Posted by:
BahBahBlacki
(
)
Date: May 04, 2012 11:02AM
This is a story that takes place over many years. I have been around to see its beginning and its end, having been one of the friends to this family. It's about time I tell it. Be warned, this is not a short thread.
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This girl was an often feisty spirit, rebellious if not hard to handle. Her temper and jealousy of her many sisters was not hard to place. My last unsoiled memory of her was of her throwing a huge fit about not getting her way. While that was her forward attitude to the world at large, she had her sweet, little girl moments. Just days after that fit, it seemed, she fell into a sickness that baffled everyone. For her benefit, I will not give exact details.
But she was a very sick girl. She lost a tremendous amount of weight, had huge flaking sores that covered her body and even her head. She could not move without being in tremendous pain, often crying out just putting her feet to the floor. She even began to loose her hair (not cancer related at all). If you touched her, it would leave a bruise. She was miserable, made sure everyone knew it, and lashed out with her bitterness. Then she fell inward, feeling alone in her struggle.
Why? Because her family believed that if she would only pray and let God heal her, she would, in fact, be healed. Blessing after blessing, nothing happened. Who did they blame? Her.
"You don't have enough faith."
One of the sisters even thought that their sick one just didn't want to be, that she liked this 'extra special' attention. They had to bathe her, dress her, help her to and from the bathroom, cook and clean for her. She didn't have to do a chore or raise a finger for herself anymore. All I could think was how no one could understand her pain. I saw a girl who was suffering so badly around people who just couldn't sympathize, or wouldn't.
Though this family was very much Mormon, they were seen as oddities in the strict, small-town Mormon community. It wasn't hard to pick up on rumors, the pity as they saw the very sick girl who rarely attended church anymore because it was an unbearable feat to get there. Here, in this community, if you were sick or injured, you were very much expected to get up and miraculously be well after a well placed blessing or two. If you didn't, well...it was obvious. You became a target for rumors and speculation. Labeled as Unfaithful, Unworthy. Imagine what this did to the soul of this young girl. She withdrew into herself even more, and her sickness got worse.
During a visit to a doctor (not even doctors could figure out all these mixed symptoms), the doctor (Mormon) saw the girl's bruises she had on her arms. Now, she got most of them from just setting them on the arms of a chair. Others were from family members having to help her around by touching her arms. She was all but a skeleton, patches of hair beginning to fall out. She could barely move her fingers due to swelling at her joints. And she obviously wasn't happy. What this doctor saw was a physically abused child.
I'm going to bring to mind that most of her family started coming around and realized it was going to take more than a blessing to help. That she needed compassion. The girl had even started to cheer up a bit, now that there was some positiveness to feed off of.
Behind their backs, the doctor and his assistants called an ambulance for the child. Then he proceeded to go on with the appointment without a hint about what was about to happen. Police officers showed up, blocking what family members had come with the her that day as she was strapped down on a bed and taken to a hospital. While things got sorted out (it was a very chaotic time, but I'm leaving out further details on purpose), when they arrived home a few days later, the change to the family was both physical and mentally visible.
Their own trusty Mormons had stabbed them in the back. They hadn't even given the mother a chance to explain why her daughter was that way, so bruised and looking so undernourished. They family continued to go to church, but I noticed a large gap. Not with the religion itself, but with the people. The rumors were crazy now. Each one was targeted. I remember catching a priesthood holder saying something snide about the whole situation. I was a shy little creature of the fold back then, but it made me so angry that I glared the smugness right off his pointed face.
I was targeted, too. After all, I was a friend to these people who 'abused' their daughter. They constantly tried to get information out of me. Right now, I flip the bird. Back then, I never told them any details. I would smile, and say, "Oh, they're doing just fine" or "They are here today, you know. Why don't you go ask -them-?" Even the bishop called me into a 'casual' meeting. The second he closed that door to his office, though, I tensed (back then I was terrified of men, especially being closed in with them). He was friendly, asked how my family was doing, my friends. I knew exactly what he was doing. I was stiff, but managed to say the same things I'd been saying to someone else. The bishop was polite, but I could see he was disappointed that I didn't 'open up to him'.
During all this, the family avoided major doctors. They went to small practices instead, got the girl going on some kind of special diet. For a while, it seemed to work. But the people of our small town was still ripping the spirit right out of them. Why were they doing natural remedies when a blessing would do so much more? When the girl relapsed, the family got fed up with the town, and moved.
Over the next few years, I was still in contact. After high school, I ended up moving not too far from them. The family had settled into yet another small community, but it seemed to be suiting them fine. The girl had one Christmas where she was able to walk on her own again, to smile and sing, to help give back the love her family had been showing her. It was labeled as a miracle, for you see, that Christmas the family gave money to another family instead of using it for the girl or themselves. They thought God had blessed them for such a wonderful offering.
Once again, the girl was subject to the test of faith. It wasn't long before she went into another relapse. She got worse than ever before. At one point, I was reunited with the family and got to see the girl again with my very own eyes. Gone was her natural hair...there sat a skeleton. But she was trying so hard to try and smile at me, to say she was okay. She couldn't finish her sentence. And I didn't make her.
This was a special gathering, and one of the beginnings of my flailing testimony. The worthy males of her family gave her special blessings of healing. Then her father knelt before the girl (she's been in a wheel chair for years) and said things along the line of how, if she had enough faith, she would be able to walk after this blessing. She would be healed, her health would return. My heart clenched painfully as the girl began to cry. It wasn't in hopeful happiness--it was in stress. Her family cooed at her, saying she could do it, just believe. I was silent, my throat too constricted for speech.
With the girl still sobbing, her father gave her an ultra-special-blessing of healing. It was long, filled with many 'He knows your love for Him, he knows you will believe in Him'. The room was silent except for his voice and the quiet sobbing of his young daughter. When he was done, the expectation was so thick I could have chewed on it. The girl sat there, silently.
Then she brought her stiff hands up to her sunken face and cried harder. She wailed that she was sorry, she couldn't walk, she couldn't do it. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry...!"
That day sticks out to me. I dream about it once in a while, too. It still makes my eyes sting and my throat constrict. We went our separate ways again. By the next time I was able to get a hold of them by phone, I got the news that the girl had gotten so sick she had been rushed to the nearest major hospital. She was taken into the hands of the State and out from her parents. And there she stayed, with doctors nearly killing her in the process of trying to find out just what, exactly, was wrong with her. It took a long time, too long. Her family was ridiculed, temple recommends taken, jobs lost.
Only just recently have things began to mend. The girl is healthier, and out of the hospital. I'm too far away as of now to see her in person any time soon, but the family sent me pictures. She's doing wonderfully. Her hair is growing back, the patches of icky skin are gone, the inflammation of her joints just a memory. She is in the care of her sisters now--she is not allowed to be with her parents until she is old enough to be considered an adult to make that decision for herself. Again, I must leave out most details about that.
I thought she would go inactive in the church, of all people, but it wasn't to be. She was grateful to God for giving her life back. By now I'm obviously an ex-Mormon, but it never surprised me she stayed in the faith. Perhaps she will be 'allowed' to stray once she is an adult. I don't know. I doubt it. For a long time, I was mad at the girl's father for putting her under so much stress that day. It seriously began to make me question things, though. After a while, I let the anger go. Most of it, anyway. These people are so washed into their religion, something I can understand since I, too, was at one point.
But it makes me want to bear my un-testimony...
The church is -seriously- messed up with the faith crap. But you all know that, whether by experience or hearing about stories such as this one.
Edited 2 time(s). Last edit at 05/04/2012 11:26AM by BahBahBlacki.