Priests and Oujia boards
I was doing 100 km in a 40 zone and had both my lights and siren on. The town that I had been posted in as a peace officer less than a year before was only about 10 blocks long, but I needed to be at my destination now.
"Save him, save him, save him, save him." This was all she could say. Her husband was holding her down, and the younger children were in the playroom with their grandfather also screaming.
I reached down to take my boots off, something once I had entered Tim's room I wouldn't do again. The town doctor was already there and told me there was no reason to rush. He couldn't be saved.
I left the family downstairs and went up to Tim's room with the doctor. 16 year old Tim was laying back on his bed. The shotgun he had in his hands was upside down and his finger was still on the trigger. His eyes were open, and there was a dime size hole in his forehead.
There was a note on his ghettoblaster that said "Goodbye forever." When his mom came home and found him, the music had been blaring. It must have covered up the sound of the shot while his brothers that he was babysitting, played downstairs.
Tim had taken his grandfather's car the day before and crashed it. Tim and his grandfather were extremely close and when his grandfather had been so angry at him, it was believed that Tim in his devastation took his life.
We spends hours in his room. Tim was handled great respect. The coroner, a friend of hers, and myself cleaned his room. The funeral directors took him away. I collected evidence.
It was the evidence that I collected that led me into something greater.
During the few months before his death, Tim and his friends had begun to play with Oujia boards. They worked with Pentagrams, had seances, and they were reports of him levitating. (This one I was not sure about, but what mattered is the kids thought it was true. ) His room had pages and pages of poems and notes about the occult. Some I took with me and some I left.
The town I worked in went crazy. Everyone thought that all the kids were worshipping Satan. There were conflicts between me and the crisis counselor. (Only one counselor for all the kids.) When I went through his locker the counselor was angry that the kids needed to do it for closure. The kids didn't need to find notes about suicide and the devil.
The town was crying out for a meeting for their children but the School Board felt that it wasn't their job. The rumors were talking about Satan worshipping, and how some of the children were doomed to the devil.
I was at a loss. I wasn't sleeping, and I was crying all the time. Everything I had learned in this Catholic town was that suicide was a sin and Tim was swirling in hell. I couldn't understand how a 16 year old boy who probably didn't understand that in pulling the trigger that it would actually be forever, could suffer this fate. I was not seeking God at this time, but every ounce of me could not believe this.
I decide to call a priest that was in a nearby city. Colin specialized in the occult and his name preceded him.
He told me something that has changed my life and the way that I look at my illness. Colin said that when playing around with the occult, Tim allowed Satan into his life. Satan controlled Tim's thoughts, making him feel worthless. When Tim killed himself, it was the words of Satan speaking to him, demons whispering in his ear. Colin said that God would not judge Tim, because he was not actually himself.
With this knowledge, I have fought my disease not just as a physical battle, but also as a spiritual battle. Satan and God are battling for my mind. My mind, my body are God's and while I may come far down sometimes, I must fight my way back. I must fight with the armor of God.
Ephesians 6:10-18 (New International Version)
10Finally, be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power. 11Put on the full armor of God so that you can take your stand against the devil's schemes. 12For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. 13Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand. 14Stand firm then, with the belt of truth buckled around your waist, with the breastplate of righteousness in place, 15and with your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace. 16In addition to all this, take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one. 17Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God. 18And pray in the Spirit on all occasions with all kinds of prayers and requests. With this in mind, be alert and always keep on praying for all the saints.
Satan hates truth. The truth that you are worthwhile, you are special, and you are loved. Whether you believe it or not, you are Loved.
"Save him, save him, save him, save him." This was all she could say. Her husband was holding her down, and the younger children were in the playroom with their grandfather also screaming.
I reached down to take my boots off, something once I had entered Tim's room I wouldn't do again. The town doctor was already there and told me there was no reason to rush. He couldn't be saved.
I left the family downstairs and went up to Tim's room with the doctor. 16 year old Tim was laying back on his bed. The shotgun he had in his hands was upside down and his finger was still on the trigger. His eyes were open, and there was a dime size hole in his forehead.
