The Howling of a Wolf

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This message was on the back of the Queen of Mercy votive candles back in 1988. 

My dear children,

Why do you continue to pierce my soul? I have come to show you the way to salvation, to everlasting joy. My children, you must repent. You must fast. You must pray. And you must love your brothers and sisters…I beg you to take advantage of the sacraments of penance and holy communion...My children, you must forgive each other. Do not hold grudges. Forgive as my son forgives, don’t let Satan have a hold on you. My children, time is short. Please heed my warning. Turn from sin and to my son. 

                                                      PREFACE

Let me begin this book in introducing myself. My name is Theresa Marie Steiert Fleischman (former Werner), forth generation Steiert being my maiden name.

Settling in Nazareth in 1905, my great grandparents Ulrich and Anna Marie Steiert were builders of Catholic missions throughout the country and the back bone of many surrounding communities such as Nazareth, Hart, and Dimmit.

I was born in the month of January of 1955 in Plainview, Texas, being of German, Irish and American-Indian descent (Cherokee on my mother’s side). My mother Earlene, a housewife and headstrong woman was always fashionable. My father, Peter, a third generation farmer of Nazareth, raised my sister, my two brothers and me out on a farm to market road JCT 928 heading East in the Nazareth district. We bordered between Nazareth and Hart, Texas but since that time recently the farm has been sold to McClain.

My parents were Roman Catholics. My mother being a convert to the faith raised each of us children in the faith of the Holy Family Catholic Church in Nazareth, Texas. Thirteen days after my birth, I was baptized.

As a little girl, I remember so many special things about the farm. I always loved being awakened by the warm east sun rays coming into my bedroom window, and hearing the songs of the distant Meadowlarks with the Sparrows fussing at the front porch of our humble pink farm house. I remember always saying a little prayer before I would get out of bed. My father was always up before dawn checking on the water wells or ditches, to see if any of them had broken during the night. 

These were the times my youngest brother and I would jump at the chance to go with dad to get a ride on the tractor, or just to go along to romp and play. We would throw a dirt clod into the water ditch just to hear the big splash, or possibly get to see a rabbit or maybe a coyote. We would do all the things children normally do, except on a more grander scale, being out on the farm and getting into bigger trouble.

School years were difficult for me. It seemed I was terribly shy and did not make friends easily. My grades were poor, and I had to study very hard to make passing grades which was seldom. I remember often being teased unmercifully by the bullies of the class because I couldn’t tell the time or didn’t know the answer to a question. Never having a bosom pal, I played alone quite a bit, but then the moods from fellow class mates changed to mischief. I was certainly to be their victim.

The nuns taught with a ruler in hand and by very strict values. Their faces were stern, and much prayer was our daily diet. "Hell and damnation," was what they taught day after day. Each day after classes we would march to the Holy Family Church centered in the town of Nazareth. After reaching the church we would all enter the pews and kneel. There we would pray, sing, and learn about an angry God, but a loving God Who knew all and saw all.

Thinking back to those days gone by, I realize now that these dedicated women of God meant well for all of us children and also helped establish a firm foundation in our faith beliefs.

I remember so very well my First Holy Communion on the eighth day of April, in my lovely white dress and veil. Oh, it was all so marvelous and it seemed as if the whole little community of Nazareth came to witness and take part in this most blessed event. My mother chose the most beautiful dress for me and had me all dolled up like a princess. All the young ladies were lovely, but jealousies always seemed to arise among the girls, and there would be nasty remarks or tongues "sticking out" at one another.

The procession would begin with the young boys on one side of the church and the girls on the other side. We all walked in perfect order with the lovely organ music playing. Each of the girls carried white lilies or some kind of flowers which added all the more beauty to the special occasion. The church bells began ringing and then the singing would soon follow. The priest who celebrated this memorable Mass was Reverend Msgr. Peter Morsch. His face kind and gentle, soon erased any tension or fear. The anticipation of receiving my First Holy Communion was building with every passing moment as my mouth began to get dry and my heart would beat a little faster. The Mass slowly but progressively moved forward. At last the moment had arrived! 

                                          HOLY COMMUNION DAY

I nervously went up to the communion rail and knelt on the red velvet cushion. The top of the railing was white marble and there were intricate designs everywhere. The altar boy was now coming closer as I began to pray a little prayer to Jesus. Face to face, at last the cold, gold Communion Paten touching my chin. The Latin words spoken, "Corpus Domini nostri Jesu Christi custodiat animam tuam in vitam alternam. Amen." "The body of Our Lord Jesus Christ preserve your soul to life everlasting. Amen." Oh, sweet Bread of Life - Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, I love you! Tears of joy welled up in my eyes as I savored this most intimate moment between me and my Lord, Jesus.

