Sunday, March 16, 2025

  Sunday, March 16, 2025 

   Dean and Nina stopped by on their morning walk. Dean said he fully understood the problem I was having with my car.  It was all caused by my charger and the associated electrical system exposed to the sun and moisture. None of it was Kia's fault. It was all mine.  He sounded downright angry at me.  I suspect he was angry at himself for not thinking of the problem earlier.  He knew about the issues I was having with my car and saw the setup whenever he visited.  He was also angry that I didn't know about dielectric gel.  I haven't met anyone who does know about it.  It's sold primarily to extend the life of lightbulbs. Coating the electric end of the bulb prevents moisture from getting in and extends its life.     

  I looked for the woman I had helped with her back problem today at church. She usually sat in the same spot where she could see me sitting on the lanai just outside the main church.  We waved to each other. After Mass, she looked for me and gave me a hug.  This is the same woman who invited me for Christmas dinner.

   Today, I couldn't see her. I thought perhaps she and her husband would come to a different Mass. But no, I could see her husband sitting in the same spot.  He was also a Eucharistic minister. After Mass, I looked for her. I had a copy of Esther Gokhale's book, 8 Steps to a Pain-Free Back.  Two weeks ago, I showed the woman Gokhale's sitstretch and did a bit of manipulation on her back. It gave her immediate relief. The following week, she still felt relief.  I asked if I could do more work. I started by just sending energy. This woman and her husband are involved with the regular healing Masses.  I thought nothing of it.  I could feel she was blocking the energy and quickly stopped.

    I told her I was trained in Reiki. That made matters worse. The church speaks against Reiki specifically. Not only was she upset to learn I was trained in Reiki, but she also looked up Gokhale online and expressed concern that Esther was Eastern Indian.  I have no idea what religion Gokhale is. I couldn't care less. I don't judge people by their religion.  This is a big issue for this otherwise lovely and loving woman. She is a Catholic fundamentalist. 

    When I looked for her after Mass, I saw her sitting with her husband at the back of the church.  I wasn't too concerned about the long-term impact on me- for now.  I wasn't expecting her to organize a witch burning or dunking. I was much more concerned for her. If she genuinely believes Reiki is evil and she has been subjected to it, it may have caused trauma. I'm concerned for her.  She lived a good life. I feel very sad if my actions have deeply violated her because her place of safety is in the church alone. I never imagined such a narrow point of view from an educated person. It was naïve of me. I pray for her.

    I have a story for her that may make her feel better. I did healing before I studied Reiki. I had been attracted to the Catholic Church since I was twelve years old. Most people believe I converted because of Mike. I may have, but we'll have to assume some force knew I would marry him, he would convert, and he would need my support.

     My family took a trip to Quebec. My dad organized a visit to the healing shrine on the Saint Lawrence River, Saint Anne de Beaupre. My dad wanted to show us how silly beliefs were.  The following September, the warts that ringed my fingernail beds disappeared. When my dad saw that, he said, "I lit a candle for this at the shrine." So much for his disbelief and then mine. 

   I have wrestled with this pull to the church ever since. When in Manhattan, I often stopped at Saint Patrick's Cathedral in New York City. One day, I went there after a therapy session to hand over my concern for my deceased father to Jesus. I didn't want to carry that burden anymore. After addressing a statue of the infant Jesus with, "Here. He's your problem now," I stood in the back of the church, ready to pick a saint to pray to.  

     Saint Patrick's is 332 feet long, about the length of a football field.  Most of it is from the kneeling rail to the back of the church.  A quarter to a third of it is for the altar and a walking space with alcoves for saints behind it.  Alcoves for Saints line either side of the space.  I stood at the back of the church and asked which saint I should pick.  I pointed to the spot that felt right. 

It was to the side of the altar, invisible to me from where I stood. I walked to that spot and discovered it was Saint Therese de Lisieux. I thought, "Damn, it's a woman." What can I tell you?  This strong advocate for women's rights had a bad moment.  St. Therese is associated with spiritual healing. My gift for healing manifested after that encounter.  I don't know if that information will help this poor woman. While I believe she is in distress from what I saw after Mass on Sunday, I don't know if it was her encounter with my healing that caused it. Whatever the cause, I wish her the best. 

    I checked the information on St. Therese de Lisieux. I reread her prayer for personal healing, which aims to clear her of all her inadequacies and make her a better person. I found it very moving. I know it's been my prayer. I do not know if she managed to conquer all the inadequacies that haunt us all. I doubt it. I don't think anyone masters that.

  The big challenge is getting myself to the point where I can accept defeat and let my hopes for something go.  I work hard for that. Mostly, it's worked out.  Weirdly, when I change, it dramatically impacts the other person, even if they have no explicit information about it.  Fortunately, things have worked out well for me most of the time. Sometimes, the only solution is to let the person go permanently.  They don't like me. They want nothing to do with me.  I have to let them go, as sad as that may be. But my efforts have resulted in some amazingly positive results.

    My connecting with Mike was such a shift.  I gave up on ever finding a life partner. I decided I would date any man who I didn't think would cause me bodily harm.  I would do what  I wanted to do on each date. I would only go out with someone once a month, and they would only call me once a week. If I wanted to go home, I would. I modeled this behavior after Freya, one of the many therapists who kicked me out. But before she did, she told a similar story. She would date anyone- but leave the moment it didn't feel right. Once, a man was waiting for her in the lobby of her apartment. She got off the elevator, took one look at him, turned around, and went home. Loved it.  Mike was my third date. The rest is history.

    My biggest problem was my mom. The change came when I gave up, but one has to be ready to give up. Getting myself into that mental state wasn't easy. I had Mike to hold on to then. I wasn't alone anymore. I could afford to risk losing my relationship with her forever. I knew what was at stake.  

   I wrote her a letter, telling her I had been afraid of her all my life.  I had tried everything; now, I decided to take a break. When Thanksgiving came around, she called me. She said, "I'm old. I forgive you (for writing that letter). You can come for Thanksgiving."  I told her I wasn't ready yet.

   The following November, I got a call from a cousin. My mom was coming to their house for Thanksgiving. Would I consider coming? I accepted the offer. The first contact was tentative and polite. It was what I feared it would be - distant. But it felt okay. Mike and I accepted an invitation to her house for dinner. It moved rapidly to a more intimate relationship. I had resolved that I would leave after three critical comments. I wouldn't be confrontational. I would make an excuse and go. But I would be back. The position gave me a lot of strength. She rarely violated my unspoken rule. 

   My mom lived with Mike and me for the last eighteen years of her life. It still gives me the greatest feeling of satisfaction, besides my life with Mike. Toward the end of her life, she told me how much that letter hurt her. The letter included a very positive image of her living with me, but she forgot that and focused on the negative. She never realized that if I hadn't written that letter and made those changes within me, she could never have lived with us.