It’s been three years since my multitude of losses and through therapies, I have never wavered from my faith or my church.
I learned I needed spinal surgery and neck surgery. They were going to perform both procedures at the same time. The surgeries went well and I was discharged home within two days. I had to lay flat, could not twist or bend and limited walking. My husband’s boss rescinded his vacation and there I was, laying in bed all day, alone (except for Schnookies) for ten hours. My daughter came when she could but since we thought my husband would be home, she did not request off of work. I was angry with my husband for not making me a priority. He followed the protocol of the vacation request and was approved, I think his boss did it for spite. So, I had a box of Cheerios and a couple of bottles of water bedside, watched the same DVD all day and felt a deep sense of loneliness that I had never, ever felt. For the week I was in bed, no cards came, my sister called once (and in that call telling me she would come but she is allergic to cats, as if I didn’t know that), friends didn’t check in on me and the most hurtful thing was, my church abandoned me. I had called the rectory requesting communion and explained my situation. Gave them my address, I was transferred to the pastor (new pastor at that who really didn’t know me). He said I lived too far (twenty minutes) and I should call the parish closest to me. I reminded him I am a parishioner of that church and had been for over twenty years, am an Eucharistic Minister, sang in the choir and was a cantor for many of those twenty years and am now asking the church for home communion. He refused. REFUSED TO GIVE ONE OF HIS FLOCK THE BODY OF CHRIST. That led to my leaving the Catholic Church.
I can not tell you how devastated I felt. How empty I felt. How unimportant and insignificant I felt. And the one person I wanted wasn’t here.All the work I did. All the progress I made seemed for nought. I was heartbroken. Once again, Schnookies was there. Somehow she reminded me of how far I’d come. It was a painful jolt of how fragile healing can be. Logically I knew my anger wasn’t going to help my body heal from surgery, nor would it help my blood pressure any. I did some deep breathing to at least calm down over the initial shock of being refused. It was early in the morning which meant I had nine hours alone to figure the rest out. I remember telling myself to refocus my energies to be more gentle with myself. That I did nothing wrong. And the more I refocused, the more I was able to bring a calming energy to myself. Enough that I fell asleep until my husband came home. I chose not to tell him what happened for a couple of reasons. 1. He is not Catholic, hasn’t been to church since he was a kid and most certainly wouldn’t understand, and 2. It took too long for me to calm myself and I didn’t want to get my gander up again.
Besides, I was the only one who could heal me. No one deeply feels my pain or loss or abandonment or emotion the way I do.And I surmise that to be true of all of us. It’s not a bad thing, it's just a real thing and understanding that saves me a world of pain.
Next week: Losing My Beloved Schnookies
Until Next Time…
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