Roommates
Between lack of time, pain from my accident-al injuries and an absence of creative thoughts good enough to carry a blog entry, I've neglected my blog. Again. Just as I was about to despair, lelo came to my rescue with her suggestion to try
creativity portal, which she used for her blah blah blahgging post. Thank you, lelo!
I chose the prompt, "Did you have roommates or companions? Tell about them and the things you learned living with others." I've had a lot of roommates from my college days and in the years after. Some were great, some good, some awful and some were, well, fodder for great stories. Into that last category falls Mike and Barb, the couple I lived with in my early 20's. Barb and I worked at the same alcohol and drug treatment center. When I needed to find cheaper living than my current HUD housing apartment (I was sooooo broke), she came to my rescue and offered a room in a wonderful, old farmhouse they were renting. My rent was unbelievably cheap - $58 for room, heat, water, the works. That said, we did have to use water carefully because the well was water-challenged (how's that for a creative way to say insufficient?). I discovered this on the day that Barb washed the dishes (by hand), washed her long, gorgeous blond hair and a few other chores that required water. Then I took a bath. The water ran out - not a drop left! - when I was all soaped up. Not fun.
But I digress. This blog is about my roommates, not the joys of living in an old farmhouse.
Mike was a recovering alcoholic and Barb was a recovering addict. Both were clean and sober and credited their born-again faith for their triumph over addiction. Barb was what I call a walk-the-talk Christian. She lived by example, not by preaching her faith, and I admired her greatly. Foolishly, I thought her husband would be the same. Nope. Mike was a my-way-or-the-highway Fundamentalist Christian. Initially, I tolerated his almost daily preaching - remember, the living was cheap and I was broke. I humored him and tried to voice my point of view. But it wasn't any use. In his eyes, I was going to hell because I didn't believe as he did. He urged me to join their church. I politely declined. I'm just not into the whole speaking in tongues thing (common at their services) and I was quite happy with my own church.
Things went along much the same until my nightmare. It was a doozie of a nightmare, too. I'm sure you've had the kind I'm talking about - so horrible that you wake up in a cold sweat, unable to tell reality from nightmare so that the first few minutes find you frantically trying to escape whatever was frightening you while asleep. Even after you realize it was only a nightmare and you've calmed down, sleep doesn't come easily. You turn the light off and turn it back on quickly to reassure yourself that nothing from your nightmare escaped into reality. Yep, that was my esperience. After repeatedly turning my light off and on, I gave in to my fears and left it on for the rest of the night. I finally fell asleep.
In the morning, I chuckled and chided myself for acting like such a child (bravado against nighttime terrors is easier in the light of day). Still shaking my head at my foolishness, I walked into the kitchen to tell Barb all about it. Mike walked in as I finished telling details of my nightmare of little demons and gnashing teeth all around the edge of my bed.
"Oh, no!" he cried, "I knew this would happen when you moved it. We had the house blessed but you moved in unconsecrated. You brought the devil with you!"
Huh?!?!
"We must bless you immediately to banish the demons," and he grabbed the bottle of IGA generic vegetable oil and proceeded to anoint my forehead.
What the ...? I was so startled that I didn't move or say anything even as he proceeded to cast drops of oil all around my room. As I watched him, I realized he was dead serious about this ritual and steadfast in his belief that I didn't have a nightmare; I had really and truly been visited by demons.
Wow.
The final straw came a few weeks later when I walked into the kitchen as Mike and Barb were talking rather seriously. I started to turn around, fearing I had intruded on a private conversation, when Mike called me back. He showed me a pamphlet, "How to save yourself during the Armageddon" (or something like that), and told me where they were going to keep it in the house. He said, with all earnestness and concern for my soul, that I should read it and do as it suggested to save myself when the Second Coming came. I'm sure he saw my bewilderment because he then said, "We won't be around to help you because Barb and I will be taken to the Lord because we are good Christians."
HUH?!?! EXCUSE ME?!?!?!
Doing a slow burn, I looked at him and said, "You do not decide who goes and who stays. How do you know that you won't be the one looking for the pamphlet and I will be the one who is saved?" I said something about his lack of humility and his over-arching ego and pride - not good Christian traits, which he surely knew but had forgotten so wasn't it good of me to remind him. And then I gave an ultimatum. "We will no longer talk about religious issues because we can never agree. I am tired of you insulting me and my faith," and I walked out of the room.
To his credit, Mike never brought the subject up again even though I lived with them for many more months. Peaceably, too.
In her quiet way, Barb continued to inspire me to be a better person, despite our religious differences. From her, I learned that it is better to live as you believe - a do as I do life speaks volumes over mere words. From Mike, I learned to never presume and pronounce that my way is the right way. To do so creates ill will and hinders growth, understanding, compromise and peace.
creativity portal, which she used for her blah blah blahgging post. Thank you, lelo!