There was a note on his ghettoblaster that said "Goodbye forever." When his mom came home and found him, the music had been blaring. It must have covered up the sound of the shot while his brothers that he was babysitting, played downstairs.
Tim had taken his grandfather's car the day before and crashed it. Tim and his grandfather were extremely close and when his grandfather had been so angry at him, it was believed that Tim in his devastation took his life.
We spends hours in his room. Tim was handled great respect. The coroner, a friend of hers, and myself cleaned his room. The funeral directors took him away. I collected evidence.
It was the evidence that I collected that led me into something greater.
During the few months before his death, Tim and his friends had begun to play with Oujia boards. They worked with Pentagrams, had seances, and they were reports of him levitating. (This one I was not sure about, but what mattered is the kids thought it was true. ) His room had pages and pages of poems and notes about the occult. Some I took with me and some I left.
The town I worked in went crazy. Everyone thought that all the kids were worshipping Satan. There were conflicts between me and the crisis counselor. (Only one counselor for all the kids.) When I went through his locker the counselor was angry that the kids needed to do it for closure. The kids didn't need to find notes about suicide and the devil.
The town was crying out for a meeting for their children but the School Board felt that it wasn't their job. The rumors were talking about Satan worshipping, and how some of the children were doomed to the devil.
I was at a loss. I wasn't sleeping, and I was crying all the time. Everything I had learned in this Catholic town was that suicide was a sin and Tim was swirling in hell. I couldn't understand how a 16 year old boy who probably didn't understand that in pulling the trigger that it would actually be forever, could suffer this fate. I was not seeking God at this time, but every ounce of me could not believe this.
I decide to call a priest that was in a nearby city. Colin specialized in the occult and his name preceded him.
He told me something that has changed my life and the way that I look at my illness. Colin said that when playing around with the occult, Tim allowed Satan into his life. Satan controlled Tim's thoughts, making him feel worthless. When Tim killed himself, it was the words of Satan speaking to him, demons whispering in his ear. Colin said that God would not judge Tim, because he was not actually himself.
With this knowledge, I have fought my disease not just as a physical battle, but also as a spiritual battle. Satan and God are battling for my mind. My mind, my body are God's and while I may come far down sometimes, I must fight my way back. I must fight with the armor of God.
Ephesians 6:10-18 (New International Version)
10Finally, be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power. 11Put on the full armor of God so that you can take your stand against the devil's schemes. 12For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. 13Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand. 14Stand firm then, with the belt of truth buckled around your waist, with the breastplate of righteousness in place, 15and with your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace. 16In addition to all this, take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one. 17Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God. 18And pray in the Spirit on all occasions with all kinds of prayers and requests. With this in mind, be alert and always keep on praying for all the saints.
Satan hates truth. The truth that you are worthwhile, you are special, and you are loved. Whether you believe it or not, you are Loved.
posted by TIffany at 9:53 AM
1 Comments:
Hi. I came over from "Daily Life in a Homeless Shelter" to Paul's blog to yours! Very interesting. I like your style and find myself absorbed in the stories.
I just read your whole blog. I couldn't stop! I work at the Regina RESCUE Mission so your stories ran me the gamut of familiar emotion...
Some will read and be horrified by your candor! Like when Ken, my husband, preaches about the homeless, makes a joke, and I am the only one who laughs out loud. Oops!
The stigma of mental illness makes me angry! One of my staff members has had all three of his sons diagnosed with schizophrenia. He and his wife have their challenges. Our Mission night watchman has it and functions with dignity and normalcy. He can spot someone who needs an assessment almost right away! He has MI Radar and is a real asset to our work in so many ways.
Grant has come a long way from the days when he was homeless and self-medicating with alcohol. You can read his story on our website: http://www.reginarescuemission.org/gmacdonald.php
Anyway, thanks for sharing some of your journey with the world. From a fellow Saskatchewan girl.
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