Unusual Happenings via the Charismatic Catholics...a wild ride, indeed

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.

At Last~! The Catholic Church~!

CHAPTER SEVEN
I moved from Salina, Kansas to a little town called Peabody...where I would be teaching elementary through high school music. Peabody was sort of a limbo place... It was OK. My daughter's kindergarten teacher's name was Alice Cooper... just like the rock band. I liked the other teachers. A memorable experience was the band teacher -- Bob -- baked some marijuana brownies and took them to the teacher's lounge. It was the only day the crabby librarian ever loosened up and laughed and smiled. That probably was the closest to a 'religious' experience' I observed in that little town. I met a lady there who became a good friend..Her name was Joyce and it was through her that I heard about another little Kansas town which was fairly close to the Nebraska line. Miltonvale. The was a huge pivotal point in my life. I applied for a music teaching position there and got it.
Miltonvale, Kansas was the closest we ever came to claiming a 'home town' even though we were only there for three years. Those were very interesting years...and~! It had a Catholic Church! At last I would be really 'saved.' The religious journey I had been on finally had an 'end' of sorts in sight.
I liked nearly all the people in that little town...of about 1200 people. I especially liked the people in that Catholic church. The first Sunday I attended mass was sort of weird. There is a lot of kneeling, getting up and down, much ritual, etc... but I played along, enjoying myself. I spoke to the local priest who was incredibly nice and handsome -- and with whom I would have loved to have had a "Thorn Birds" relationship with.
He was delighted that I was a music teacher. Later on I became the church's organist. The organists in Catholics churches are usually 'hidden'... and with this church the organ was very atypically located in the balcony in the back. No one else sat in the balcony...except during weddings or funerals.
I made it known that I wanted to become a Catholic. Instead of Father Dan giving me instructions in Catechism... I was to receive several sessions of teaching from Monsignor LeMoine. My god, the man was weird. It was like he was constantly on stage. My first encounter with him was in his office in Concordia... He was wearing the tight fitting black robe with red edging and the little black hat that looks like those Russian winter fur hats...like the Jackie Kennedy pill box hat...kinda... He introduced himself to me...and then started pacing back and forth in front of me...quite furiously...the finger of one hand pointed against his cheek. He turned his back to me momentarily, then whirled around...swish!...and pointed that same finger towards me and rather loudly said: "What if I told you that God had no face!".... He screwed up his expression, waiting for my answer...I mumbled something like "Well, that's OK"... I don't think he was overly impressed. Basically, I remember nothing of what the man said. Most of it was theological drivel which simply was not impressing me at all.
Several weeks later, I with several other adults, were 'confirmed' in the Catholic church in Miltonvale. Finally. I was officially a Catholic. A member of the "one true church"... according to the dogma. I was "in."
It was kind of fun, actually... But it didn't seem as consistently mystical to me as I thought it would be. I thought I would feel more like the saintly, glowing nun in the movie "The Bells of St. Mary's"... but that didn't happen. But it was OK. I was more like I had been accepted into a pretigious sorority/fraternity of sorts. I had a sort of 'superior' attitude about religion now. But...that's what it was...religion...not spirituality.
I just couldn't get into praying to Mary or other saints. It was avoiding like The Head Honcho... and that, to me, wasn't exactly 'right.' After all, it was "god" I wanted to get in good with to assure my eventual entry into Heaven and avoid eternal damnation. The pictures painted by any of 'my churches' of heaven didn't exactly make it sound like a real fun, perpetual vacation spot. It sounded boring. Wearing white robes, carrying around a harp, walking the streets of gold and continuously singing praises to god didn't have much allure to it ... although it beat, if you pardon the expression, the hell out of the other place. Well. Anyway. Waddya gonna do.
I still felt something was missing.
Lori, who turned six years old, was now in the required Catholic catechism class... a sort of primer to the one that comes before Confirmation. Her's and Mike's Baptism into the Episcopal church was recognized as official by the Catholic church, as had my own Lutheran baptism.
The day that the little row of 6 year olds were to take the First Communion was quite memorable. None of the kids choked upon the taste of the wine, but Lori later remarked that the wafer had no taste to it. After the mass was over, pictures were taken. Lori stood beside her friend, Paulette Pacey, and each of the 5 children were holding 12" tall LIT candles. Paulette's candle lit Lori's white organdy veil on fire...which caused quite a stir for a few moments. Guess it was sort of like Lori's own personal baptism by fire.
Mike and Lori were both born old souls when it came to the religion thing...and nothing really 'took' as far as what I put them through. Thankfully.
I enjoyed everything about Miltonvale... the people, the job, the two cafes. I had absolutely great musical groups... It was probably the most creative of my teaching years. One high school group was made up of 8 students...an octet, made up of 4 boys and 4 girls... Not only did they sing well, but two played guitar, one a string bass, and another drums, when needed. We became fairly well known through several counties and were asked to perform for different organizations as well as churches. The one occasion which to me proved to be unforgettable took place in a neighboring town's Methodist church... We were seated (unfortunately) in two of the front pews where we were very much on display. On the altar of this little church was a carved wooden statue of the head of Jesus. It looked just exactly like Chuck Connors of the TV show "The Rifleman" ... I used poor judgment in whispering this to Mary Trahan, one of my singers...who thought it was too funny to 'keep'...and the word began to spread. Within a couple of minutes, the whole group know of my observation. Then. They all got the giggles (albeit silent ones)...and it was awful...People were staring both curiously and indignantly.
I was torn between knowing I needed to discipline them and knowing I was the one who had started the whole mess. Thankfully, the minister cracked a slightly funny joke during his sermon to which my group burst into laughter... No one was more shocked than the minister. It was a 'good escape' route for that pent up stifled laughter, however. I was never able to see a picture of Chuck Connors after that without thinking of that statue in the church.
I can't remember how I came across these people who were into 'the charismatic movement' of the Catholic church....but it was a 'vibrational match' that was meant to take place. That I know.
They came to visit me in my home one evening and asked me if I would like to attend this special conference of Charismatic Catholics that was to be held in Scotts Bluff, Nebraska. They told me of all kinds of miracles that took place during their 'meetings' which sounded as lively as any black church I had ever attended. Sure. Why not. They promised me it would something I would never forget. I didn't. Neither did Lori and Mike.