Sister Brown was absent from church for many weeks for reasons best known to herself. I called her at home several times, but she was never available to talk. Eventually, I sent her a small card advising that I was thinking about her because I hadn’t seen her for a while. After that, she called me, and since a female business associate inadvertently answered the phone, sister Brown immediately assumed I was trying to two-time her with another woman. I later returned her call and realized she had flown into a rage: “You call yourself a man of God, and you do this stuff?” She roared. “I think we have a misunderstanding,” I replied. “No, we don’t,” she shouted. All I heard next was the dial tone. My mercurial friend was back in church one bright, sunny Sabbath morning. At that time, I recalled from my previous review of the appropriate literature that people who suffered from Mood Disorders were positively sensitive to sunshine. She sat in her usual place in front of me. After some introductory courtesies, I decided that the best way to make any progress with her at that time was to indulge her vanity and grandiosity. Accordingly, I suggested, “I would like to apologize for everything that happened the last time we spoke on the phone; I’m truly sorry.” “Apology accepted,” She snapped. If there was any lingering doubt in my mind vis a vis her psychosis, all such questions were banished after this brief interaction. “Why don’t I send you some flowers and put this whole imbroglio behind us?” I suggested.
Her reply was instructive, “O.K., brother James, go ahead and do exactly what you’ve said. But just make sure you don’t screw up this time.” The more I reminisce upon this scene, the more convinced I become that my proposed course of action was an act of folly. The mentally ill suffer from a disorder of thought, speech, and conduct, which only becomes increasingly debilitating. Therefore, any attempt at a normal relationship with someone in that category is an arduous task and an exercise in futility. I dutifully took the flowers to sister Brown’s house, just as I had promised. I had intended to personally present them to her myself. However, I was also accompanied by another young woman. I felt I needed some protection in case of an unforeseen mishap. I pressed the doorbell, but there was no response, and I concluded that it would be best to leave them as near the door as possible to ensure that she would see them. Thereafter, we drove away. Sister Brown was in church for the next scheduled assembly. But at that time, her appearance was considerably different. She never acknowledged receiving the flowers and failed to thank me. But for some unknown reason, she appeared to be sad. Could it have been because she was really confused? The whole situation seemed awkward as if she had no idea what to do next. I couldn’t spend much time with her since I had to attend my Bible class. Interestingly enough, another young gentleman was wearing very black shoes and a grey suit and sitting about three feet from where she was seated. When I approached her to converse, I sat closest to her.
“Why was he there,” I wondered? Probably to protect her fragile ego. To make me believe that she was not completely alone. If I changed my mind about her, she wanted me to think that another attractive male was waiting in the wings for her. If that was her thinking, then she had clearly misread me. This would not surprise me since the mentally ill have an excellent track record of misunderstanding/misconstruing/misrepresenting/ and misinterpreting all the events involved in the basic dynamics of human relationships. That same afternoon, I was window shopping in a large Shopping Center in South Bend, Indiana. I was accompanied by a small group of people: a lady, her daughter, and her daughter’s boyfriend. Unexpectedly, we ran into a booth occupied by Sister Brown. I greeted her and explained to my friends that we attended the same congregation. After wandering around aimlessly for about one hour, we eventually lost each other. The lady in our small group ran into sister Brown’s booth again and innocently asked if she had seen me. This simple question led to a crisis. Things, however, tend to happen for excellent reasons. Even though we may not have been aware of them at the time of their occurrence. Sister Brown irrationally concluded that this stranger who questioned her about my whereabouts was either my wife or my woman. Subsequently, after imagining all kinds of possible conspiracies that we were all plotting against her, she decided that these developments needed drastic actions. On Friday evening, which is exactly when the Sabbath hours begin, I was subjected to a paranormal experience. I saw a vision of sister Brown on the wall nearest to my bedroom door. She was covered with blood, and to my shock and amazement, there was a dagger in my hand. By some means unknown to myself, I had occasioned this extremely serious injury that had been visited upon her. In shock and dismay, I wondered what this revelation was all about. I didn’t have to wait long.
(TO BE CONTINUED)
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