My time-traveling journey is almost complete. This is Part 3. I'm thinking there is only going to be 4 parts. It was a big trip to Indiana, and like I said, lots happened. If you missed Part 2, you can read it HERE. If you missed Part 1, there is a link to it from Part 2.
So I was saying, it was Sunday afternoon (the 20th) and we were going to leave that day. We (being my family and I) were all hanging out at the Proud House and enjoying each other's company when the Preacher Man walked in.
I was sitting on the couch and he walked in the back door. I could tell who it was right away. He had a loud voice and had a (what my mom would call) "home boy" way about him. My mom defines a "home boy" as a male who acts like he's from your home, or grew up with you. Brother would be my home boy by Mom's definition.
Anyway, judging by his voice and word choices, and the way everyone interacting with him and seeing him sounded, I estimated him to be a guy with one of those round bellies that hang over your belt a bit and not extremely tall. This man probably enjoys a beer every now and then and I wouldn't be surprised if he likes to play with cars. His head is probably bald right on top with hair on the back and near his ears, but not on his forehead. He wears good long lasting shoes and he eats a lot of left-overs. He is probably dressed kind of nice, seeing as he supposedly just came from church. He's definitely someone who gets excited, jolly like, and he has big hands made especially for engulfing the heads of children and helping ladies carry things.
That's all I'm able to get without seeing him.
I get up off the couch and go to meet him and say hi. He is here to see me after all, plus, I'm a polite kind of person.
I was pretty much right about how he looked, except he wasn't dressed as nice as I thought he would be. He had on a really old sweat-shirt that probably used to be black but the color faded so much it wasn't really anymore, and jeans. I didn't look at his shoes, that would show lack of confidence on my part, and his head was bald just like I thought. His hands were shaking mine and they were the large kind that swallow the heads of children and help ladies carry things, just as I had suspected.
He smiled and was happy to see me, excited and jolly, like I had guessed. My Dad, Mom, Grannee, and I exchanged pleasantries with him and before I knew it my Dad had pulled out a chair from the dining room table, faced it towards the Preacher Man, and I was sitting in it.
I was on the spot and it was time to pray.
I managed to glance beyond the Preacher Man to my Proud Aunt (or Proud Woman, as referred to earlier). She smiled at me and I couldn't figure out what kind of smile it was, and I still can't, but I think it helped me.
The Preacher Man started to talk. He talked very intensely. He was leaning down a bit so he was right in my face and his eyes were staring into mine as though he was trying to control my mind with them. I started back with what I hope/think were calm, relaxed, and even cool eyes.
The man was definitely still the excited Man I thought him to be, but if it weren't for the smile I would doubt the jolly-ness.
"So, you're sick. And you want to be healed don't you?" The Preacher Man says with his loud voice.
I knew you wouldn't understand. Everyone thinks I'm sick. I'm not sick! Ahhh! I'm just waiting for my T-Cells to grow and mature! There is no more 'sickness'. The day my new bone marrow took, all the sickness was gone. I am healed. I'm just waiting for T-Cell function, for God's time. I'm not sick. And I'm not in denial either! "No. I'm not sick anymore. I'm just waiting for my T-Cells to grow." I reply very calmly (and a little slowly) as though I am talking to a child. Usually when people show this amount of ignorance I lash out a full dose of Miss E.-ness and the person to whom I am talking to ends up learning a TON of new medical terminology, or they end up with a kind of "duh" expression... either way it usually results in laughs, but I was trying to be especially good.
Mom jumps in immediately after to explain the words I had just uttered. I am very thankful for this because it helps show that I am not intending to be a brat or be sassy.
"Oh." says the Preacher Man "But, you still have Leukemia." He states this but there is uncertainty in his eyes.
Now I feel sorry for the guy. I know there is no way he could understand because none of my family up there does, but you can tell he feels a bit left out, misinformed.
I gently shake my head as though not wanting to disappoint him and hear Mom echo me, "No, that's all gone now." Again thankful for her because I fear I might be getting a rather smug bratty shadow of a smile on my face, and I really DO NOT want to be a brat. Not to a holy man.
