My four-year-old daughter, Emma, stood completely still for a moment—then suddenly rushed toward the pastor, shouting something that brought the entire room into stunned silence.

So what might come out of his mouth.

My daughter continued crying, swallowing hard, trying to piece together words that should never have existed in her memory.

—She put a white powder in special jars… just like Mom’s.

The phrase hit every face in the room like acid.

I felt nauseous.

Not a metaphor.