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Recently I was asked to give healing to a small child, three and a half years old. This little girl was partially deaf, blind, unable to breathe through her nose, had had seizures, and, as a result, suffered a weak heart. Her mother had written to me, desperate and afraid, looking for a miracle. Where was I to begin? I leaned over the cot where the child lay; she looked the size of an eighteen-month-old baby. On her head was a headset, and her hands clutched a small cassette recorder, which she constantly kept switching on and off. Music was playing softly in her ears but I could barely hear it. So then, where was I supposed to start? If I had not had all my years of training, I might have been terrified of the responsibility I was faced with. But I have learned it is true that I am a spiritual being, yet my human state has its limitations. This was a time when, even knowing my own power, all I needed to be right now was a powerful yet clear channel for healing.
I sat next to the child, placing my hands on her gently, careful not to startle her. Bowing my head, I sent out a prayer to God, to that great universal power, asking only "Thy will be done." Five minutes passed, and I became aware of the most beautiful light. I watched, knowing, feeling the presence of God, and of angels. The light grew brighter, swirling around and around, encasing the child, protecting the child. Looking to the mother now, who was bending over her child, I reached out my hand and stroked her face.
"This child is a special child, a precious child," I whispered to her. "A child who has been given as a great gift to you. A child who will cause you such pain, so many tears, but yet a child who will teach youthe true meaning of love, of joy, and of life."
I looked back to the child; her hands had become relaxed and her eyes were closed in sleep. All through my body I could feel energy, healing energy, flowing. Flowing into, then out to, my patient. I did not try to help, except now to place my hands upon the child's head. All I could be was a clear channel. God did the rest.
Copyright ) 1997 by Rosemary Altea.