A Mother's Letter to Her Newborn Child Shortly Before Her Execution

They can try to erase our histories and lie to our children, but truth will prevail. They will never succeed in destroying what it means to be a mother.

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You can listen to me read this essay here:

I’m a little late to the party with this post but I’ve been busy being a grandma this weekend. It’s amazing to me to look at the photo below and think that my daughter was a newborn baby and my mom had come to visit for two weeks, from Los Angeles to London, to help me—surely that only happened yesterday, not in 1982!

My mom, Ruth Hunt, and my newborn daughter, Katya.

Now my daughter is a grown woman, and she is the mom being celebrated today. I am the grandma. I sing the songs to my grandchildren that my mom sang to me. I read them the children’s books that I wrote and illustrated and dedicated to my children. Passing our stories on to the next generation is something I write a lot about. The new regime wants to erase our stories, the very essence of who we are, and we can’t let that happen.

Cover of one of my books that I read to my children.

My mom, Ruth Klassen Hunt, was a Mennonite. As a child, she lived in Winnepeg, Canada, with her brother, mother and father. I have many relatives there, hardworking farmers, and I remember visiting them as a child. I remember swimming in the pond, playing all day, climbing on tractors and chasing after animals. At mealtime, the table was covered with bountiful food. I wonder how long it will be before those ways of living will be gone forever.

My grandfather was a traveling preacher. He would leave the family alone for long periods of time while he went off preaching the gospel. My mom recalls living in a barn, with sawdust on the floor. She grew up so poor all they had to eat at times was raw oats and she described to us how hard it was to chew and swallow. Imagine, after that, how lame it was to complain at the dinner table if I didn’t like something. It seemed a sorry reason not to eat my dinner—although that didn’t stop me from making my excuses. Her parents were very strict. So strict that she wasn’t allowed any toys. Once, a neighbor gave her a doll and it was taken away. I would think all of this would have made her harbor resentment and bitterness, but that was not the case at all. She took the good from her upbringing and left the negative behind.

Mom met my dad, Christian author Dave Hunt, at UCLA where she graduated with a degree in history. You can watch a fantastic talk of his below:

Mom became the anchor without which my dad would have been lost. She kept everything organized and edited his books. She answered his mail and reminded him of the practicalities of life, like what time he had to leave for his flight to India, or wherever, that the car needed to be washed on Saturday night so it would be shiny clean on Sunday morning, or that the taxes had to be done on time, things like that.

Both my parents loved telling stories to us in the evenings. My mom often recounted stories of our Mennonite heritage. In one of my first essays, I tell a little bit about one of those stories. She can trace our family all the way back to Anabaptists of the 16th century. Indeed, one of my ancestors died in a Spanish prison for refusing to give up his faith.

The many stories of courage of those who were tortured and died are immortalized in a book called The Martyrs’ Mirror, compiled by Thieleman van Braught in 17th century Netherlands. It was written as an exhortation to believers who had grown a little too complacent in their faith.

We would do well to take these stories to heart today.

Front page of The Martyrs’ Mirror

I want to recount one of the stories that my mother told us when we were children. It is about a mother who had to give up her newborn baby when she was martyred for her faith. It’s called A Mother’s Farewell: Letter by Janneken Muntsdorp, Martyred in 1573

Here is an explanation of how Janneken came to be executed, her husband preceding her, recorded in The Martyrs’ Mirror:

…This was first put into execution on Hans van Munstdorp, who, about the month of September of the aforesaid year, was taken out of the fold, away from the other four, as a sheep for the slaughter, and; according to the sentence passed, put to death with a huge fire, which severe and grievous death he steadfastly endured, with a heart full of good cheer:

The reason why the other four persons were not put to death with him, was chiefly because his wife Janneken Munstdorp was very far advanced in pregnancy, and was soon to be delivered, which took place shortly after her dear husband was burnt. She was delivered of a little daughter, whom she, since she was now also soon to die, named, after her own name, Janneken, and made great haste to get the child (before the priests should lay hands on it) to the friends, to whom she heartily commended it, and also wrote a testament full of excellent instructions to this little daughter, when she was about a month old, which testament the friends preserved for her.

