If you are following me on twitter, then you probably saw my angry tweets about disrespected in my own home, a couple of hours ago. Many of you had no idea what I was writing about, so I'll tell you. I engaged in somewhat of a spiritual war.
So what exactly happened? Well, it all started when a friend of my mother's mentioned that there were these people, who were not Catholic, who would want to pray for my father in hopes that he gets better. I had no problem with it because, though they aren't of the same religion, who am I to say "No, you can't pray for my father because you're not Catholic."? That would be dumb. If you want to pray, pray. I have friends who are Jewish, Baptists, Protestants, agnostic, etc. and I pray for them, especially when they ask me to. I have no issues with other religions... as long as the people don't trash mine. So, I cleaned up the house and was determined to be a good host. I was in a great mood... until the house guests arrived.
From the minute they set foot in the house, I had a really bad feeling. I tried to shake it off and was cordial when I greeted them. It all started off good, I didn't even say anything when they brought out their Bibles and started "preaching" to us. I am secure enough in my faith that I can listen to others without betraying my own beliefs. Then one of the men started talking about how much he loved his Catholic "brethren" but how we were all misguided and how our religion was a bunch of trash because we "don't really know what the Bible says" and because we "don't know what God's true purpose is for us or for Himself." Evangelist say WHAT?! He had the audacity to come into a Catholic household (and he knew it was Catholic coming in) and then trash our religion. The guy did it to our faces, especially mine, too. Are you flippin' kidding me? If I didn't have self-control and if I wasn't trying, really hard, to continue acting like a lady, I would've given the guy a piece of my mind. So I just stayed quiet, though tweeting at this time, out of respect for my parents. Then he asked my father if he accepted Jesus Christ into his life. My dad, trying to be polite, just nodded. I could understand his apprehension, being Catholic. Then the other guy, his son, started talking about how we were going to hell if we did not accept Jesus in our lives -- according to their beliefs. He used me as an example of someone not accepting God in my life, and therefore, if I'm in a car accident, I won't be saved and I'll be spending eternity in hell. "Oh HECK no!!!!" I thought to myself. That's when the really heavy feeling I had in my chest felt unbearable.
They made my father cry... which made my mother cry. I did not cry. I was too angry to feel anything else. I went off to my room where I thought I was going to have a full blown panic attack. I didn't, thank goodness, but it certainly felt that way. As I said when I started re-telling the ordeal, I had a bad feeling as soon as they got there and that bad feeling felt more and more like a giant elephant was sitting on my chest... and had started to gain weight. I began to pray. That's what I do when I feel angry. I'm usually very mellow and I take things very well but these people pushed all the wrong buttons. It was like the whole situation where my classmate called God a *bleep* in English Lit last Fall semester -- times ten. These guys are lucky that I hate drama, and that I don't want to disrespect my parents by being rude to their guests, 'cause "feisty Emmy" would've come out and I'm very blunt when I'm that upset. I would've used my words carefully but I would've verbally kicked their butts out of my house.
So, as I said, I went into my room, closed the door and began to pray. Mom came into the room twice but I purposely kept myself in prayer because I didn't want to snap at anyone, especially my own mother. The second time she came in, I was kneeling down, under a picture of Our Lady of Guadalupe (the same one that's been with me since I was a little girl) and I was saying "Please, help me calm down. If these people mean no harm, please make me understand that." I guess my mom mentioned that I was praying, and was in the middle of an "Our Father", when the guy apparently took my parents and started praying over them. And it wasn't quiet... it was yelling. He was screaming, probably at my mother, to hold on to him and to not let go of him or God... blah, blah, blah. Look, I appreciate you wanting to pray for my daddy but you will NOT disrespect me in my own home, and then yell at the top of your lungs about how my father's illness should get out of his body (and something about burning)... etc, while I'm trying to pray. Grrr. I started getting dressed up, while still saying "Our Fathers" and "Hail Marys" out loud, trying to drown out the man's yelling, and got ready to leave as soon as they were done. I had the strongest desire to get out of the house asap. I felt like I was trapped. It was horrible. I began asking St. Benedict of Nursia and St. Michael Archangel to get these people out of my house if what they were doing was not good. Soon after that, I heard them starting to leave. After I got upset at my mother for coming into my room and taking money TO PAY THEM, I grabbed my things and I left, telling my parents that I was going out and that I would be coming back "in a little while."
I walked (according to google maps) 0.9 miles, in a rush, to the nearest Catholic Church. I love walking (seriously, just call me Elizabeth Bennett) and I figured that it would help me clear my mind and lower down the unhappy camper feeling I had. I don't like being angry. I loathe it as as I hate lying. Just, ugh. When I got to the parish, I was feeling a bit better. I went to confession and talked to Fr. Peter for a little bit. That alone made me feel a million times better. I prayed a bit before coming back home, and walked that 0.9 miles back home. Though the people are gone, my parents are not happy with me AND there's a weird tension in the house which stinks. These people offended me, made my parents cry, did things short of trying to convert us to their religion, AND left a mess in the house. My feelings are being hurt but, eh, I'm used to that so I can deal with it. Not being able to have the same dynamics with my parents... that I have an issue with. I pray that all the weirdness disappears soon.
After all the effort I've done for my dad... helping him come back to the Church, asking Blessed Pier Giorgio Frassati for his intercession, countless prayers and Rosaries said for my dad during his most difficult moments, etc... having him feel angry at me for not being happy about what happened with those people, and not accepting what they did to him, feels like a giant slap in my face. I'm sure that's not correct but that's what I feel. Regardless, I will continue to pray for my dad and do everything I can for him... because he's my dad and, no matter how crummy he treats me, I love him and I want him to feel better. And, considering that he is NOT going to get chemotherapy, he's going to stick it out and let the Lord take him when He wants, I'm going to have to put all differences aside.
If this all seemed like one big rant, I'm sorry. I was just trying to explain things fully to those of you who asked me what was going on. I hope now you understand why I felt the way I did.
I promise that the next blog will be much chipper and less "arghdghjg". :D I'm blessed with the ability to forgive and forget quite easily... and it's rare when I'm upset for longer than a little while. :) Thanks to all those who prayed for my during this "spiritual war" I had going on.
As always, thanks for reading and God Bless. :)