Scattering The Pieces

CHAPTER 13 Hope in the Midst of Trouble My parents were good friends with my cousin Tony and his wife Mary. Tony was one of my dad's nephews who was actually a few years older than him. Sometimes we would spend holidays with them and their three sons. One night in 1973 Tony called and talked to my dad. He said that he and Mary wanted to come over to our house and had something they wanted to share with both my parents. He didn't give any indication of what it might be, so immediately mom and dad thought it was about a pyramid sales scheme like Amway or selling vacuum cleaners. They didn't seem thrilled and were a little suspicious but said OK because they were family. When they came to the house, us kids disappeared into the kitchen or wherever we could go to give them privacy. I overheard some of what they were saying. It was about God and being born again. Even though they were Catholic they spoke of spending time at a home prayer meeting. I had never heard of such a thing. Why would they want to do that? They also started to attend a Protestant church, the Tabernacle in Orchard Park, N.Y., about 20 minutes from our home. I thought they had crossed the line, that would be a mortal sin. Weren't they up on Catholic rules? I didn't catch it all or understand, but what I did notice was that Mary, who was usually anxious, high-strung and nervous, seemed to be much at peace. There was no denying that. After they left, mom and dad didn't say much about the visit, but it was not what any of us expected the meeting to be. We continued to go on with our lives as usual. It was during the following weeks that mom was having some serious mental and emotional issues. She had debilitating panic attacks and couldn't even sit in a chair long enough to get her hair cut at a beauty salon. I drove her to those appointments, and my heart broke for her because of her embarrassment when she would have to get up to leave. I don't even think panic attack was a term widely used then, so it was difficult for both of us to understand what was happening to her or put a name to it. She cried a lot at home and suffered with anxiety and depression. Her doctor had put her on anti-anxiety medications as well as anti-depressants. She didn't like the way they made her feel, and she complained that the meds made her tongue feel thick. So, she stopped taking them. In the following weeks after my cousin Tony's visit, mom's mental state had gotten even worse. We were sure she had a total breakdown. My dad was so distraught, and unsure of how to act. He came to me one night while I was in the kitchen washing the evening dishes, visibly shaken. This was the second time I saw my father cry, like when his sister Rosie died. I needed him to be strong and have courage and have the answers for us children. He didn't know what to do and asked me what I thought and if we should have mom committed. Knowing he was relying on me for some sort of direction scared me. He was my father, if he didn't know what direction to take, how would I have any answers? I didn't like seeing him so vulnerable, it made me feel insecure and incapable of taking the lead in this situation. I knew I didn't want to see my mother hospitalized. So, I suggested that he call Tony and Mary for help. I remember telling dad that they seemed to have some answers and what did we have to lose? And I pointed out how peaceful Mary was. My father was a proud Catholic and member of the Knights of Columbus, but after he had exhausted all hope, he decided to take my advice, and stepped out into the unknown. After some convincing, he called them. The following evening was a Saturday, and I was working the dinner shift at the pizza restaurant. That evening, both mom and dad and my sister Lorie attended a home Bible study/prayer meeting at the home of the DiSarno family in West Seneca. I really wanted to go and see what it was all about. The next morning my mother and sister were so excited! They said they had "accepted the Lord" and went on to tell me about how they had prayed and given their lives to the Lord. I felt left out and tried to act cool about it because I had been searching for spiritual fulfillment for such a long time. They were going to the evening service that night at the Tabernacle, and I knew if I didn't go with them, it would be too difficult to catch up with their experience. I was curious and a little scared because I had never been in a Protestant church. But I decided to go anyway. When we walked in there was an unusual calm that permeated the building. There were no statues, crucifixes or candles like I was used to seeing in my church, just an empty cross. Prayer, singing and worship opened the service and went on for about 45 minutes. I couldn't put into words what I felt inside. The atmosphere became increasingly electric. People were raising their arms while they were singing. I had never seen anything like that before. Another person near me continued to raise her arms even when the music stopped. People were praising God out loud. I didn't understand, but I knew these people were different and they had something I needed. The peace in the room became palpable. Something in my heart started to well up. Suddenly my eyes were full of tears, and I felt the presence of the Holy Spirit so strongly. At that moment I knew I had experienced what my mom and sister had experienced the night before. It was like I was washed with warm oil inside of me. It was the presence of the Holy Spirit. It was what my heart longed for and what I had been searching for since my 1st Communion. God was real! He wasn't a character in an old book that couldn't relate to us today, he was alive, and He knew me!