Jeffrey Dahmer or Anne Frank?

Anne Frank 2

Yahweh, the god of Israel, is said to have made human beings so that they can’t be good enough to please him. Some might contend that the first people were created upright but later fell from grace; however, Yahweh knew (and planned) for this momentous “fall of man.”

Yahweh can’t stand to be in the presence of evil, as sin is abhorrent to him; so he had to turn his back on humanity. However, being loving and desiring a relationship with his creation, he wanted to remedy this horrible turn of events.

For some reason Yahweh couldn’t simply forgive humans, which is, strangely, what he requires them to do for one another. No, Yahweh had to be paid in full for the human frailties he created. He needed, in fact, to be paid in blood. Justice had to be served. The blood of Yahweh’s son, Jesus, supposedly “bought” the “free gift” of salvation. But not for all.

The only people whose sins are covered by the blood of Jesus are the people who actually believe that the shedding of innocent blood can cleanse evil in other people. Yahweh plans to destroy all those who don’t accept the efficacy of his son’s blood.

Unfortunately, most of us won’t believe and Yahweh’s plan is a failure. Yahweh has always known that would be the case, so he understands that only a few people will be spared from his wrath. He’s okay with that.

Even if people are good and try to do their best in life, they will be lost if they don’t believe in Yahweh’s plan. On the other hand, people can be horrible villains for most of their lives and suddenly believe in Jesus right before they die, and Yahweh will usher them right into heaven.

For instance, the murderer Jeffrey Dahmer is pleasing to Yahweh. Yahweh will greet him with open arms and grant him eternal life. All the evil Dahmer committed will be forgotten, never to be mentioned again. You see, Jeffrey Dahmer died a believer in Yahweh and Jesus.

However, sweet young Anne Frank, just fifteen years old when she died and not granted a longer life to repent as Dahmer was, will be destroyed for lack of faith in Jesus and his redeeming blood. Any good Anne did will be forgotten. Her spirit of courage and perseverance is worthless. Anne Frank was not a believer. She is therefore vile in Yahweh’s eyes, and worthy of destruction.

Tell me something, between Jeffrey Dahmer and Anne Frank, which person is more admirable in your eyes? Which, if you were dishing out justice, would you reward and which would you punish? Yahweh says Dahmer is the more admirable person, deserving of eternal life, glory, and honor. Dahmer will rest forever in the presence of Jesus. Meanwhile, Anne was doomed to eternal death at the moment her breath left her little body. That’s what justice is to Yahweh.

Look at Anne’s sweet little face. Do you think a good and loving god is punishing that little girl right now? Do you want to worship a god who would commit such a vile act of injustice?

Okay, perhaps Yahweh will look over Anne because of her youth. But what about Steven Spielberg, Joseph Lieberman, Bob Dylan, Mayim Bialik, and Ed Asner? They’re all Jewish and do not believe in Yahweh’s plan of redemption. Does justice demand that these people suffer/die while Dahmer is honored and glorified? What kind of justice requires that evildoers be rewarded for believing something while much better behaved people are punished because they simply can’t believe a particular story?

There is no justice in Yahweh’s plan of redemption. He simply plans to save those who will bend the knee to him. It’s all about finding worshipers to stroke his huge ego.

I believe, of course, that this craziness is a myth. And I feel great sympathy for those who think it is true. I should, as I used to be one of them.

May 19, 2019


A Mother’s Day to Remember

shallow focus photo of pink ceramic roses
Photo by Acharaporn Kamornboonyarush on

My daughter Rebecca had invited my daughter Rachel and me for Mother’s Day breakfast. I went out to my car a little before 8 a.m. to drive the two to three minutes to Rebecca’s house.

Once outside I realized I didn’t have my keys. That was bad enough, but I was also dragging my son’s dolly, as I planned to help my ex-husband move some stuff later in the day. Rebecca was busy cooking and not answering her phone when I called.

I almost started crying, but I determined I would NOT be found blubbering just because I was locked out of my apartment. Too many horrible things happen in life for me to shed tears over something that trivial. So I pulled up my big-girl panties and took off down the hill dragging the dolly behind me.

Rachel had arrived at Rebecca’s expecting me to be there. Both my girls and two of Rebecca’s boys tried to contact me to no avail. That’s because I have a new phone and my data hadn’t yet been added. And they probably didn’t remember my new number. Either that or calls and messages just weren’t going through.

