the pastor said in the video that touched something in me.

You know how marriage talks go. The lesson discussed loving your spouse, dropping expectations and demands and dying to your self, blah blah blah…But then the fear crops up. You know the one; It  goes something like this:

“If I die to my self and do more for Him, well, then he’ll get used to it and then he will EXPECT it and then MY needs wont be met…and I might resent him more. I mean this has to be a two way street!”

Unexpectedly the pastors next words addressed that. It was like he read the mind of every spouse there.

And this is the “thing” I mentioned that struck a chord with me. He said that as long as we keep thinking like that we are just holding on to a leash or a rope that’s attached to our spouses. Every time they get out of line, we  tug onto that leash and get them back in line. Whether we have our “little talks” with them, punish them, withold money- whatever.

The trick is that we must drop that leash and just do our part, no matter how our spouses respond since that is between the spouse and God. God has forgiven our debts and has showered our ungracious selves with his unmerited love. In our gratitude, we must do the same for our spouses. Like that story in the bible where the judge forgives the debtor and then , instead of showing mercy to his own debtor, the newly freed man beats him, we are doing the same to our spouses as long as we hold on to that invisible rope of debt.

In our gratitude to God we must be a reflection of God’s holy unmerited love to our spouse. God loves us so much that he made marriage to reflect that love . We MUST be that tangible love- that love made visible- to our spouses.

I got it. But…still….there is something about “dropping that rope” that made the whole room go silent. It was as if a light bulb went on. Once that rope is dropped, we lose all control, all claim, all power. It’s a frightening challenge. Suddenly, it became more than just about marriages. Everybody started talking about wounds and hurts and how dropping that rope would make you exposed or vulnerable or open to hurt or whatever.

The clincher is that  as long as we clutch that rope there is absolutely ZERO growth for unconditional love or love to grow in ANY way. There is no freedom there. It is a two-way debt-debtor relationship. That kind of marriage is only about compromise but not about love-the real kind of love, the submitting kind, the dying and laying down your life kind, the kind that God calls us to.

So, okay, I  recognized that if i dropped the leash, as hard as it may be and stuck only to my part, God will do his thing with my husband. If he offends me, mistreats me, fine. He is not my child and its not my job to collect retribution or demand explanations or corrected behavior.  That’s between him and God but my job is to reflect Gods unconditional love.God will only ask me for an account of my part

But it’s that danged rope. I just cant seem to drop it. Most of us can’t. If we do, in our spirits, we know we will be blessed. We know God will defend us. We know that every desire that we have unfairly loaded up on our spouses that goes undelivered, will be delivered by God. HE is the one that can give us the desires of our heart, HE is the one that never disappoints. HE is sufficient. but, but, but….the flesh keeps going back to the same old “but she OWES me! He OWES Me!” It’s what that leash really is.

And there it is…I don’t know what it is about the lesson of the rope but I wanted to cry. I have a very deep feeling that the rope in my own  life is somehow connected to my own anger or the control I want to have over protecting my wounds….I cant bear to let go…And I would wager that I am not the only one. But this one thing I do know. Resisting to drop it is a guarantee that NOTHING will ever change or improve. Although we may not all be angry people, we all clutch on to control to protect ourselves from something. Perhaps its being taken advantage of, being hurt, disappointed, walked all over. No wonder God wants our surrender. He wants to heal those wounds we protect so fiercely. We must all learn to let go…


Copyright 2009 Victoria Gisondi

I was at 3 day Women Of Grace conference years ago at the Shrine of Our Lady of Czestochowa in Doylestown, Pa. On the last day there was to be a closing mass with the exposition of the Blessed Sacrament at the end. Those who felt moved  were asked by the music leader to come up the altar for adoration and healing.  We were supposed to bravely stand and go up to the front with our needs. Many gathered  but I sat frozen in my seat.  My heart was longing and aching to be one of the brave who weren’t afraid to expose their needs in front of many. I kept trying to coax myself to get up out of my seat and take a not-so-short walk to the altar. But I was stuck. In frustration and despair I threw up my hands (internally).  Why did they have to have an altar call anyway? I was a revert to Catholicism and had participated in my share of “altar calls” when I had flirted with other denominations. But today, I just couldn’t or wouldn’t.  Because of my cowardice would I miss out on God’s blessing and healing for me? I knew exactly how that young man who approached Jesus felt. The one who walked away sadly because he just couldn’t give up his riches for the kingdom. He knew he just didn’t have what it takes and neither did I. And so I cried out my frustration to God in my heart. Then something truly wonderful started happening.