I chose the prompt, "Did you have roommates or companions? Tell about them and the things you learned living with others." I've had a lot of roommates from my college days and in the years after. Some were great, some good, some awful and some were, well, fodder for great stories. Into that last category falls Mike and Barb, the couple I lived with in my early 20's. Barb and I worked at the same alcohol and drug treatment center. When I needed to find cheaper living than my current HUD housing apartment (I was sooooo broke), she came to my rescue and offered a room in a wonderful, old farmhouse they were renting. My rent was unbelievably cheap - $58 for room, heat, water, the works. That said, we did have to use water carefully because the well was water-challenged (how's that for a creative way to say insufficient?). I discovered this on the day that Barb washed the dishes (by hand), washed her long, gorgeous blond hair and a few other chores that required water. Then I took a bath. The water ran out - not a drop left! - when I was all soaped up. Not fun.
But I digress. This blog is about my roommates, not the joys of living in an old farmhouse.
Mike was a recovering alcoholic and Barb was a recovering addict. Both were clean and sober and credited their born-again faith for their triumph over addiction. Barb was what I call a walk-the-talk Christian. She lived by example, not by preaching her faith, and I admired her greatly. Foolishly, I thought her husband would be the same. Nope. Mike was a my-way-or-the-highway Fundamentalist Christian. Initially, I tolerated his almost daily preaching - remember, the living was cheap and I was broke. I humored him and tried to voice my point of view. But it wasn't any use. In his eyes, I was going to hell because I didn't believe as he did. He urged me to join their church. I politely declined. I'm just not into the whole speaking in tongues thing (common at their services) and I was quite happy with my own church.
Things went along much the same until my nightmare. It was a doozie of a nightmare, too. I'm sure you've had the kind I'm talking about - so horrible that you wake up in a cold sweat, unable to tell reality from nightmare so that the first few minutes find you frantically trying to escape whatever was frightening you while asleep. Even after you realize it was only a nightmare and you've calmed down, sleep doesn't come easily. You turn the light off and turn it back on quickly to reassure yourself that nothing from your nightmare escaped into reality. Yep, that was my esperience. After repeatedly turning my light off and on, I gave in to my fears and left it on for the rest of the night. I finally fell asleep.
In the morning, I chuckled and chided myself for acting like such a child (bravado against nighttime terrors is easier in the light of day). Still shaking my head at my foolishness, I walked into the kitchen to tell Barb all about it. Mike walked in as I finished telling details of my nightmare of little demons and gnashing teeth all around the edge of my bed.
"Oh, no!" he cried, "I knew this would happen when you moved it. We had the house blessed but you moved in unconsecrated. You brought the devil with you!"
Huh?!?!
"We must bless you immediately to banish the demons," and he grabbed the bottle of IGA generic vegetable oil and proceeded to anoint my forehead.
What the ...? I was so startled that I didn't move or say anything even as he proceeded to cast drops of oil all around my room. As I watched him, I realized he was dead serious about this ritual and steadfast in his belief that I didn't have a nightmare; I had really and truly been visited by demons.
Wow.
The final straw came a few weeks later when I walked into the kitchen as Mike and Barb were talking rather seriously. I started to turn around, fearing I had intruded on a private conversation, when Mike called me back. He showed me a pamphlet, "How to save yourself during the Armageddon" (or something like that), and told me where they were going to keep it in the house. He said, with all earnestness and concern for my soul, that I should read it and do as it suggested to save myself when the Second Coming came. I'm sure he saw my bewilderment because he then said, "We won't be around to help you because Barb and I will be taken to the Lord because we are good Christians."
HUH?!?! EXCUSE ME?!?!?!
Doing a slow burn, I looked at him and said, "You do not decide who goes and who stays. How do you know that you won't be the one looking for the pamphlet and I will be the one who is saved?" I said something about his lack of humility and his over-arching ego and pride - not good Christian traits, which he surely knew but had forgotten so wasn't it good of me to remind him. And then I gave an ultimatum. "We will no longer talk about religious issues because we can never agree. I am tired of you insulting me and my faith," and I walked out of the room.
To his credit, Mike never brought the subject up again even though I lived with them for many more months. Peaceably, too.
In her quiet way, Barb continued to inspire me to be a better person, despite our religious differences. From her, I learned that it is better to live as you believe - a do as I do life speaks volumes over mere words. From Mike, I learned to never presume and pronounce that my way is the right way. To do so creates ill will and hinders growth, understanding, compromise and peace.
posted by bemused at 4:14 PM
2 Comments:
what a great post. i don't like people trying to convert others. drives me crazy. you're a patient person.
Thanks, lelo. I'm not fond of converters either, whether they are born-agains, or in love with the latest health craze or fad diet. I know they are driven by enthusiasm so I try to be tolerant. Besides, I'm sure I've been guilty of similar passion and tiresomeness.
I'm guided by my desire for peace and harmony and my dislike of confrontation. But I'll take your description of me as a patient person over being called a chicken. ;-)
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