So Rachel figured she’d better come and check on me. I had made it to the bottom of the hill and had just started down the next road when Rachel showed up. She took me to Rebecca’s and we had a nice breakfast.

I spent the day with Rebecca’s family and the evening and night with Rachel’s. After our shared breakfast my girls had expected to do their own thing with their families, and the three of us had plans to get together and go out to eat next Sunday–their treat. Instead, I crashed my daughters’ Mother’s Day and got to spend both the day and night with them and their families, and they’re still going to take me out next Sunday!

I never want to be locked out of my apartment again (and plan to make extra keys to give to my girls), but I can’t help but be happy that it happened this time. It was a Mother’s Day to remember. For me anyway. And I still have a second celebration to look forward to.

May 13, 2019

Circumstantial Evidence

As I headed toward the stairs to go visit my girls yesterday, I saw something weird in the hallway. I bent down to inspect it and realized it was a rotten banana. I’d never seen anything like it, so I took a picture.

When I was coming home in the evening, I was carrying bananas that my son-in-law Robert had given me. My next-door neighbor saw me and mentioned the bananas.

Just before dark I went to Wal-Mart. When I got back to my apartment building I took the elevator because I had hot food I wanted to get to as quickly as I could. The next-door neighbor who had seen me earlier with bananas and the mother of the other next-door neighbor were on the elevator.

The mother said, “You dropped a banana peel in the hallway. I picked it up.”

It wasn’t just a peel and it wasn’t mine, but I believe that she picked it up. I also believe that if leaving a rotten banana in the hallway were a crime, I would have been carted off to jail. Maybe Robert could have convinced a jury that I was innocent, but he is family so they might not believe him.

Circumstantial evidence can be extremely damaging. But what concerns me more is that the mother of my neighbor on one side knew I had bananas yesterday because the neighbor on the other side saw me with bananas.

Tina Rae Collins

April 15, 2019

Namaste: A Plea to Christians from One Who Left Your Religion

woman praying statue
Photo by Artem Bali on

Most Christians don’t ask me why I left Christianity. I have been questioned as to what happened to me, told I am no longer worthy of association, and informed that many tears have been shed over my departure. But I’m not sure anybody (except for my children, of course) actually inquired about why I rejected Christianity.

I wrote a book about the reasons I am no longer a Christian. Actually, I have written four books on the subject: The Judaeo-Christian Myth, Yahweh on Trial, The Truth Is a Funny Thing, and the little storybook called Sam and Belle. (All of these books are on Amazon for anyone interested in finding out more.)

But there is something else I want to say because, while nobody seems to want to know why I no longer view the Bible as the inerrant word of a god, many want to tell me I’m offending them, I need to “get right with the Lord,” or they are praying for me. But these people never seem to stop to wonder whether they might be offensive, they might need to “get right,” or they might need thoughts and prayers–or at least a little guidance.

Dear Christian, may I be direct here: I don’t need or want prayer; I am fine as I am, and in fact have actually finally found that peace I always longed for; your thinking might be considered offensive too; and maybe you’re the one who needs to get right. The last two items I mentioned are what I want to speak about here.

When you tell me that I offend you by not accepting your beliefs and, further, that you fear for my soul, you’re saying that I am not worthy, I am less than you, I am wicked, I am bound for a “devil’s hell,” I am an outcast, I am unloved by your supposedly loving god, I deserve death, I don’t merit the same respect and camaraderie that you bestow upon those who believe as you do. Do you not realize how offensive these words might be to me, or to others who reject your thinking?

Furthermore, you are telling me that in order for you to see me as “good enough,” I have to follow your thought processes rather than my own. I must ignore my own brain and listen to yours instead, performing your rituals and obeying your rules. You’re saying you’re right and I’m wrong and that I must accept that or you won’t wholly accept me.

But what makes you the authority? Why do you feel I am a low-life that is beneath you or undeserving of your full companionship? It’s not because I am a murderer or a thief or an adulteress or even that I’m covetous or proud. No, it’s because I don’t happen to recognize the inspiration of the writings of ancient people as you do. That’s it. That’s why I am evil and dishonorable–and immoral.

The Sumerians produced religious documents. So did the Egyptians. The Hindus too. Also the Greeks and Romans. Why don’t you acknowledge their thoughts as divinely inspired? Are you malevolent or immoral because you don’t? Are you worthy of death?

