This is Noah Tlapak’s family…
Download this paper, “An Open Letter to the Judge at the Family Court of Ansbach.” It is in German with illustrations.
It is translated at the post, “A Young Family in Court.”
Read a neighbor’s account of Noah and Moedah’s family, “Statement by M.W.” It is truly remarkable what this long-term observer of our community wrote. Please read it and see. Here is an excerpt.
There is a stable relationship between parents and children, which is marked by the affection, kindness, and caresses of the younger children, and at no time I had the impression that fear of penalties would have played a significant role in the concept of education in the family of my friend or in the community in general.
Read of Moedah’s anguish at having her son torn from her, “Why did they take my son from me?“
And this is how Eva (Havah to us) wrote of Jonathan’s first days in foster care. It is from her diary, which we published and truly named, “Diary of an Abused Girl.” This is what the Jugendamt gave him in place of his imma’s warm and loving care:
Friday, 6 September 2013
“I’m totally tired. Last night I slept at the MOST two hours. Jonathan screamed the whole night. I pushed him in the carriage until he would fall asleep. I can only cry when I hear him scream because I know that this is all unjust. I think of all the other children. They all are experiencing a major trauma.” (p. 4)
Sunday, 8 September 2013
“Jonathan slept a little bit better than last night, but still he screamed a lot. Today we’re going to eat with the family Assenbaum. Jonathan refused to get in the car.
“I feel so alone. Jonathan screams so much for his imma. Tomorrow I’m going to call the social services and ask why I can’t get in touch with my lawyer. This afternoon they watched TV. Merea had a headache. She needs to go to school on Thursday. She’s afraid of going. I don’t know how to comfort her. I also want to go home. We cry together. I want to comfort the children, but I don’t know how to comfort myself.” (p. 5)
Tuesday, 10 September 2013
“Last night was better with Jonathan. He didn’t wake up much because he was so tired. I sing and I pray with the children. Often Merea starts to cry. I want to say, “Stop crying,” but I only want to say it because it wakes up my own feelings. Often I have my feelings pretty much under control, and like this the little children do, too. But on the other hand, I don’t want to play something that is not really the case. Really, I’m sad. And my sister is sad. And Jonathan is sad.
“In this situation where I am right now I feel so much pressure and try to not let my mask fall. Everybody talks so nice and they all only want to hear nice things. But I hate this feeling. I feel betrayed, lied to, and accused. I have no freedom to express myself. I feel cornered and it doesn’t matter what I say, I am not listened to. The children are bored with all the toys. Jonathan only thinks about his imma and he doesn’t want to be distracted with toys. And myself, I’m totally bored. The whole day I sit on the sofa and watch the children.
“Sometimes the young men come in the room. They smell like cigarette smoke. I can’t stand it anymore. Today I determined that I’m going to do something with the children. I put Jonathan in the high chair and peeled pears. Merea went out to get salad in the garden. We got busy in the kitchen until lunchtime. My days here are so empty, worthless, senseless, boring, and depressing. For Merea and Jonathan it’s exactly the same.” (p. 7)
Sabbath Day, 14 September 2013
“Last night Jonathan slept restlessly. I believe he understood from the evening before that they had talked about him going somewhere else. The whole night he just hung on me. He didn’t let go of me. For me it is so terrible. It hangs heavy on my soul. I can hardly stand it. I want to give him the best I can give him. He is very homesick. He is so destroyed — a wreck.” (p. 11)
Tuesday, 17 September 2013
“Today is the most terrible day. Last night I gave myself to make Jonathan sleep, but I guess he had a bellyache or something. I was holding him to put him to sleep or else he wouldn’t sleep at all. In the morning when I got up, the lady here was so mad at me for carrying him around. I was so finished. I feel as if they try to find wrongs. I told her that I wouldn’t have done it, but I think he must have had a bellyache. She then blames me for feeding him too much. What can I do? Nothing! It isn’t me, it’s she that provides food. I too would be sick of her food by now, and I really am.” (p. 13-14)
Monday, 23 September 2013
“This morning when I got up, Jonathan woke up with me. Oh no! Thank God I was able to put him back to sleep on time for me to go. I can’t handle seeing him scream his head off when I leave the house at 6:45 am for school. All day, he’s all I worry about. It’s torture for him and for me because I know he isn’t doing well at “home.” At least there’s something for him to look forward to today. It is seeing his abba!! And…saying good-bye again! Oh, how wicked!
“At school he’s what I talk about and what I care about. At least that stupid school doesn’t take me any concentration, otherwise I wouldn’t manage it. My little sister is in my mind, too. Yesterday she told me that she doesn’t want to go to school because they mock her so bad for her clothes. I tried to encourage her, and pray for her…” (p. 19)
Thursday, 26 September 2013
“Somehow, no matter how much I try to deny reality, it always keeps on hitting me. It’s more the foster parents that try to deny reality and they try to not let it hit them. They try to cover up and they end up lying at me. This morning when I needed to leave, Jonathan woke up. Usually I could have made him sleep, but I needed to leave. So he started to cry. The foster father took him away from me, since he was hanging on me, and sat him into the high chair to eat. It was 6:30 am. The foster mother said he should feed him so he stops screaming. I was waiting in the hallway for the lady. Until we left, he didn’t stop yelling. I feel so terrible inside. I wish I could love him, but it seems we cannot do anything.” (p. 21-22)