"Okay. Well somethings wrong with you! There's something inside of you." He tells me this while his mouth wears a slightly insane grin, his hands out to me, pleading. He is desperate.
I do not want to talk. I am determined to be very good. I look at the floor for a second, I was right about the shoes. Then Mom, always the hero, says, "Well, she is waiting for her T-Cells to grow."
"Well! We'll go with that then!" He says clapping his hands together, somewhat relieved.
That obstacle overcome, he tries to start again.
"So, that thing, what ever is inside of you. You want it to be gone right? You want to be healed." He expects me to confirm this, but I don't.
Instead, I smile and say, "I want what God wants for me." Which is 100% the truth. I've been there, I've done that. I've asked, 'Why can't I get better already?', 'I've been sick for so long.', 'I don't know how much more I can handle.', 'I want to feel good, I just want to go to school.' I've had really long tear-filled conversations with God on this topic and I know what I want now, and it isn't to get better. I don't want that if it isn't part of the plan for me. All I want is to follow the path and not to mess up. Like I said, I want to be good.
I hear Grannee's voice say, "Perfect answer." in my ear. So again, I am reassured that I am not being a brat. Which is good because I am so sure that everything I say is making me look more like one.
"Good!" Is what the Preacher Man says, "So you want to be healed!" Okay, that is not what I said, but he isn't going to wait for me to give him any cheek or pose any argument. He is just going to continue, and I am not going to interrupt. "And you believe that you are going to be healed?" Here he stops for my reply. However, Mom answers for me again. I think she somehow has a sense of the impression I am trying not to make and intends to rescue me.
"She believes she already is healed." Mom says.
The poor man can't catch a break! "Alrighty then! Lets get started!" He says with clapping his hands together with enthusiasm.
"Lord Jesus," he starts with, "Lord Jesus, you said that if you believe it shall be done. And Lord we believe. Yes, Lord we believe...." Then he goes on for not even half a sentence when all the sudden he is saying, "Lord take this evil out of this girl! Take out the sickness and evil! This evil that is inside of her! Take it! Take it Lord and cast it down to hell!"
'HOLY CRAP I'M GETTING EXORCISED!' Those were my exact panicked thoughts. I know, my mind has such a potty mouth. Anyway, I'm freaking out and I didn't really hear much else of what he was saying because I was stuck on that, "take this evil out of this girl!" business.
Evil? I have evil inside of me?
I mean I know I was a little ornery sometimes, maybe a little bit mischievous in my younger days. "Brother did it!", "Baby! You shouldn't fart like that!" I know, but I was just a little kid. I never thought of myself as evil. I don't think I ever did anything evil. In fact I thought of myself as a pretty good kid. Some people would even call me the perfect child.
I don't think that being sick is bad either. I mean good things can come from it if you let them. You can make it bad if you want but it can go the other way. Something that I like to think I had accomplished.
Mother Goose has expressed to me many times that all of my #2 Fans have become better people because of their whole experience. Not just the sickness, but the experiences that came with it. Like meeting me, something that would have never happened if the Swain Princess hadn't gotten sick. They say that their lives have actually gotten better because of it.
Imagine that? Your life improving because of something evil?
That's the thing. People that have taken their sickness and let it change them for the better can't imagine their lives without it, and in the end, they are so thankful that it happened to them. They are thankful that they became such beautiful people. Maybe you used to be an ugly duckling, but then something happened in your life that made you and even the people around you into beautiful Swain-like Princesses.... Or Princes, for our male readers. How can that thing be evil?
More so, how can that evil be in me? Could I really have all that evil in me without me even knowing it? I don't think I did anything worthy of being called evil. I mean watch the news, there is tons of evil stuff... Sickness isn't bad.
I snapped in and out of my thoughts to catch glimpses of what the Preacher Man was saying. I did this enough to know he meant everything he said with good intentions, but telling someone that evil lives in them is kind of like telling someone that they are ugly. You can say it as nice as you want, but it still doesn't make them feel good. However I was able to very easily forgive the man for his accusations, because it was very evident that he did everything he did with love.
So, that was all good. However when the Preacher Man left and everyone settled bad down, I did start to sense something bad, and I sensed it with my nose.
End of Part 3