The Charismatic movement of the Catholic church started in Great Bend, Indiana in 1967. Not so unusual...after all, it was the '60's... and many of the old institutions were challenged.
My children and I were still living in Miltonvale, Kansas and remained active members of the Catholic church, when much to my surprise I received a visit from this very nice couple saying they wanted to speak to me about a new movement going on within the church. At their gatherings, miracles were happening. There were reports of people being raised from the dead. A group of nuns from Concordia were even involved. I thought ....hmmmm....veddy interesting.
I attended a small gathering composed of about a dozen or so 'maverick' Catholics... all nice people and rather emotional during their prayers when they were embodied by the 'holy spirit.' They was to be a large convention (this was in 1972) in Scotts Bluff, Nebraska...would I like to go? Sure. Why not. It was a bit like joining a secret cult. I was always welcomed adventure... especially if it defied the establishment.
I wish I could remember the names of the newly married priest-nun couple that were in charge of this convention. They were very nice people. Excellent speakers. Not the Benny Hine type...more subdued than that...thankfully, but so inspirational. Maybe this would revive my enthusiasm for this religion. We stayed in a dormitory on some small college campus. There were workshops in the daytime and the 'big event' was in the evenings.
The word "charisma" is derived from the Greek meaning 'gifts of the Spirit'.... healing, speaking in tongues, casting out evil spirits, etc... The premise of the charismatic movement was based on the thinking that IF you were truly filled with the Holy Spirit...you could do anything ... including transcending the physical -- levitating, etc...
Some were able to receive these gifts. The energy was so strong during the evening events that weird was the norm!. People would start speaking languages that were previously unlearned by them. As for me, my one spirit filled accomplishment was being able to sing the scale... not the usual Gregorian scale...which is done in half-steps...like from a C to a C#, etc... but I was able to sing a Japanese quarter tone scales....I was so impressed with myself! I performed this for several people who were also impressed. My gift didn't last long before it just vanished. But it was fun at the time.
The guest-speaker priest also performed exorcisms, and as it turns out...yes, I was a good candidate for this! I did undergo some strange happenings during this exorcisms: including: saliva just running out of my mouth, seeing a creche (Christ crib) with brilliant white light emitting from it, a vision of the Virgin Mary who reached for me and held me to her... Yes, this DID all happen. This type of phenomena ... happens when the belief is strong enough and you attain certain vibrational levels in which you can instantly manifest or create. Probably somewhat like being on a good trip of LSD. This is scientifically proven... What gets spooky is when people strongly believe in the devil or evil spirits -- they CREATE them into a state of possession-- which makes exorcism 'necessary.' Its all in the belief.
Coincidently, the movie The Exorcist was released shortly after the convention was over... people from all over the country were suddenly possessed. Even Southern Baptists turned to Catholic priests for exorcism! Ah...the power of the mind. That's what it is all about... Belief: creation: manifestation. Creating your own reality in a somewhat out-of-control way.
I mostly enjoyed the convention but I didn't really feel like I fit in with that crowd. Once again I had the feeling of being an 'outsider.' That was very depressing.
I saw the movie "The Exorcist" along with Mrs. Beasely, the local highschool's English teacher (who was an alcoholic)...and Betty Sharp, the school's secretary. Mrs. Beasely talked so much during the movie that angry patrons moved away from us as far as possible...There was no way the movie had a chance of scaring me with her persistant yakking... Probably a good thing.
What did scare me, however, happened several nights later, I woke to the sound of some unusual stirrings. Lori --then 8 years old, had gotten somehow behind my bed...had her arms straight out, point between the bars of the headboard...making strange noises...but sound asleep. Naturally I had to 'cast demons' out of her. I found myself 'being aware of' demons'...and doing an awful lot of casting out. That got really wearisome after awhile.
Father Sheetz was angry with me for attending the Charismatic Conference. He told me that if I was having "a dark night of the soul" I should have come to HIM for counseling! That sort of put a wet blanket on our attraction for each other, although, nothing had ever come of that attraction. After he moved to Manhatten, we wrote a couple of times, and at one point I received a letter from him saying that it would probably be for the best if we severed all contact. I agreed. My ego smarted ...but...I totally agreed. So much for the Miltonvale Thorn Birds... sigh...
My children and I lived in Miltonvale for three years. We still regard it as our main 'home town' ...
The gypsy gene has always been in my blood... we, of course, moved again. Lori loved it. Mike would have loved to have stayed in Miltonvale forever.
I received an offer for a music teaching job in Oshkosh, Nebraska. The job there was OK... I honestly can't remember much about it ... which is weird because I have outstanding memories from all my other schools. The Catholic church masses in Oshkosh were very dull and uneventful. The only thing my kids and I remembered was "Funny Baby" ... this darling baby we liked to sit close to because this baby would make the most hysterically funny faces. That more or less perked up the otherwise very Sunday mornings for us.
Slowly but surely I was getting bored and disillusioned with the Catholic church and was starting to undergo some really very serious soul struggles. Very. My mass attendance started slacking off m and my anger at -- and fear of -- "god" once again grew to overwhelming proportions. All I knew was that the church that I thought was "THE" answer to all of my religious challenges and problems wasn't serving me well at all. Seems like I was always going back to square one.
I felt so horrible so often. So lost and hopeless. I remember one particular day which proved to be a pivotal point in my search and struggle. I drove to the Oshkosh gradeschool bldg on a Saturday morning to do some research on a project for the 7th and 8th graders... Standing in that building's library, I just seemed to suddenly snap. (good thing I was the only one in the building) ... I banged the books down on the library table, looked 'upward' and screamed at god that I would rather burn in hell than ever believe in him again!! Although my 'stand' was somewhat freeing... it would be years before I could say I truly ridded myself of the horrible god concept I was raised with. Actually, the scar remains.
How I came across the book "Autobiography of a Yogi" by Parahansa Yogananda ... I honestly can't remember. But it definately had a very positive effect on my life.
Another event that was to influence the lives of my children and family was meeting Sara Lynn . She was a waitress at a local cafe... such a nice person. She had weekend visitation rights with her little girl, Judy, who lived with her father in Denver (Westminister). Several times we would drive along to Denver with Sara Lynn to pick up Judy for the weekend, and drive back to Denver to return her on Sunday evenings.
I loved Denver! I was SO impressed the first time I rode down Colorado Blvd...at night. Broadway in New York could not have been more glitzy and grand! This was in 1975. You have to remember, I was from Kansas.
My children and I had also become acquainted with the Millers....a great family. The oldest son, John, was a hippie... they weren't religious at all... they had an adopted Indian daughter named Patty who w as personable but a weirdo...she lied a lot. And then there was Rex, the 8th grader.
There were three students I would never forget. All 8th graders. My favorites. All cigarette smoking rebels... Richard was an extreme genius...the son of the local vet; Rex, the Millers' son, intelligent and personable...and then there was Misty... Oh dear... what Misty lacked in the field of scholarhip, she made up for in sweetness... and a bit of ditziness. Those three, thought for themselves, in a way I never would have dared to do when I was their age.
I decided to move to Denver! The Millers helped us move. We found a one bedroom apt in the 300 block of South Pennsylvania. Myself. Lori, then 9, and Mike, then 6, and the sweet but goofy dog we called Teddy Bear.
My movement towards freedom and enlightentment would soon gain momentum... and oh, what a time we had.