As the crowds knelt at the front of the church, Jesus Himself stood up and (no offense to the brave people at the altar) picked up His robes, stepped down off the altar and started walking down the aisle…right towards me! I couldn’t believe it. The words to the song “Do Not Be Afraid.” proceeded with Him filling the space around me.

Do not Be Afraid I am with you
I have called you each by name…
I love you and you are Mine

I wept with gratitude. He knew my heart and my weaknesses and He came to me just the same. He wasn’t even asking me to meet Him halfway! I couldn’t stop crying. When he got close I  touched the tassels of his robes in sweet gratitude for His mercy and love before He walked on to heal others.

I know it’s hard to understand, but through the hands and feet of the priest (who picked up the monstrance and was processing with It) Jesus was walking literally  towards me. I know it like I know the sun rises every morning. I could see Him in my mind’s eye. And in all my life I never felt so unconditionally loved and valued. We don’t need to be perfect or brave. We can even be cowards and  we are still valuable to Him. The only thing I brought to the table was my desire and my belief.

Eye has not seen, nor ear heard, nor have entered into the heart of man the things which God has prepared for those who love Him.

I hadn’t realized how much of this mentality had affected me until recently. As I was leaving daily mass one morning, feeling fresh and fancy free because I was completely childless and had been able to enjoy the Mass without the usual distractions, I encountered a an older gentleman I have seen around at Adoration; a kind man who wore a large beautiful cross with a Saint Benedict medal infused into the center of it. We got to talking and I was singing the wonders of how wonderful it is to feel that “holy quiet” that can only be felt at Adoration- how its almost tangible and how it permeates the soul. But he said something that surprised me. He told me that it is not necessarily the quiet that matters. He explained that the Lord wants us to come to Him like little children and how he has gotten to know many broken people who visit Our Lord on a regular basis and,as a result, had established a sort of community. I gathered from what he said that he and these people had possibly conversed quietly or shared the burdens and prayed together in fellowship before Our Lord. What a novel idea! The idea of little children struck a chord and I asked him if this idea included actual children. Then he smiled and recounted a specific time that he remembered ME bringing my children to daily Mass and how frazzled I had looked trying to keep them all in order.


He recounted the face of an elderly lady who sat in the back and who’s face lit up as she saw me enter with my clamorous brood.

“You don’t know the beacon of light you are to those elderly or lonely people that haven’t seen small children in a long while. ” he told me.

Yeah right, I thought, but what about all the rest of the people who I’m bothering? And, before I could get the thought out he said.

“There will always be people who express complaints. But those that are disturbed are truly disturbed by something else. Those that are there with a heart to love the Lord will not be disturbed.”

Something about the statement moved something inside me. It felt a new perspective shift and settle like tectonic plates inside me. I tried to fight the tears welling up in me and gave into them. So, it wasn’t me. It was them. I hadn’t been wrong.  I suddenly grieved for all those times I had scowled at and pinched my children during mass or left church angry. I grieved for all those times I had unreasonable expectations and had left Mass in a dark storm. I had been focusing on the wrong thing.

The gentleman reminded me that the Lord had very specifically said “Suffer the little children on to me. ” And the word “suffer” stood out and gave me peace all at once. Jesus knew that in order to bring the children to him there would be some suffering required. As immature little people, they have not yet conquered their impulses, their manners their noise level. They are, after all, little children. I pictured Jesus smiling at the raucous, making allowances for the disrupted silence and interrupted half prayers. The Lord loves them dearly and accepts them with infinite patience- something I had failed to do.  Where did this unwritten rule that children do not belong at Holy Adoration emerge?

I left a little sad but resolved and so I sat down to write this article. My prayer is to free all the women who have felt the same frustration I have. I wrote this article to give you, the mothers of young children, permission to go before the Lord, to ignore all those “apostles” who want to shoo them away to be bold and unapologetic about it and to encourage you. If you have held back from the graces of daily mass out of fear, if you have stopped making holy hours before the Lord out of fear, out of shame, or even out of pride, GO BACK! Do not let the devil have the last laugh. The Lord wants us and our children. He wants to build up his Body starting with the children. What better way is there to instill a love of the Lord if we don’t start very young? If we come back in armies of mothers and children who will be able to stop us?

Copyright 2009 Victoria Gisondi