Past contention
DREAM: I was at a large family gathering. My cousins were questioning different family members: “Now who are you?” “What is your name?” “Which family do you belong to?” As they were asking these questions, different nieces and nephews came forward. I felt an itch in my lower back and scratched off a small scab. I looked over my shoulder and saw my son. He looked at me and smiled and I said, oh, my sweet son.
REFLECTION: Today, I can remember this experience without a hurt heart. (The itch and the small scab that I scratched off my lower back).
My extended family, aunts, uncles, and cousins hosted monthly rosary parties. The parties began because the son of a cousin was diagnosed with a life-threatening cancer. Another cousin suggested that we have rosary parties to pray for healing. All the family was on board and we met monthly to pray the rosary. I think it was Thanksgiving 1998 when our Lord asked me to let the family know that he had heard our prayers and that my cousin’s son would be miraculously healed. The extended family was gathered for Thanksgiving if I remember correctly. If only you could imagine the burden I felt, having to deliver a message from God. I was very scared, but I delivered our Lord’s message and told my family that our Lord asked that we become an “army of prayer.” I did not do a good job. I was a failure. What a mess! The rosary parties stopped altogether.
After that disastrous Thanksgiving, there were a couple times over the months that I was inspired to contact my cousin and his wife. One of those times, Our Lord told me to lay hands on their son. I could not bring myself to do that, but I did pray the Our Father with him while we held hands. At one point I let them know, by letter, that I had had a spiritual experience where I gave them a piece of my heart as a spiritual donation to help them get through this horrible dark night. I was told by my brother that my cousins said it was uncanny the timing of any of my contacts with them. They were at some most desperate times and my contact gave hope and encouragement. Their son went through a very dangerous surgery and he was healed.
When my cousins were considering the option of surgery, my mom told me that a family member claimed that I said they should not resort to surgery for their son. That was a lie. I said to my mom: Who am I to say how his miraculous cure will be? Do we not consider medicine a miracle? I do.
Some of my family decided that I am mentally ill. They brought me to a priest who sent me to a psychiatrist for psychological evaluation. I came up as “quite healthy.” But that was not good enough to make them change their minds. Sobeit.
As the saying goes, there are bonds of blood and bonds of love. I am grateful to have the bond of love with my husband and my children and their families and other spiritual friends, who value my dreams and my input, and have benefited greatly from them (my sweet son who smiled at me in the dream).