PUTTING ABUSE IN THE PAST

“COME O HOLY SPIRIT FILL THE HEARTS OF YOUR FAITHFUL AND ENKINDLE IN USTHE FIRE OF YOUR LOVE”

After Bulimia and Addiction and self-Hatred…Came Healing.

The words stung like a wind-whipped branch: “worthless…you’ll never amount to anything…your fault..set a good example.”

I knew my father was right.

Silently, I consumed his words.

They became who I was.

Living in a home with physical and emotional abuse gave me the strength of survival. I was able to hide my fears and pretend that I was perfect. Covering up my mother’s alcoholism and her frequent suicide attempts brought out my mothering instincts to my sister and brothers. I became confidante to both my father and my mother. I was their mediator and counselor. I tried to repair their marriage, but generally I seemed to make things worse.

As the eldest child, I faced high expectations. My grades had to be perfect, but even then weren’t good enough. I was expected always to keep a positive attitude and to be helpful. I was never to cry, for crying showed weakness. My goal was to be perfect in order to make my parents happy. If I made them happy, I was told that Mom would not drink, they would not fight and, I rationalized, we kids would not get hit.

My parents kept my life under tight control. My phone calls were monitored, my friends were chosen for me. School days were interrupted by humiliating visits from my father-generally calling me home because I forgot to clean something. My mail was opened, my diary read and my room inspected. Nothing was hidden, nothing could be a secret-except our lives.

Yet, outwardly, we seemed like the perfect family. We ate dinner together, attended Sunday Mass, dressed well, had a nice home, and our parents bragged about us in public. At home, we were told how we really measured up; and we never did.

My weight was the only thing beyond their control. I ate to fill the void that needed to be filled with love. Some days I would stuff cookies into the pockets of my sweatshirt, go up to my room and eat everyone before dinner. People teased me. Then I discovered that by taking laxatives, sticking my finger down my throat and by eating little more than lettuce, I could loose weight.

I lost about 90 pounds in just a few months. My parents were thrilled that I was beginning to look acceptable; in fact, once they even said they were proud of me. I took on three part-time summer jobs, riding my bike to each. Not-eating and getting little sleep took its toll, though. Mom and Dad began to express concern at my lethargy. And their expression of concern was anger. Yet I was thrilled! There was nothing they could do about this. No one knew my little secret. I reveled in the knowledge that a small part of me was still under my control. I could silently rebel, and no one knew but me. I also enjoyed the newfound attention from the boys and girls at school.

But I was dying inside.

I kept up this pattern for the next five years. During that time, I met and married a wonderful man, Alan, and became pregnant with our first child. I wanted to make things different for my baby, I wanted to break the abusive and dysfunctional pattern.

My parents’ crises continued, however. Each day for the first 14years of my marriage, brought a phone call from Dad asking that I keep Mother busy so she didn’t drink or become depressed. If she did act this way-and she usually did-Dad would grill me about what I did to make her sad. Though I didn’t drink, I had my own addictive behaviors. Mine were centered on seeking approval, workaholism and overeating. My weight crept up to 211, which further intensified my feelings of worthlessness. I tried to compensate, to be supermom  to my kids and Mr’s.Cleaver to my husband.

To the point of exhaustion, I gave my kids the time and attention I never received. I tried to be the compassionate, loving wife that my mom never could be. Everyone seemed happy…except me.

A little voice always permeated my thoughts: “worthless…garbage…Ugly…you make me sick.”

No matter what I did, it was never enough to quiet those thoughts. As I prayed, I believed that even God wouldn’t like me because perfect, didn’t set a good enough example for my siblings, wrecked my parents’ marriage and caused my mother’s drinking. For 38 years, I was in a prison with my parents as the guards. I tried hard to develop my spiritual life. I read the Bible, read spiritual books, prayed a lot. I wanted to get it, but I didn’t. I was consumed by the sordid secrets that plagued my pas. I lived in shame that someone would find out, and if they did, they would hate me.

I was at the point of despair and was considering getting medication for my depression. Then a car accident changed my whole life. I was rear-ended by a 17-year old girl. My neck was a mess, and physical theraphy didn’t help. Both my hands became numb. The doctors talked about surgery. I was scared; I knew many people who’d had bad experiences with spinal surgery. I had to be in good shape to care for my kids.

I was sharing this story with a priest friend, and he mentioned an upcoming healing Mass in a neighbouring town. The visiting priest, he said, was blessed with the gift of healing, and many miracles have been attributed to him. I was interested but skeptical.

I decided to go and to leave it all in God’s hands. That was a first. I had run the show before;but know I was leaving it upto God. That night, the Church was full to overflowing. I followed along through the Rosary and the Mass. But when I saw people going forward to be blessed, I wanted to run out the back door. Chills ran down my back as I saw people falling to the floor after the blessing, people getting up out of their wheel chairs, and others crying as they were being healed from some hidden pain. I wondered what would happen to me. It was our turn to approach the alter. The priest blessed both Allan and me, and we both fell to the floor. I tried to get up, but I couldn’t. my heart started beating wildly, and I felt a warmth travel from my head to my feet. I was exhilarated with a new sensation: love. I felt love from the Holy Spirit, and the feelings of worthlessness vanished.

