Sabbaths were a mixed blessing. On one hand, we didn't have to do any work other than what was necessary to get through the day. On the other hand, Dad was bored and we were more or less confined to the house, a bad combination. Of course, even on Sabbaths, we weren't exempt from rubbing his back, feet, legs, hands, etc. The usual Sabbath routine was to get up and dressed, empty the pot and wash water buckets, eat breakfast, and start our service. To begin with, Mom or Dad would pray. Then we would play a song on a tape from one of the Assemblies of Yahweh in the midwest. The radio worked because it was wired to a car battery. The song was a direct quote of one of the psalms, "Make a joyful noise unto Yahweh, all ye, all ye lands...". Usually Mom played it more than once, and we would all sing along. Often she played it four times, because 4 was a good number, unlike 3 or 5. Once she played it 7 or 8 times in a row, and we had to sing along each time, until I thought I would scream if I ever had to sing that song again! We sang other songs, too, but we always sang that one first, and often ended with it, too. Then she would read prophecies and she would lay out which scriptures Yahweh had told her to have us read that week, and we would take turns reading the verses. She would give her interpretations. Dad would lecture. He always liked Malachi and Isaiah and doom and gloom readings from the prophets that cursed Egypt and Babylon. Whenever a verse talked about Jerusalem, it was understood that this was talking about Mom. She was the physical embodiment of Jerusalem. She would be humbled and cry in the places where it said Jerusalem was an unfaithful wife. After an hour or two or more of this, or however long it took to read and discuss the readings, we would sing more songs and then eat lunch. Then, if we were lucky, we would get to retreat to our rooms and read our bibles or write prayers. If we were very, very lucky, we might get to take a nap. Usually, though, Dad wanted a nap, and it was our job to massage him and lull him to sleep. If we were unlucky, Mom would have "words" from Yahweh regarding the spiritual weaknesses of each (or specific) member of the family and everyone would sit and discuss this person's poor character and exhort them to be more righteous, and Dad would lecture and insult and preach at them about their failings.

I was rebellious because I thought my own thoughts, and "did my own thing" and everyone knew Yahweh frowned on that. I needed to open my heart to Yahweh's thoughts. Sarah was worldly because she cared too much about the outside world and her appearances. She should heed the example of Dinah, who was interested in the ways of the world and got raped and defiled by gentiles as a result. I should be more like my sister, feminine and interested in being a good wife someday. She should be more like me, hard working and not afraid to get her hands dirty, not so dainty. And so on, for each and every one of us. Dad often had Sarah sit on his lap as he made these comparisons. She was "his princess Sarah". I see now that she was being groomed, but at the time, I felt only a deep sense of shame for being who I was, a helplessness at not being able to be just like her, and a simmering resentment. Against her, because she was almost perfect and was constantly held before me as what I should be like, and against them for successfully driving a wedge between my sister and I, and for not loving me for who I really was.

The Fridays (we called it the sixth day) were always highly stressful. Mom had us run around in a frenzy of cleaning and preparation for Sabbath. It didn't end until the sun went down, and then we all breathed a sigh of relief.