Oh, I know, you’ll say, “But those documents aren’t from God. They’re just myths.” Well, who made you the judge of that? It is only your opinion that the ancient writings of the Jewish people are from a god. My opinion differs. And, yes, I have as much right to my opinion as you have to yours. I have as much right to reject Jewish manuscripts as you have to reject Hindu manuscripts.

And I don’t inform you that you’re trash just waiting for the incinerator because you reject Hindu writings, do I? I don’t shake my head and tell you I will pray for you. I will never whine that you offend me by your belief in or disbelief in the inspiration of any particular literature. I definitely won’t declare you to be lost or headed for any kind of horrible end. And I most certainly won’t treat you as if you’re not fit for my friendship, love, or association. And why is that? It’s because I know you have a right to think your own thoughts without any judgment from me and, especially, any loss of friendship.

What I will do for you is say, “Namaste.” I will recognize the divine spark in you just as I know it is in me. Call that spark God, Spirit, Consciousness, Universe, or whatever you want to call it; but it is in each and every one of us. And we are all connected by and through it. When I hurt you, I hurt myself. When I love you, I love myself. When I accept you, I accept myself.

And I do accept you, with all your thinking that I consider to be wrong. I am here, open to a full relationship with you. Come. Embrace me. Think what you will of my thought system. But be with me. Love me. Respect me. Grant me the right to follow my own path based on my intellect, rather than yours, without viewing me as less than you. I certainly confer upon you that right without pulling away from you.

Dear Christian, I beg of you, do to me as you want done to you. Namaste.

Tina Rae Collins

February 17, 2019

Are Christians Fighting Against God?


I often hear Christians say “How could anybody think it’s okay to kill babies?” or “There’s nothing meaner than killing babies.” They are referring, of course, to the deliberate termination of human pregnancies. Some even proclaim that God is on the verge of judging the United States because of rampant abortion.

Amazingly, these people speak such bold words without batting an eye. It’s as if they have never read the Bible they say they follow.

Numbers 31:17 Now therefore kill every male among the LITTLE ONES, and kill every woman that hath known man by lying with him.

Ezekiel 9:6 Slay utterly old and young, both maids, and LITTLE CHILDREN, and women:

Yes, I know, those who are most adamant that abortion is murder, and should never occur, nevertheless vehemently defend the murder of living babies in the Old Testament. That was different, they say. That was GOD authorizing the murder of babies. And those babies were going to grow up to be evil, don’t you know?

Well, I’m not sure how much more wicked the murdered babies of other nations could have possibly become than the Israelite babies were when they grew up. And that’s true especially when they obeyed their god and massacred babies, pregnant women, and old people!

And, anyway, doesn’t the Bible also say the following?

Romans 13:1 Let every soul be subject unto the higher powers. For there is no power but of God: the powers that be are ordained of God.


1) If the powers that be have made a law that abortion is acceptable, who are Christians to argue against God, who authorized the powers and their right to make laws? Did the Israelites argue against Moses and the other prophets? (Well, yes, they did, but they sometimes paid dearly for it.)

2) Was God’s putting Moses, or some other prophet, in power different from God’s putting Richard Nixon, and the Supreme Court of his era, in power? Why obey Moses but not the Supreme Court? Moses sanctioned the killing of living babies as well as babies in the womb, and Christians think it was okay to say, “Woo hoo! Where’s my sword? Happy is he who dashes the little ones against the stones!” (Ps 137:9). Why don’t Christians have the stomach to do the same for God’s appointed leaders today? Are Christians not as dedicated to Yahweh as the Israelites were?

The truth is, nobody today is commanding anyone to kill babies or even have an abortion. Mercy, what kind of devilish creature would make such a heinous injunction as requiring the murder of little ones (and pregnant women)? Only an evil monster, am I right?

So let’s settle down, okay? And when we’re calm, let’s ponder this subject for a minute:

In the Christian’s view it is only evil people who are aborting their babies. Since these people are evil, it stands to reason that they would most likely raise evil children. That’s what Christians say about the Old Testament baby killing–the parents were evil, so the babies would be evil too. After all, an evil tree can’t produce good fruit (Mt 7:18).

So how do we know abortion is not the very procedure God designed for our time just as it was when he demanded the murder of pregnant women, and women who had “known man by lying with him” (thus performing abortions)? How do those who are wringing their hands today because of abortion know they’re not fighting against God? Maybe God is trying to fix this evil world–trying to make it better for his beloved followers–but they’re too out of sync with him to know it.