After we returned to our pews, the celebration was soon over. My parent’s faces I did not see right away with a crowd milling about but I do recall many compliments and congratulations from the elders of the community. My Godparents were always doing special things for me, too. Seemed to me, Marie, my Godmother, had such special gifts for me, and always a kind word. She never forgot me.

My faith was deeply strengthened by the sights and sounds of Holy Mass and a Father who occasionally would teach me about my Catholic Faith and on one occasion explained to me the true presence of Christ in the Exposition of the Blessed Sacrament. All other credits go to the black army booted Benedict Nuns of Nazareth. The family Rosary started out strong with good intentions by my Father but, after two nights my mother put an end to this nightly devotion.

It was during this time in our lives that my mother fell ill to alcoholism. It was the reason for losing the heart of our home that was seldom happy. There was abuse that came with this illness and the whole family suffered from it. My parents tried to do their best for the four of us kids in good and bad times.

What touched my life most deeply were the trips we took every summer to Cowles, New Mexico. On these vacation adventures we would go fishing, hiking, and horseback riding. In the evenings after a long day of play, the young Indian boys would ride down the mountains on their Indian ponies to participate in a game of pool or to get a cool soda pop. It was really neat to see real native Indians.

My brother Patrick and I were always together. My brother Jim was more independent and much older than Patrick and I.

I would always withdraw from any flirting or crowds. I guess in many ways I was a bit backward wearing cat-eye rimmed glasses, and I felt as if I were in a shell. This was brought about from the mental abuses afflicted on me from my parents, especially my mother who often criticized me. This caused me to have an inferior complex and learning disability. I withdrew to myself and fell in love with God's nature when my brother Patrick and I took our hikes. It was one of these hikes that brought me the awareness of God's might. A storm came up with heavy rain and lightning. My brother and I found shelter in an open cabin. Here we stayed watching the storm and feeling the cool breezes pass over us as we listened to the crashing of the thunder. All of this opened my eyes to the wonder of God and His magnificence in all of His creation.

In my pre-teen years my mother was spending more time away from home and seldom did we know where she was. I became more withdrawn and spent much time by myself or on my black mare horse, Beauty, which my father had purchased for me as a pastime amusement and to keep me company. Most young ladies were dating by this time. These things did not interest me. I had wonderful times riding my horse and exploring nature. I often rode down to the water well to wade in the cold water and to let my horse graze.

It was at one of these particular times, without the horse, when I felt I experienced God's presence in a very close way. It frightened me so that I began to run back to the farm house which was a quarter of a mile away. My senses told me that I could not outrun God. I fell to my knees on the ground. A grey-blue cloud dropped down over me in a circular rotation. It came closer and closer. There was a great stillness, almost breathless feeling. I immediately looked down to the ground for I strongly "felt" the presence of God. I became frightened. It was at that moment that I told the Lord that I was sorry that I had offended Him. I had been skinny dipping.

After awhile, when the cloud seemed to begin to lift upward, I felt I could get back up on my feet. I started to run back to the house. I was barefooted and I carried my shoes in my hands as I ran down the country road. I did not step on any stickers, although the roads were full of them. I felt like I was flying because I was running so fast. I felt unexplainably wonderful and very happy. I dared not tell my mother or my father of this experience. They always felt I had an over-active imagination. When I reached home, the solemn glance of my mother spoke of my idleness and waste of time. It was at these moments that I would be punished with the spanking of a shoe or a belt and scolded.

My days as a child and young teenager were quiet, lonely and unhappy times filled with verbal criticism and crass remarks.

The rest of my remaining school years were trying, difficult, and vexing to other members of my family as well. We transferred over to the Hart School district, a predominately Protestant community. Being Catholic, I didn't fit in well because there was much prejudice. Awkwardly behind, shy, and being unfamiliar with my new surroundings, I failed and was forced to stay behind in the sixth grade. The rest of my school days, including high school were spent in recluse not attending many social events.

I preferred to remain in the library, as the school populace attended the pep rallies for the upcoming football games. I did not date or go out because; I felt many of the young men were vulgar in their language, with sexual remarks and advances. I withdrew all the more. Of course, many of my fellow classmates thought me as odd and very unsociable, simply due to the fact that I did not want to be a part of their world or their social gatherings.

I began to take up art, drawing and painting, for it gave me sheer pleasure and a sense of accomplishment. Many of my works concentrated on the life of Jesus Christ, or some of the Saints. I studied the anatomy, western art, and above all, nature's wildlife. I began showing my works of art in Floydada, Plainview, Lubbock, and Amarillo Texas.

