The Story of Sheila Lowe

I learned of your web site from my former brother-in-law, still a good friend and disfellowshipped like me. I was kicked out of the Watchtower organization on my 35th birthday in 1985, because I "obviously posed a threat to the congregation" (I was a single mother of three, dating a "worldly" man).

For 27 years, I was a devout, very active JW, married for 12 of those years to an extremely well-respected elder whose behavior at home was very different than at the KH. I often temporary pioneered. As far as I know, my mother is still a pioneer. I saw her for the first time in several years 3 months ago, when my daughter was murdered. I was surprised that she, and my ex-husband's family showed up at the funeral, especially since Pastor Chuck Smith of Calvary Chapel (where my daughter had been attending) officiated. Of course, they felt called upon to make comments about how wrong his sermon was.

For a couple of weeks after my daughter's death, my mother was able to justify acting like a real mother and called me daily to see how we were doing. Then it was once a week, then nothing. I called her last week, to let her know of an interview I would be doing on some radio and TV shows, and she reminded me that we would now have to "go back to normal," which I realized meant that our conversations would now cease. I couldn't resist saying that it was too bad she had cut off her family - my brother is also disfellowshipped, and of course, my children (who are not df'd) were included in the shunning. She immediately retorted, "It was YOU who left, and your brother!" I said, "Well, we still love you."

It was very interesting to note at the funeral, that the JWs don't know how to hug, and they don't know how to say, "I love you." I had to learn how to do both since leaving the organization.

As did many others, I grew up with a terrible fear of being thrown into prison and tortured, and constantly felt guilty because I didn't enjoy going door to door. Although I readily admit that I got lots of good things out of the time I spent in the organization, for me, it has been a gradual leaving of "the truth" over the past 15 years, and only as recently as this month have I been able to say, it is NOT the truth. Now I see the organization as no different than the Hale-Bopp cult, except that they don't have mass suicides. It's a slow death of the soul instead.

My new, much happier belief system tells me that, rather than simply mouldering in the ground until the resurrection, my daughter is still around us in spirit and will be there to greet me when I come to the end of my life on earth. Living forever has taken on a whole new meaning.

After being a very active Witness and good elder's wife, volunteering and participating on the programs at numerous circuit and district assemblies, after spending many summers in service, after playing the piano at meetings for the Santa Ana and Anaheim congregations all those years ago, fifteen years later, I can honestly say that I am happy at last.

I am not interested in Witness bashing, nor in joining any other religion, but I am glad to know that you provide the service that you do for those who are still trying to find their way into the light.

I don't mind sharing my story if you think it might help others. I am pursuing a lawsuit against the government regarding our daughter's death. She was shot 6 times by her boyfriend, a federal agent (immigration), who also killed himself. You may have seen it over the past 3 months, as they lived in Lake Forest (Orange County), and I've done several interviews on the news, Extra, and the Michael Jackson radio show. My work as a handwriting expert often takes me into the media, so it is easy to get publicity. My belief is, any agency that hands an employee a gun had better be prepared to be responsible with what they do with it, twenty-four hours a day. There were warning signs, Jennifer made complaints, and they were ignored.

Thanks, too, for telling me about Chuck Smith's good work. I heard the other day that he had a special feeling for Jennifer. He cancelled a college class to officiate, and said that there was no way he would consider not being there. He read a poem I wrote for her, which I'm attaching.

She was a woman of fiery power
who chose her own path
It was hers, and no one else’s Her strength eclipsed
a thousand trials
Under pressure that molds diamonds

The curves in the road
always hairpin turns for her
The dips always deep potholes

Never a molehill
Always Everest
Still she pressed on
She cried and raged and burned
But still she pressed on
She bent in two
but never broke

No wimpy pinks or baby blues for her
Queenly purple, sizzling red
Stygian black
She was a woman of exotic beauty
who never knew how beautiful she was
She was a woman of questions
never answered
She was a woman well loved
who never knew how well loved she was