Out of one side of their mouths Christians proclaim that the United States is fixing to be under the judgment of God because of abortion. And out of the other they clamor against the powers that be for reducing the number of evil people born in this country. Perhaps they should remember that their thoughts are not God’s thoughts and their ways are not God’s ways (Is 55:8).

Yes, I’m being a little facetious here. Obviously, nobody should be murdering babies and pregnant women. Nor should anybody defend such murders–whether they occurred nearly 4,000 years ago or are happening today, and no matter what “authority” might sanction said murders. Also obvious is the fact that even wicked people can produce good children. My point, of course, is that Christians blind themselves to evil, calling it good, when it occurs in another time and another place, while at the same time vigorously condemning behavior that even they would not consider tantamount to the evil conduct portrayed in their holy book that they uphold and praise as godly and worthy of emulation.

I am not a fan of abortion. For crying out loud, nobody is. But I don’t rule the lives of others, nor do Christians. My heart goes out to women who feel compelled to have an abortion; it must be a traumatizing experience for most of them. But I am fiercely opposed to the ideology that endorses the murder of living babies and pregnant women while condemning the termination of a pregnancy–and particularly when it is coupled with a fight against every social program that might decrease the number of abortions in this country.

Tina Rae Collins
February 8, 2019

The Hill You Chose to Die On

Karen Vaughn wrote that Donald Trump is “crass” but she still supports him. Her words are being shared by Republicans, probably in an attempt to make themselves look better to the rest of the country. If they admit that Trump isn’t quite polished–he’s just a “salty sailor,” as Vaughn said–then maybe they won’t be condemned for supporting him.

Yes, in general, Republicans are willing to confess that Trump isn’t completely perfect. However, in specifics, when they are shown Trump’s crass behavior, most of them defend him. It was either a joke or he didn’t mean it or it’s fake news! Never will they state that Trump commits evil in any particular instance.

By the way, some synonyms for “crass” are:

Stupid, insensitive, mindless, ignorant, witless, oafish, boorish, asinine, coarse, gross, graceless, tasteless, heavy-handed, blundering, doltish, dense, rude, vulgar, churlish

Yes, Trump is crass. So why do so many Republican Christians praise the churlish Trump endlessly and refuse to admit that he does anything wrong? I will give you my opinion.

Christians have to be right. Otherwise, how can they judge the world? If they admit any wrongdoing or wrong thinking–as in supporting an oaf or an evil man–it weakens them. They can’t be weakened. They are the moral standard. They are the light shining on a hill. They are righteous.

Christians and the Republican Party have maintained that pretense of superiority for many years. Then came Donald Trump. He was despicable, but what were they to do? Well, they had to claim he is our savior, of course. Claim he was given to us by God. Claim he tells the truth. Claim he loves the country. Claim his little indiscretions aren’t worthy of discussing (just locker room talk, you know–because God can’t hear through a ceiling, so it’s no big deal). Basically, they had to claim moral superiority as they always have.

Unfortunately, Trump is a loose cannon. He doesn’t know how to hide his evil. So these Christians are having to scramble like little mice to do damage control and make light of his evil, as stated above and also by constantly bringing up those they happen to consider more evil–Hillary and Bill Clinton and Barack Obama, to name three. Republicans even use a picture of Joe Biden at his son’s funeral as he hugged and comforted his grandson to claim Biden was molesting the boy. There is no level to which some Christians won’t stoop.

Now, these Republican Christians could have acknowledged that they were scraping the bottom of the barrel when they chose Trump. They could have said, “He’s horrible, but Hillary is worse,” and left it at that. But no! They have fought tooth and toenail to UPHOLD this atrocious President in his evil ways.

Well, the power of the pulpit in the USA is dead. Christians destroyed it themselves. They chose to die at the side of one of the most despicable human beings of our generation. The doltish Donald Trump was the death blow to the Christian influence. Yes, you Christians who defend Donald Trump, THIS is the hill you chose to die on.

Nobody cares anymore what you think or what you believe. You are no longer trustworthy. You lost your integrity when you watched a ruffian make fun of a disabled man yet you went ahead and elected the lout to the highest office in the land anyway, not only refusing to condemn his actions but declaring him innocent of wrongdoing. And you continue to pretend the brute is good, in the face of all evidence to the contrary.