It was at this time that my mother suggested that I observe the techniques and works of other artists. I felt that my witnessing other styles in painting with oils, water colors, pastels, and charcoal helped me strive to do better, although I never had any art lessons.

My mother felt that my works were too large and tried to discourage me in showing my art, saying, "Most folks do not have the room in their homes for such large paintings." I started to work on trying to do smaller pictures, but I favored the "great, bulky, and big." I stopped the competition and began to be more of an observer.

I have to admit I was glad to get out of high school in the year of 1974.It was that coming late September when I experienced another phenomena on the high plains of Texas. 

As children we had always heard about the Comanche Indians living on the high plains. In school we were taught about the Palo Duro Canyon Battle and how Colonel Ranald MacKenzie and his troops in 1874 attacked the Indian settlement down in the Canyons. The Native Americans were forced onto reservations and 2000 of the Indian Ponies were taken captive. These horses were taken to the Tule Canyons, which are not far from my parent's home, and were shot to death. This act took away the Indian's freedom and caused them much privation.

There is a saying that these canyons are haunted by the ghost horses and you sometimes can hear their screams and cries.

I was one of those who heard their cries , which caused me much anxiety and grief and I prayed to God to comfort them. It was the 100th anniversary of their slaughter when I experienced this East of my parent's home.

I then went to Business College in Lubbock, Texas. I was truly hoping for a career in art in the field of wildlife or greeting cards. I again was disappointed when I found that the line of work I was aiming for was not available at the Business School I was attending. I would have to go to Dallas. Both of my parents forbid this with no questions asked.

My mother decided for me that I would be a Cosmetologist, a line of work which I detested. After I finished my training in Plainview, Providence intervened and I was blessed to go on a European Tour with two of my cousins. We would be under the supervision of my uncle Anthony and his wife stationed in Frankfurt, Germany.

With the surprising permission of my parents, we were off on a wonderful and unforgettable adventure for the summer. For three months we toured Europe to see the beautiful sights and scenery of Switzerland, Italy, Germany, and London, England.

I was so thrilled to see Saint Peter's Basilica in Rome. There we saw "The Moses", and the glory of the sculptor's art, the famed "Pieta", which was completed by Michelangelo at the age of twenty-three. I was moved deeply to be in the Sistine Chapel to see all the marvelous paintings. I remember being in a special room which contained many holy relics of many Saints.

We saw the Catacombs, the Wies Church in Bavaria, Koln Am Rhein, Saint Mark's Square, the Cathedral of Notre Dame, and many other spiritual places. We visited the Louvre, with many of its famous works of art, the Eiffel Tower, the Arch of Triumph and toured many exquisite castles such as, the Linderhof Castle in Bavaria and the Neuschwanstein Castle. During my time in Europe, I witnessed many customs, cultures, and different foods. On July 4th, 1976, we spent time with the Steiert family in the SchwartzWald (Black Forest) in Germany.

When we returned back to the U.S.A, I decided then to move to California to get a job in Secretarial Business. I was soon employed by Validyne Engineering Corporation doing secretarial work. While in California I enjoyed going to the beach on weekends and visiting Disney Land.

After some time in California, I moved back to Lubbock and resumed my practice in cosmetology but it was not enough to sustain me. My parents were financially aiding me.

One evening while visiting the farm, I was called into my mother’s bedroom for a serious talk. My mother had become obsessed that I had to get married and threatened to throw me out of the house and withdraw all financial support if I didn’t! She had on her bed laid down several Sheela Woods Midnight Globe ads. I could see on the paper that my mother had circled several listings of men for me to meet. My mother’s face was stern and she was determined to get me married.

“Theresa,” my mother said, “you're not getting any younger. Find you a husband! Don’t you want to have a husband you can share life with and some kids?”

Yes, I wanted a husband, I was tired of being alone but I didn’t want this under threat and fear. I was afraid and yet more afraid of being thrown out into the streets so I started using my hunting instincts like that of days gone by when I went on my horse with my 22 rifle.

Only this was the two legged hunt this time. I had a dead line to meet and I had to find a husband fast!

I continued to work in the field of cosmetology and prayed each night for God to save me, keeping faith and hope that Our Lord would bring me someone special to love.

I didn’t like any of the men my mother had circled for me and had made arrangements for me to meet. So I looked through the ads myself in hopes I could find someone more compatible to my personality. I had my hopes on a man from Alaska whose words were not so threatening and did not sound so domineering.

Please continue reading on the next page, "Howling Wolf, Early Life"