When my mother told me she had contacted some Mormons in my town to give a blessing there was a large part of me that wanted to say "No thanks. I already rubbed a magic onion on my head." But when the word tumor is floating around Doctors offices you tend to back off form biting remarks. Did I believe that a priesthood blessing would stop whatever was happening in my head? No, tho I really wished it would. I admit I wanted to get back to God simply so I would not feel sick. I wished I had drowns of Mormons to come over and make me dinner, and talk to me, and tell me some dude in the sky was going to make everything okay.
I decided to let my parent arrange a blessing for me. My sister came over with her husband and an old family friend. It was really nice to see how much my family cared about me. I felt a little awkward participating in a blessing. They asked me who I wanted to say the main blessing and I wanted to say "My Sister!" How cool would that be for me to totally shake the establishment and have a woman give the main--Ouch oh i'm in pain!... It's hard to be rebellious and desperate at the same time.
I did really enjoy the comfort that came with the laying on of hands. People visiting me and asking me how I was feeling. Knowing my family was doing everything they could to keep me together. Helping me with food, cleaning, Doctor appointments, and anything else I needed. They were there fighting with me God or no God.
Thankfully the white light at the end of the tunnel was just a tiny doctor flashlight. I did not die of a brain tumor and after 7 months of doctors and drugs I'm back.
I think there is nothing wrong with letting your family support you in their own way. However, it did open a door. Yesterday some ass stole my guitar out of my car. The guitar I have had since I was a teen. My most sentimental possession. I called my Mother crying. I was a mess. Right there over the phone my mother insisted we pray that it is found. She stared praying while I frantically ran around my apartment. I was really annoyed. Like I was a 5 year old being told to say a prayer.
Turns out the "ass" who stole my guitar found it outside a bar and figured out my name, and gave it to the bar manager who was holding it for me...soooo yeah. I am the ass who forgot to put it in my car. My boyfriend Alex was the one who recommend I retrace my steps and call the bar. When I called my mom relived the Guitar had been found my mom said "Well it's a good thing we prayed". That annoyed me more.
I said it was a good thing JJ told me to call. My mom and I went back and for trying to figure out who really found my guitar? Was it me? Was it JJ? Was it God? Deep in my heart I know who found it. The credit goes to a mysterious man I have never seen before. He might have a beard, and might even ware sandals. One thing I know for sure... he likes Christie's Bar and Grill.
So hear is my question. Can you allow yourself to get a blessing one day and then argue that God doesn't exist the next? I don't regret letting my parents get me a blessing, but have I opened an annoying God door I can not close? I know thinking you are going to die and losing a guitar has a slightly different elements of urgency. How do you balance sticking to your beliefs against keeping the peace?