If you defend the behavior of Donald Trump, you don’t know good from evil. And remember that, according to you, a woe has been pronounced against those who don’t know the difference (Isaiah 5:20). So you think about that as you praise your god while you defend the wickedness of Donald Trump. You think long and hard because when the books are written, you won’t be cast as the hero you think you are. You will be the villain of the story.

If you, as an individual, voted for Trump, it’s not too late to repent. Elections are coming around. And we’ll vote for President again soon. You can make a difference. You can stand against evil in high places.

And if you think Trump is better than the alternatives, then, by all means, you vote for him again. But understand that the rest of us see him for what he is, and your continued high estimation and praise of him demeans you in our eyes.

You may think the alternatives to Trump dwell in a swamp. And it’s possible you’re right. But let me tell you something: if so, Trump was standing there to welcome them in when they got there.

Just be honest about the man, Christians. That’s all I’m saying. Try to hang onto at least a little bit of respectability.

And to those 7,000 Republican Christians who truly believe in goodness and truth and haven’t bowed the knee to Trump: I salute you. And I’m sorry for the shame your fellow Christians have brought upon you.

October 21, 2018

The Victimization of Victims

Perrott Victim 1

If you are ripped open, some people will condemn you for bleeding. If you are beaten and battered, some will despise your scars. If you speak of your injuries in an attempt to heal, empower yourself, or inspire others, you will most likely be attacked all over again and then cast into the garbage dump.

Bottom line: If you admit to being a victim, you will be victimized for your victimization. And that is why those who suffer domestic abuse and/or any kind of sexual, emotional, or physical abuse often remain silent or don’t admit to their wounds for many years.

It’s been a rough week. The first eight days of every month are particularly hard because those are the days of the month (five and a half years ago) that I had to sit at the hospital with my unconscious son, hoping and praying he would survive and then accepting the horrifying truth that he would not.

Also, a poem I wrote five years ago (copied below), to explain the depths of my grief over the death of my son, suddenly came to the attention of my friends again this past week. In the poem I speak of sexual, emotional, and physical abuse that occurred during my childhood. I never expected the pain this new discussion would bring me. And while it distresses me greatly to speak of the reaction I received, I believe it’s important to share.

An older sister of mine attacked me for my words. She not only took offense that I accused my father of emotional abuse, and physical abuse toward my siblings and my mother, but she assumed I had also accused him of sexual mistreatment. I had not, but even if I had, her behavior was shocking to me.

My sister began to make excuses for my father: He was sick. We all do stupid things. Without him I would never have had life. He worked and fed us. We can’t blame our parents all our lives for our problems. Some people have it rougher than I do. God gave me four children–“The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away,” she said. (Some of these were written by her the next day.)

And, adding to my suffering, my sister stated that, while I have lost only one child, another sister has lost three. I suppose that means I’m to be grateful that I have lost only one child, and be ashamed of my grief.

A friend recently posted that her grown daughter has lived a long distance from her for eleven years. Another mother commented that it never gets any easier. We can all understand, and sympathize. But my son has been gone five and a half years and I can’t go visit him. I have no hope that he will ever “move” back home. And, yes, it never gets easier.

But people expect grievers to move on. Otherwise they are accused of being stuck in grief. That’s an unrealistic expectation.

And it’s unrealistic to expect a child or even an adult to hide injustices forever. I was sixty years old when I finally revealed the violence that stained my childhood, leaving me to suffer severe PTSD today.

Although my sister denied it twice, she read my painful words the day I wrote them five years ago. (I have our conversation in Messenger.) She was gentle and kind at that time. She asked whether she knew the perpetrator of the sexual abuse. I refused to answer, telling her I didn’t want to talk about it. She admitted that my younger sister’s confession of sexual molestation was probably true. (My younger sister told her story several years ago, but my sisters refused to believe her and she finally recanted.)

But I guess kindness and understanding of the anguish that springs from sorrow and abuse can last only so long. This time my sister’s reaction, as stated, was totally different. After ranting for a while on my poem’s thread, she deleted most of her cruel comments and went out to garner the support of my other two older sisters.

The next morning, along with deleting me from her Facebook friends list, my sister made a proclamation on her Facebook page, signed by her and my oldest sister, that “all of what [Tina] wrote is not true.” When my nephew told her he had heard the same stories from his mother (he and my niece had stated the same the previous day) and asked her which of my accusations weren’t true, my sister argued with him for a while, refusing to answer his question, and then deleted the entire thread. (I have it all.)

