Lady #1 wanted the Holy Spirit to flow from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. She wanted him to wash over me and bath me in...I can't remember her exact words...warm fuzzies was what it amounted to.
Lady #2 took over. I tuned back into the prayer at that point. She started talking about patience and fortitude. Great start! Then it took a left turn and sounded like the entire self-help section of a Christian Bookstore. I was supposed to reach out and take hold of something, and throw it to the ground, and sit on it. And know that God will supply if I will only grab onto it. Meanwhile, Lady #1 was speaking in tongues. At least we'll call it that. There was no one interpreting, so it wasn't for my edification.
So, at the end of it all, I didn't feel any of the peace I was supposed to be tackling to the ground. They had all the warm fuzzies, and I just wanted out. Big false-happy smile and a thanks, and I ran for the hills.
Maybe later I'll make this a theological discussion, but for now I'm caught between feeling bad that I'm criticising two heartfelt prayers, and being shocked.