When the time of her offering up was at hand, so that she was sentenced on the 6th of October, to follow her husband by a like death; which message also the other three women, namely, Mariken, Lijskeiz, and Maeyken, received, for which they joyfully and willingly prepared themselves, longing for the hour of their redemption.

This sentence was executed on them at the time and hour appointed, when they offered up to the Lord a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable, for which they shall hereafter be exempt from eternal fire, and permitted to enter into the blessed enjoyment in the paradise of God. They shall hunger no more, neither thirst any more; neither shall the sun light on them, nor any heat. For the Lamb which is in the midst of the throne shall feed them, and shall lead them unto living fountains of waters: and God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes. Revelation 7:16, 17. (van Braught, 1660, p.984).

My mom read Janneken’s letter to her child to us more than once, her voice filled with emotion and her eyes near tears. Here is a portion of the letter (you can read it all here):

Since, then, the Lord has so ordered and foreordained it, that I must leave you here, and you are here deprived of father and mother, I will commend you to the Lord; let Him do with you according to His holy will. He will govern you. and be a Father to you, so that you shall have no lack here, if you only fear God; for He will be the Father of the orphans and the Protector of the widows.

Hence, my dear lamb, I who am imprisoned and bound here for the Lord’s sake, can help you in no other way; I had to leave your father for the Lord’s sake, and could keep him only a short time. We were permitted to live together only half a year, after which we were apprehended, because we sought the salvation of our souls. They took him from me, not knowing my condition, and I had to remain in imprisonment, and see him go before me; and it was a great grief to him, that I had to remain here in prison. And now that I have abided the time, and borne you under my heart with great sorrow for nine months, and given birth to you here in prison, in great pain, they have taken you from me. Here I lie, expecting death every morning, and shall now soon follow your dear father. And I, your dear mother, write you, my dearest child, something for a remembrance, that you will thereby remember your dear father and your dear mother.

And, my dear child, this is my request of you, since you are still very little and young; I wrote this when you were but one month old. As I am soon now to offer up my sacrifice, by the help of the Lord, I leave you this, “That you fulfill my request, always uniting with them that fear God; and do not regard the pomp and boasting of the world, nor the great multitude, whose way leads to the abyss of hell, but look at the little flock of Israelites, who have no freedom anywhere, and must always flee from one land to the other, as Abraham did; that you may hereafter obtain your fatherland; for if you seek your salvation, it is easy to perceive which is the way that leads to life, or the way that leads into hell. Above all things, seek the kingdom of heaven and His righteousness; and whatever you need besides shall be added unto you. Matt. 6:33.”

Further, my dear child, I pray you, that wherever you live when you are grown up, and begin to have understanding, you conduct yourself well and honestly, so that no one need have cause to complain of you. And always be faithful, taking good heed not to wrong any one. Learn to carry your hands always uprightly, and see that you like to work, for Paul says, “If any will not work, neither shall he eat.” (2 Thesalonians 3:10). And Peter says, “He that will love life, and see good days, let him refrain his tongue from evil.” (1 Peter 3:10).

Hence, my dear Janneken, do not accustom your mouth to filthy talk, nor to ugly words that are not proper, nor to lies; for a liar has no part in the kingdom of heaven; for it is written, “The mouth that lieth slayeth the soul.” Hence beware of this, and run not in the street as other bad children do; rather take up a book, and learn to seek there that which concerns your salvation.

And where you have your home, obey those whose bread you eat. If they speak evil, do you speak well. And learn always to love to be doing something; and do not think yourself too good for any thing, nor exalt yourself, but condescend to the lowly, and always honor the aged wherever you are.

It’s hard for me to read this without tears in my own eyes. What better advice could a mother give? But who says this to their children today? Who has this sense of urgency, this conviction? We are way too complacent.