This second discussion was when I realized my sister thought I was accusing our father of sexual abuse. She totally misunderstood my poem and placed my father in places in the poem where I had not referred to him.

But, as I said, even if that’s what I had been saying, my sister’s reaction was hurtful. She declared that she had never read the poem until this past week, yet she didn’t come to me for an explanation. She didn’t offer compassion for my pain. Instead, she chose to gossip about me to our siblings and bring them in to cast upon me their own accusations. Her focus was to defend my father, who has been dead fifty years, rather than support her suffering sister.

My third older sister said that I had slept with her as a child so no sexual abuse happened to me. As if nighttime or a bed is required for sexual abuse to occur. The first sister stated that our mother never left us alone. As if it takes a lot of time for sexual violence to take place. Everybody has to go to the toilet. And when the toilet is outside, as it was at my house, it takes a while. Sexual exploitation can transpire in a fleeting moment.

It is scary to talk about horrible events of our childhood. I am reeling from that discovery. And I’m here to tell you that if you speak out, you will be further assaulted, and possibly shunned. I found that out the hard way.

And this was my family. People who were supposed to care for me no matter what. People who should always have my back. People whom I firmly believed truly loved me and had my best interests at heart.

Worst of all, this further pain was thrown at me on my page containing a heartfelt poem that I had written for my precious son. That is the deepest cut of all. If my own family could do this to me, imagine what strangers are capable of doing to the victims of abuse and loss.

But, please, if you can, speak up! When and how you can, tell your story. Broadcast it far and wide. It may help you heal and it might strengthen the heart of someone else who has suffered as you have.

So show your scars. Bleed on everybody’s carpet. Make a big enough mess that somebody will have to see it and help you deal with it. It’s time.

Tina Rae Collins

November 7, 2017

(Thanks to Joe Perrott for the cartoon!)

The Poem:


December 30, 2012 at 12:02pm 

I was sexually abused as a child,

At least twice that I can remember for sure.


I woke up one night to find my dad trying to smother my mom with a pillow,

And heard him say, “I’d have killed you if them young’uns hadn’t woke up.”

He turned over the kitchen table after Mommy filled it with food one Christmas.

He shot a bullet up through the ceiling one night while we were upstairs sleeping.

I saw him throw my baby sister against the wall.

I watched him pin down another sister, his knees resting on her thighs as he held her hands so she couldn’t fight back.

I was there when he put a cigarette out on my mom’s leg.

I came home from school at lunch to find her clothes torn off her.

And sometimes, as we would be going to bed, he would say,

“If y’all knew what I was going to do tonight, you wouldn’t go to sleep.”


My dad died when I was fifteen.

The one time I got up the nerve to go up to the casket, my left arm went completely numb.

I dreamt of him often–a wild-eyed man in a blue suit coming out of his coffin and chasing me to do me harm.


My mom was always sick with asthma.

When I was about thirteen I recall hearing her moaning as she tried to draw a breath,

“Young’uns, behave. I’m going to leave you.”

She finally died when I was twenty-eight, leaving me an orphan.

She saw only one of my four children.

I still miss her to this day.


The man I loved and married left me five days before Christmas,

With four children between the ages of four and twelve–

In the head of a holler,

In a two-bedroom trailer,

With no flushing toilet,

And no money,

On a dirt road that was dust in the summer and mud in the winter

(And me with no car anyway),

When I was sick with a rare form of pneumonia.


I’ve been cast aside and considered worthy of hell for my religious views–

Not for the way I live my life;

Not for anything I can fix;

For my beliefs that I can’t change.


But I have fought hard all my life,

And I have survived.

I’ve even thrived.

I was valedictorian of my grade school class,

Valedictorian of my high school class,

Salutatorian of my college class, winning the English award.

I have written books.

I have produced and starred in a cable TV show.

I homeschooled my four children.

I am, today, working toward a PhD in Biblical Studies.


I am strong;

I am a survivor.

I pick myself up and I move on and

I never let the bastards grind me down!


But this time–

Well, this time God gave me a mountain.

He took my baby boy.

And no fear,

No pain,

No sorrow,

No shame,

No castigation or condemnation or any other crap that anybody in this world can lay on me

Can touch this.

Or even come close.

I am finally broken.


Tina Rae Collins