Friday, Mom and Monkey went out shopping and I stayed home to start on my homework. I was at the computer printing out tables for my Society and Population class when Dad sat down. He handed me the mail package that Sr. Rita had sent 2 weeks ago. She had accidentally put the “Adorers Blood of Christ Vocation Office” mail address sticker on it. I had to convince Dad that it was not a vocation packet, but an appitude test that would tell me about my strenghts and weaknesses, which it does. Dad said I was “lucky” that he picked up the mail the day that the package had arrived and not mom. He said that “a vocation would be a very bad idea.”
I thought that was going to be all I had to be afraid of for the weekend. It wasn’t, on Friday I was also told that we (monkey, mom, and I) were going to take Gramma shopping so we could find a coat to purchase for her and package as a Christmas gift for her. What a rouse! We went instead, on Sunday, to the Santero for a supposed half-hour. That half-hour was a whopping 5 hours.
First I had to wear a white skirt ( I don’t know why) and knock on a door three times, state my full name, say that I was coming for orula and why (peace, happiness, longevity, health, and everything else that my family wants). I had to repeat that three times. Then I had to sit in a chair and one of the three santeros present shook a handful of seeds about the size of ku-kui nuts in his hand ending up with 2 or 1 (2 was marked in the sand of shallow pan as 1, and 1 was marked as 2). The pan was wood and carved into the x axis of it was a cross, the other side a skull; on the y axis a sun, the other end a moon. They spent about 3 to 4 hours with me doing that. They said it was a “horoscope for the lifespan,” and they recorded my name and my horoscope in a book. I was supposed to shake a rock and a shell in my hands and “divine” which set of marks in the pan from the seeds was true. It was fun, I switched off: one time it was the rock, the next time the shell, then the rock. Back and forth, back and forth. All the while I did not mentally ask the “gods” for anything, but instead prayed over and over. The more I prayed, the less things made sense to the santeros. Finally they were done, and had gone through the process 3 times, each one making less sense than the next.
Secondly, the things that were “divined” were all negative (Satan can only predict what he will do, not God, for God’s will is only known to God and those who discern). Recall, C.S. Lewis’ Screwtape Letters where it is said that the Father Below views all the Father in Heaven does as negative and bad? I was repeatedly told all the bad things that would happen in my life, and that I had a very negative presence in my room — of course Satan would view the presence of Our Lord and Savior as negative — He’s quite the opposite of what the Devil wants! That made me happy.
Monkey’s process only took about an hour in comparison; furthermore the santero said that she should get involved in their “religion.” The only reason Santeria is considered a religion is because the U.S. Supreme Court deemed it as such when a santero was prosecuted for animal cruelty — live animal sacrifices. Then we were brought back to the room together, to kiss and praise the objects of elegua, the main “god” and objects that “housed” the 2 other gods. I could not say no, Mom was watching. Then I was given a bracelet and necklace of green and yellow beads that was meant to keep me “safe” from evil. I will not wear such a thing. In fact, while I did not outright say “I denounce this,” I did walk straight to mom while she was wrapping up the bead necklaces, took off the bracelet and necklace and refused to wear it. I told her “no.” It felt good, but I knew it would cause trouble.
I told mom that I have my religion, she has hers. “I do not drag you into my different activities on-campus (i.e., the Catholic Center, InterVarsity Christian Fellowship), please do not involve me in yours. That is your religion, this is mine. Please do not involve me ever again. I did not like that at all.” That is verbatim. Mom had the nerve to ask why I was upset. She said that this “religion” was “true” and that it was the “only one that really worked.” Furthermore, she said “it is not pagan, it is not counter to Christianity; it has saints and a god.” Sound familiar to anyone? But the fun does not stop there: she said the Roman Catholic Church was a cult. (I’m not joking). The woman who has no idea what in Blazing Hell a cult is, called the Church a cult. I screamed at her: “that’s 1.1 Billion people!! Go to St. John Fisher this evening, walk to the pulpit and tell everyone in the pews that they are a cult. Go on, tell them!!” She didn’t like that. Then she attacked me for making Aaron’s quilt. [Sorry. I need to explain the purpose of that quilt here for Xanga: I need to thank a lot of people here online for helping me after the cult. After I left, I found Mike and Aaron online, the two of you in addition to other people here on Xanga helped me immensely. Meanwhile, my own father said “so what. Just get your grades back up” when I had told him that I’d left a cult. My family was not there for me, but the majority of you were. Therefore the quilt is both congratulatory for your impending ordination as a priest, and the only way I have of thanking anyone.] So mom, in the JCPenny parking lot by that time, said the quilt was sacrilege and an affair.
She throws every barb at me. One of these days she will say something so hurtful I won’t come back to her. I am not a boomerang. She will one day push me so far away I will never return. Then, she will do it to Monkey; I don’t think Monkey is a boomerang either. Anyway, she eventually calmed down. I have taken all vocation materials out of my room and carry them now in my backpack daily. I want to find time this week to go talk to Fr. Lawrence about this; I have to talk about it. It’s getting very difficult to discern at home, especially when I increasingly seem to be the only Catholic at home. I am the only Catholic, and I am the only practicing Catholic at home. I am taking a lot of heat.
God rewarded me with rain this morning (I LOVE the rain) and a gorgeous sunset last night. But I did yell at Him when I had some alone time in the car last night. I had to drive to Long’s Drug store and make some photocopies for a homework packet. I said that He’s got to help me out a lot here at home because if His people endure these kind of things, no wonder He’s got so few things — just like ..um.. St. Terese Avila, right?
There was a point where all of yesterday was so funny, to seal the ritual, we were supposed to stand on our left foot and hop around in a circle counter-clockwise. I wanted to laugh out loud, but that’s when Monkey threw up on an empty stomach.
I was finally happy last night, well, maybe less fearful as everyone went to bed. I stayed up to finish homework, and clear vocation materials from my room into my backpack. Before my shower, as I turned on the faucet to heat the water, I realized how dependent on God I am; how I choose to be dependent, and that is the problem with people: they never want to be dependent. I am controlling personality, but less so when I am with God.