When we finally were able to sit up, Alan and I both giggled like a small children.

That evening allowed me to sleep, but I wasn’t tired. I smelled roses-but no roses were near our home. I prayed, but instead of hearing my usual empty words, I knew peace, tranquility and love.

The next day, my neck no longer hurt, and I had full movement of my head. A day later, the numbness was gone from my hands. The doctors and physical therapists were astounded at the change and called it a miracle. It was a miracle, but the physical change was not the miracle I cared for. For the first time in my life, I knew that God loved me. I didn’t have to prove anything to Him. He just loved me because I was me.  My entire outlook has changed. I lost 74 pounds without even trying. God took that void that I had filled with food and filled it with himself. My prayer life grew richer. The Bible that I read so many times became meaningful.

Every morning now, I wake with anticipation of what God has in store. The healing process is far from complete, and in the pain is still sometimes intense. Yet I no longer give in to self-loathing when the dreadful memories return. Instead, I find a quiet place, get on my knees and open my hands to God. I let go of the tight grip of control, and I tell Him that I am nothing without Him and that He alone can take this away.

In those most distressing times, I feel God’s love the most. I feel God’s compassionate arms giving me the hug that I needed from my father. I hear Him telling me that He will always love me and will never leave me. God has also given me the ability to forgive my parents. While I cannot excuse their behavior, I can understand it. This dysfunction did not begin with them; they learned it from their parents. They were needy children trapped in the bodies of adults and produced five needy children of their own. They loved us the only way they could.

With forgiveness came tears. After the tears came gratitude-gratitude to God and to my friends who helped me to this point.

I am not the same I was before. The old me has died and a new me is being formed in the image God wants-quirks and all. God is working on me all the time. I still hear a voice inside my heart, but this time it is a gentle, loving voice:” I love you….I am always here….I will never leave you.”

(Karen Hill is a Pseuydonym. The author has changed all names of people in her story.)

“HOLY SPIRIT WE SUBMIT OUR LIVES TO YOUR GUIDANCE LIVE IN US AND SPEAK THROUGH US THE WONDERS OF GOD’S LOVE.” AMEN.

Note: This article is from the New Covenant dated September 1999. This is a kind request please, after reading kindly forward or take copies and give to your friends, who maybe passing through such situations. You never know, How, When, and where you can save a soul and bring healing into this hurt world, or hatred and revenge. Amen.

 

THE BAPTISM OF THE HOLY SPIRIT By Antony Lobo  

An Ongoing Encounter

While the Catholic Charismatic Renewal is a very much part of the Church today, what is it that distinguishes it from the rest of the Church? What is it that makes it stand out, like a highlighter pen does certain texts in the scriptures, from the rest of the Church? (And by this we by no means are attempting to say that we in the Catholic Charismatic Renewal are better or holier or more spiritual than others?) it is a greater awareness of the presence, the power and the importance of the third person in the Holy Trinity, the Holy Spirit of God. It is an awareness that the Spirit of God is a person, just like the Father and the Son is. He is no longer merely a bird that flutters around and somehow brings us peace. He is no longer merely a symbol of fire, water and oil. He remains no longer as “the forgotten person of the Holy Trinity” as described by one of our Popes. He is God, fully and wholly. He is divine and has a magnificent role to play in our salvation and that of the world.

This awareness causes us to open ourselves to this power, to yield to this power, to work and co-operate with this power. This opening of ourselves to the Spirit, this yielding of ourselves to the Spirit of God, results in what is commonly known as the BAPTISM OF THE HOLY SPIRIT. The Baptism of the Holy Spirit is the very foundation upon which the Charismatic Renewal is based.Without it, there is no renewal.

There would be no gifts of the Spirit, no ministry, no outreach, no healing, no evangelization, no interest in study of the Word, no intercession, no praise and worship, no prayer meetings, the way we know it; just the same sedate Christianity which generally existed, before the Spirit overshadowed the Indian Church in 1971.

The word Baptism means to cleanse, to purify. The Church has over the centuries “Baptized” pagan feasts such as Christmas and Easter, cleansing them of pagan meanings and rituals; making them Christian feasts with a new meaning and purpose. At the Sacrament you are “Baptized” i.e. cleansed and purified from original sin and made new, a temple of the Holy Spirit. Similarly through the Baptism of the Holy Spirit, we are tried, used, purified, cleansed, shaped, and transformed into other Christs.

To be Baptized in the Holy spirit means to be immersed, soaked, sponged into the Spirit of Jesus. It means that every fibre of our being, every facet of our lives must be touched, influenced and controlled by the Spirit. Our mind-thought patterns, attitudes, reasoning; our heart-feelings, relationships, service, prayer; our bodies too; our conscience; our free will; even our sexuality; the Spirit flows through every part and aspect of our human life and makes us another Christ. It means “it is no longer I that liveth but Christ the liveth in me”.

An Ongoing and Deepening Encounter

Here is where Charismatic and especially leaders must realize that this change and transformation is not a magical experience, a one-time thing. 







PRAISE GOD
BLESSED BE THE ONE WHO COMES IN THE NAME OF THE LORD