One night at Terry’s house, while the group was praying, the phone rang. The caller was an Episcopal priest, who knew she hosted a Prayer Meeting. One of the young men in the Priest’s teen group was thought to have overdosed and they couldn’t find him. Terry related the prayer request, and we prayed. Just then, a thought entered my mind … where could he be. Immediately a memory of a long line of poplar trees I had seen on a trip to Niagara Falls came to my mind. I was startled and left the room. I sat in the den, trying to make sense of it all. After all, I had silently asked, “Where could he be?” A few minutes later, Terry joined me asking if I was okay. I related my experience to her. She responded that it was totally my choice to tell the group or not. I thought to myself, “I’ll never know if I don’t tell.” So, I rejoined the group that was still praying. When it was quiet, I shared my experience. Some of the men urged the group to keep praying. Then, one man shared that he saw in his mind, a church. Another man shared that he saw a graveyard next to a church. That was it. Terry quickly phoned the Episcopal priest and told him.
Two weeks later, I attended the prayer meeting at Terry’s house. She and her husband were so excited to see me at the door. They told me that the priest who phoned for prayer knew the location we described but didn’t check any further that night. However, they found this young man the next morning and asked where he had been the night before. He related the place with the exact description we gave. I was amazed. It was just another learning experience for me.
The Charismatic Prayer Meetings continued to draw more and more people. Because more space was needed, the leaders, all parishioners, obtained permission to meet at our Church’s gym on Friday nights. The prayer meetings grew in number. Sometimes I would receive a “word from God” which I, in faith, would share with the group. Once, someone shared a word speaking in ‘tongues.’ I declined to interpret the words that came to my mind. Scripture instructs that an interpretation should follow. I didn’t feel worthy of doing that. At that point, a man, at the other side of the large hall, shared the very same words! I don’t remember the words, but for me it was a lesson to trust God more. I also would occasionally receive a word from the Holy Spirit that a healing was occurring at the prayer meeting. I knew what was being healed, but not the person. Once after a large prayer meeting, a person requested prayer. I joined the small group that encircled that person. As we prayed, I shared that I believed someone was receiving a healing at that moment. A young woman exclaimed that it was her. Her finger was healed. In my mind, I thought, “Such a little thing.” Immediately, I felt a correction from the Holy Spirit. The words in my mind were, “Don’t ever belittle what I do.” I never did again.
After a few months, I wanted to make sure that this was all okay. So, I requested an appointment with our Bishop at the time, Bishop Pernicone in Poughkeepsie, NY. On the day of the appointment, my husband told me I had to kiss the Bishop’s ring. I had never met a Bishop other than at my Confirmation. When I met him and tried to kiss his ring, he told me, “We’ll have none of that” and he invited me to sit. I related my concern as to what was happening in my life. I thought I was being called to be a missionary. How could I do that with four children? The Bishop assured me that what I was experiencing was good. He also told me that he was familiar with prayer group and had attended a few times.
Sometime later at a prayer meeting, I met another Oblate of Mary Immaculate priest, Father Bagen. He knew the priest who directed me to my first prayer meeting. After a while, I asked him if he would be my spiritual director. I would never do something that God didn’t want for me and felt that I needed someone to tell me if I was on the right path, spiritually. I didn’t know when I asked that he was the Rector of the Seminary, but he still agreed to be my Spiritual Director. As God continued to give me a “Prophecy” or “Word of Knowledge”, Father Bagen would make sure I was balanced and helped me to grow. With my family growing in number, we did not meet often, but he would guide me through everything I had experienced. Sometime later he was transferred to Florida. Just about that time, a new pastor was assigned to our church. He allowed the Prayer Group to continue in the School gym. By now, there were about 200 – 300 people attending the Prayer Meeting. The ‘Praise and Worship’ was wonderful. Three of the four leaders were also members of Cursillo. One of the leaders, knowledgeable in Canon Law, was especially well accepted by the priests of the parish, though they never personally attended.
During that time, one of the ladies from the Prayer Group
invited me to attend a ‘healing service’ in Albany, New York. Six women from our area attended. It was held in a Protestant Church and the
speaker was a woman from Florida. After
the service my friend, Pat, introduced me to a woman from our area, who
attended the service to pray for a healing for her young son. Later that week, while I was ironing, the
Lord reminded me of that woman. He told
me (in my mind) that if I would pray for the child, He would heal him. I again, was taken aback, so I immediately
phoned Pat, who took me to the healing service in Albany. She said the child’s father was an atheist,
so she would pray about it. She had been
in the Prayer Group community for a few years, so I trusted in her and went on
with my family responsibilities. A few
days later, Pat phoned and told me that the child’s father would approve of our
praying with the child, if we didn’t scare him. Shortly thereafter, Pat and I visited their
home with my two little ones in tow.
Only then, did I find out that her child had Cerebral Palsy. That daunted me. I probably would never have stepped out if I
knew that. We drank coffee and talked
while the children played. We agreed to
lay hands on the child’s mother and pray while she put her hands on the child’s
shoulders, as they ate their snacks. Nothing
happened that day or any day, for four months.
I was very discouraged. I had
stepped out because I believed that God told me to do something. Then, one night at a Friday night Prayer
Meeting, the mother rushed over to me.
She had just returned from the child’s specialist in New York City. The mother told me that this doctor had tears
in his eyes, as he told her to take off the child’s braces. It was about seven years later, at a Vacation
Bible School, that I saw the child again. He looked like just like any other
teenager.
(To be continued)
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