There are always a million reasons why we can say we wouldn’t respond the way Janneken did. Reasons that most people would say are good reasons and show that we are responsible people. Janneken could have justified denying her faith so that she could stay with her daughter. Isn’t that what a loving mother would do?

But those were different times. Those were times when a person’s word meant something. When faith was more important than worldly possessions or looking cool on social media (that sounds so absurd in light of Janneken’s letter). Reality was where people lived. Reality meant you couldn’t hide behind a smart phone screen. It meant if you said something, you had to abide by it or you were called a liar. Words didn’t change their meanings. They were carefully recorded and passed around. Those were the days when the common people finally were able to read the Bible and other books for themselves and draw their own conclusions. Information was no longer kept from them. Now, the opposite is true. We are flooded with information—but more and more of it is lies and meaningless drivel meant to keep us from focusing on deeper truths.

Truth was evident all around a person in those days. Life was hard. For my ancestors, a life of purpose instead of a life of privilege was what mattered. Nothing has changed, as much as the despots and their henchmen would like us to believe it has. Success is not about being a billionaire, another thing that is exposed as an absurdity in light of Janneken’s letter.

I was taught as a child, and I did my best to pass that teaching on to my children, that I lived in the world, but I should not be part of it. This was very hard for me as a teenager to grasp. I wanted to fit in. I wanted to be cool. I would walk to high school in the clothes that were acceptable to my parents, and I would change into my “hippie” clothes at my friend’s house along the way. To me, the most humiliating thing was wearing clothes that my peers might make fun of. That’s how shallow teenagers can be—and I was one of them, at least in the area of clothes!

Now, children can alter their appearance in so many ways, they are even being encouraged to cut off their body parts. How do we bring them back to the truth? A friend of mine, Adam Rosen, put this suggestion on Facebook:

It seems so obvious, doesn’t it? But this is the last thing the powers that be would want to see happen. They want the elders gone and their stories forgotten.

And, no, this is not a mother and never will be. This is a lie being fed to our children and if we don’t tell them the truth with our stories, the day will come when the lie will be all they know.

As the world grows darker, our light must shine brighter.

Janneken exhorts us to not fear but to rejoice in our hope, which is not of this world. So why are we so concerned about fitting into it?

“…for if we were to continue in the world, we would have had no trouble. For when we were one with the world and practiced idolatry, and loved all manner of unrighteousness, we could live at peace with the world; but when we desired to fear God and to shun such improper ways…then they did not leave us in peace; then our blood was sought; then we had to be a prey to everyone, and become a spectacle to all the world. They seek here to murder and burn us; we are placed at posts and stakes, and our flesh is given as food to the worms.”

We can spend our time complaining or we can shine that light out of our hearts to others because that’s what the world needs right now, more than anything. We don’t understand why things are looking so bad. But that’s not our problem to figure out. We are told over and over again:

"Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight." (Proverbs 3:5-6)

I am so thankful I had a mother who taught me the right path—even though I was determined for so long not to follow it. I am so thankful she taught me the importance of our stories and passing them on. I didn’t understand any of that when she was telling those stories and I was listening in our safe, cozy home, as a child. I don’t think she knew how important those stories would become in the future. Who could have ever imagined we would find ourselves in a world where machines, manipulated by puppet masters behind the screens, would be wiping the minds of our children clean and indoctrinating them with falsehoods from the new gods of tech and pestilence.

This is my story that I pass on to my children and grandchildren. I am of Mennonite background, but that’s a very small portion of humanity. We all have stories. Wonderful, inspiring stories, or stories of failures that we have learned from that we can pass on and that’s what we need to do. I will keep saying it over and over. Especially on a day like today when we remember those amazing mothers who inspire us.

God Bless you all! Here’s one of my paintings, about Rosamund, who needed to learn a lesson about kindness and respecting her elders. (She threw her rabbit at her mom)

My watercolor from The Lost Princess, by George McDonald

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