Paula 
After I had finished, explaining my circumstances, as best as I could... There was a long, pregnant pause and then, the priest spoke. "My dear child, what a hardship you have been going through. Why would God do such horrible things to one of his beloved children? And you say that you are hearing voices? What kind of voices, may I ask . . . could you show me?”
"I guess." This I was not expecting, but in my best falsetto, I sang the sound of the voices.
“Hummmm. I see. Well, I must say you have a very good voice, my child. Now, you must put try to put this all out of your head, for none of it exists. None of it! Do you truly believe that Jesus loves you?"
"Yes, I suppose," I hoped he couldn't hear the doubt in my voice. "But, doesn't Jesus love the church lady too?" I asked, confused.
Gently, he replied. "Well, perhaps she is purposely set before you. Perhaps it is God's way to teach you how to love all our brothers and sisters, even when it isn't easy to do so. You have a good heart and you try hard. God does not expect you to be perfect or to always have perfect thoughts. You must believe that the Lord loves you and will protect you. You must believe this and your troubles will all go away. I promise you, that you, are not sick. Try to believe this and we will see. Now, my child, pray with me. Our Father who . . . Well, I pretended to pray, but all I could think about was wearing normal shoes, and pretty shoes, for the rest of my life.
Father Cherbuck really didn’t make any sense to me, but he was so handsome. He advised my mother to tell me that if I would try to get better, I could have a present, any present of my choice. So my mother told me exactly that, “if, I stopped all of "this crazy nonsense.” I said that I would really like to have a scrapbook.
Although, it took two months more of terror and voices, of which I tried to hide. I did improve. I did get the scrapbook. My father suggested that I go and talk to Father Cherbuck again, just to let him know how great I was doing. I didn’t think it was a very good idea, at all. But, in the end, I reluctantly did as I was told. I was ever so shy in telling him my progress, but he was very pleased with me and very pleased with himself for curing me.
I left the confessional downtrodden and fearful. I just didn't have the heart, to tell him . . . to tell him that I was not fine, at all. . . that, now, I was possessed by the devil.
| | Karmalade. Smear it all over your face.  Shaunti Negron Levick |
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