An Unexpected Miracle!

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic


I have no explanation for this Miracle, but its Source or Origin I can guess!

Submitted: June 10, 2018

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Submitted: June 10, 2018

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An Unexpected Miracle!  

 

By Alexander Guinevere Kern

 

6-10-2018

 

 

My . . . Gratitude to God this Sunday.

 

About a week ago, I began (only began) to digest what is clearly a Sudden and Unexpected blessing granted to me by my Maker.

 

God is the giver of every good and perfect gift.

 

All Healing comes from God, via other people, Angels or God Himself.

 

Such miracles usually leave the recipients awed and without the capacity for speech, or even prayer.

 

I’m still in a state of shock and bewilderment.

 

As I have reported in these pages, and can be easily proven by checking with three hospitals, doctors and nurses galore, ERs hither and yon, and some of the finest cardiologists known to me, I was sadly diagnosed with super hypertension.  We usually wind up on five or more medications, all of which left me with zero life.

 

That is the best one can hope for - at my age.  Doctors tend to ignore requests for energy, passion and function - they only care about getting that stratospheric blood pressure reading down.

 

As if lying in bed all day, without social concourse, conversation or activity, would be saluatory for one’s mood and health.

 

Women in their 50s, who live alone, without social support, by choice, poverty or ill health, as I did for 14 years, seldom leaving their domicile and barely able to stay vertical from sickness, disease, prescribed drug side effects, are often afflicted with extreme hypertension and severe depression. Drugs and therapy did NOTHING for me. They usually die.   That is a solid fact.

 

We have no real reason to live, imprisoned in the bed, diagnosed with a maximum of 10 years to live, and only if the hypertension is treated successfully.  Why bother? My husband divorced me for a much younger, smarter and far more beautiful woman. My children lived in other states, I’ve only seen four of my Grandchildren, and one of them only 7 or 8 times in her 21 years, no husband or lover or friends . . . why bother to live?

 

Especially if you know by personal experience it is a Paradise of Love and Light and your entire Soul Family happily and joyfully waits at the end of your “adventure/journey” on the Earth Plane.

 

Considering that my story, as I have related it to you, with the best effort I could afford, would leave ANY person with the worst depression of all human time, it has been misery above and beyond my human ability to cope with it.   So I do my best to share my story, believing it might save others from succombing to the same fate - and, as one of my NDE friends once said to me, <she keeps it as her vow>:

 

“If you don’t like what I’ve written about you, you should have treated me better.”

 

Amen.  Chaucer once said, “You can make me naked for a day, but I can make you naked for all eternity.”

 

Writers, we got the Power.  Gwen and the pen and well . . . my keyboard.

 

And my faith God Yahweh would straighten out this noxious, inhumane and abominable mess at the end. He wil make good of it, be sure.  I would dearly like to be present when it is proclaimed WHY such a nightmare was occasioned upon me.

 

Every person over 25 years old I’ve ever met has shared with me their own version of my story, to my sorrow.  We are all so far away from the Paradise we deserve, as living Creations of our Maker, and I wrote this tale to demonstrate who and what is behind the Fall of Man, and our Collective Consciousness.

 

Several weeks ago I took my blood pressure.

 

It was surprisingly low.

 

I realized the medications I’d been buying were half the strength of the ones prescribed by numerous doctors.

 

Curious, I cut the dose in half again.   Each day I check my blood pressure throughout the day.

 

Even when I have been as active as possible, it never goes above 140/80.

 

Typically it is 128/77.

 

For a woman who could count on her blood pressure to be 230/130 and well above that - doctors and nurses gasping and speedily tossing me into a wheelchair and packing me off to the local ER, this was rather stunning.

 

So I bought another, expensive monitor - same readings, day after day.

 

It is most curious, most welcome and most . . . amazing.

 

I live in California; I get to use the word “amazing” for just about anyone or anything.

 

From 7 pills a day of various blood pressure medicines, I am taking 5mgs of ONE.

 

5mgs.

 

Now you will ask me to run off to the nearest ER or Urgent Care of cardiologist to have my blood pressure read.

 

Well, I won’t do that. After all I have been through, I have hideous White Coat Blood Pressure reactions and yet they will STILL get a reasonably low number. 

 

I have learned NOT to automatically trust most doctors.

 

And I have learned NEVER to trust Soul Plans and those who create the experiences THEY want, no matter what ill effects it may have upon our Human selves.

 

Thus, I slowly build back my strength, my mood is stabilizing, my sturdy heart begins to . . . hope -

 

Hope, that fragile thing.

 

They told me I’d die years ago - and I did, however I was suffering from three serious health conditions at the time.

 

Now, I take 5 milligrams of Norvasc and my blood pressure may vary a bit throughout the day, but is stable and normal by the testimony of two, expensive blood pressure monitors.

 

Which means I won’t die any minute of any of the dire outcomes a cardiologist described to my daughter, right in front of me.

 

I might . . . live.

 

Plan a future.

 

It is going to take a long time to acquaint my psychological condition with that concept.

 

I haven’t much left to live FOR. I am NOT a Grandmother who dotes on her Grandchildren to the point where my Identity depends upon showering them with my love.  I have not received any contact from one of my children of her own volition and the other is over-taxed with her own children and homeschooling. She maintains contact when she can, a beautiful, loving person.

 

Love? What IS that?

 

I wonder if I shall become well enough to . . . find out.

 

I used to truly be drunk with passion for Art and Literature and learning and adventuring . . . thrilled to my core to awaken each day, my To Do List fat and lengthy with ideas and obligations and assignments.  With kids, you know, there is always so much To Do.

 

Poems jettisoned out of my head, just by reading a book or seeing something particularly enthralling . . . wherever I might have been that day.  Even cloud formations.

 

My creative head has been dead since a devastating breakdown in 1997.  And no psychiatrist at the time was willing to diagnose me with mental illness because they did not see any signs of it.

 

My symptoms were strange, indeed. Aspergers Syndrome better explains them.

 

That did not stop them from at last prescribing such a stew of drugs I had no idea who I was for two years afterwards. I did not remember I painted, or wrote novels. I honestly did not understand what had happened to me. No one ventured a solid opinion.  I was lied to in order to keep me "on your medication." But there was no relief from my symptoms and many of those agents have been discontinued due to toxicity. No one prescribes them much anymore.

 

And then again, the abuse of my mind, brain and body for Medical Human Trafficking Slave Experimentation (don’t snort at me. I will be proven correct.) might very well have had everything to DO with my “breakdown.”

 

My Soul may even have ordered it, from the Sh** List Menu for HER Life Lessons/Experiences To Do List.

 

For Grades, Fun or Performance. For experiences. Because, Source says, there is no right or wrong, only experiences.

 

It seems the True Divine God had a different idea for me.

 

No miracle like THIS happens for no reason.

 

Nothing is an accident.

 

Nothing . . . 

 

So it appears I shall not hit the skids any time soon, although one never is made aware of one’s proper Time.

 

For we have a Time, all of us do.

 

What shall I do, with this addendum to my Light Script?

 

An Extension, if you will.

 

A re-written script?

 

A stay of Execution?

 

Or did a loving White Light Hand I know so well, ringed with gold up to His shoulder, say, “You shall not take her out of my Hand.”

 

I will bet on the last one. Now I have to do something for HIM.

 

What?

 

I guess He laid that out in The Bible . . . I just must find ways to do what I call “Big Work.”  And the strength and courage to do so.

 

God, give me the strength.

 

I owe You.

 

Ah, Jehovah, you are the Light in my eyes.

 

Love, Guinevere  <----- Hoping to Learn What Love Is


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