I thought of titling this blog "The Nasty Bitch Strikes Back" (start humming the Star Wars theme with me), but I decided to take the high road. You may remember, Faithful Reader, the last time Nasty Bitch (henceforth referred to as NB) made an appearance in a post. She said and did some not-so-Christian things to my wife, so I went to her house and said and did some very not-so-Christian things is response. The ensuing guilt and remorse I experienced from my outburst ruined the better part of a week for me (think Luke after Darth cut his hand off). I finally ended up apologizing to NB, and, armed with the knowledge that I had done the right thing, the thing both Jesus and Yoda would have wanted me to do, I moved on to my next opportunity to make an wookie of myself.
Well, yesterday, when I spoke to my wife on the phone, she told me NB had said some more not-very-Christian things to her and my daughter and pretty much slammed a door in my wife's face, literally. Of course, my first response was to go to the Dark Side. I had this out-of-body vision of myself screaming at NB again, but the vision that immediately followed was of me having to suck Bantha butt again and apologize. Neither vision gave me much pleasure.
My wife and daughter were at home, out of harm's way, so I decided to pray about the situation on the drive home. I prayed for NB. Her mental state has not improved since my last outburst. In fact, I would say she has gotten worse. She looks like she hasn't slept in about two weeks, and , on a good day, her mood is sullen. On a bad day, she's just, well, a nasty bitch. Since she hasn't had an appointment with her psychiatrist, I know she hasn't started taking any medication to improve her condition. That means that she's still experiencing auditory and aural hallucinations. The last time she was like this, the voices were telling her to kill herself.
As I drove, I prayed for NB. I asked that she be made well, that she gets the help she obviously needs. I prayed that she be happy, really happy--no seeing figures standing in the mirror behind her or sneaking into her bedroom at night, no hearing voices whispering her name or telling her to harm herself. I prayed that she would turn back into the person I used to like, the person I remember going on vacations with. I prayed that she just be a whole person again. Wholeness. I've prayed similar prayers for my wife when she was in the throws of mania or addiction.
By the time I pulled into my driveway, I felt peaceful. I wasn't ready to charge over to NB's house and challenge her to a light saber duel. I was calm and accepting. I saw NB for what she is right now--a sick individual in need of compassion and understanding. That doesn't mean I shouldn't protect myself and my family from cruelty and pain. That does mean that I recognize the source of that cruelty and pain as a symptom of NB's broken mind/heart/soul. And I can pray for her.
That's pretty much what Toribio de Mogrovejo did for a good portion of his life. A 16th century Spanish professor of law, he was appointed bishop of Lima, Peru. For a quarter century, he walked through jungles, forded rivers, wrestled gigantic alien Rancors (just making sure you're paying attention), and exposed himself to things like malaria, leprosy, and heatstroke. Instead of expecting broken people to come to him for help, he went out, met people where they were, and brought them the love and compassion of God. By the time he died in 1606, he had confirmed and baptized nearly one million people.
I probably didn't go as far as Toribio would have gone for NB yesterday. Toribio would have walked to her house, sat down with her, maybe held her hand. He would have asked her how she was doing, listened to her talk about her illness, her anger, her sadness. He would have led her to a better place.
I, on the other hand, patted myself on the back for not calling NB a nasty bitch to her face. I just prayed for her, handed her over to the likes of Saint Toribio, and hoped for the best. Sometimes that's what it's all about: A New Hope.
May the Force be with you.
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