MY LORD HEALED ME THEN -- AND MANY OTHER TIMES!!

 Today, when reading a variety of healing issues in my Bible, I was rejoicing because I had been healed many times by the Lord.  He healed my heart several times -- when I was 27, 38, 42 for certain.  He kept from murderers -- some planning to do it to me, and I knew that when I was a young kid.  I also was arranging to do it to them.  For instance, when I was 7 years old in Tacoma and keeping a knife with me when babysitting my 3 sisters [had 5 eventually, BTW] and wouldn't let anyone break into the house and hurt us or steal stuff.   I'm a very gratefully "love of the Lord" person.  He's healed me many ways, physically and mentally.  As I often say now, I could have died from 6 to 42, for sure.  So, sharing this amazing story re: how God protected me and didn't let my legs be too damaged, that's another amazing piece I thought of this morning.  I'm very much blessing and praising the Lord hours and hours a day.  I first put this on to all of you on my blog in April 30, '12.  Sharing it again, even though it's long, is because how the Lord blessed me, even though I didn't know Him very well then.

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     When I had just turned 6 years old, the summer of 1951, still living in the “Birdhouse”, outside Klickitat, WA, a rather unusual event occurred.  I don’t think I knew anything about angels, except when I saw something about Christmas and the angels singing to the shepherds.  That would have been “it”.  However, I happen to believe they were very busy taking care of me.
     My Dad was headed out for milk and, instead of heading to Klickitat, he went the other direction to a farm about a mile up the road.  He took me with him.  He was driving an old-style station wagon.
     In that area, the Birdhouse, the other houses, the pastures, fields and farms were on one side of the road.  The Klickitat River was on the other, with just a few feet between it and the road, with only a grassy ditch and a few boulders before the rushing water.

     Since we were driving north, that meant he would be turning left onto the farm.
     Before we reached it, when I could see the farmhouse in the distance, I was thinking, “I don’t want to be left in the car.  I want to get out.”  To be ready, I held onto the door handle very firmly.
     Well, Dad slowed down to turn left, the door handle went down, and I swung out of the car, grasping the handle.  The door opened wide.  I was scared, of course, but also thinking, “If I let go, I can land in the ditch and it could have snakes!”  So, I held onto the handle.  The door swung back towards the car, and I was forced to let go, and tossed under the car.  The car was moving slowly, since Dad was preparing to turn, but not stopped.  As a result, the rear tires ran over my legs, angling from the top of one leg to the calf of another.
     My Dad hit the brakes, of course, jumped out of the car and over the hood to find me.  Before he reached me, behind the car, I had already rolled over to my stomach and was banging my head on the soft tar road and saying to myself, “Stupid.  Stupid.  Stupid.” 
     There was a car behind us and it stopped immediately.  The driver was a teenaged boy that we knew.  “Bob”, 16, had been in Klickitat at the Swimming Hole, and was wearing only swim trunks, because he was heading home.  

       He was embarrassed to be in this situation, with nothing else to wear, but he held me in the car while Dad drove [raced!] to the nearest town with doctors and a hospital.  Goldendale and Klickitat are about 20 miles apart, which wouldn’t seem like such a big deal in our present way of thinking, except, in this case, Klickitat was in the valley by the river and Goldendale was up on the high plains.  

       This road then [and now] would have a section that was hairpin curving up the grade, a rock cliff on one side, a drop to the river.. sometimes hundreds of feet... on the other and no guard rails.  I expect Dad drove dangerously, to say the least.
     When we reached Goldendale, Dad went to a Doctor first.  All I remember is laying on the table and having my jeans cut off.  You see, if nothing else, the fact that it was July, HOT, and the road covered with tar, my jeans were black from that soft road topping, and stuck to me.  The tire pattern was very clearly seen.  After the jeans were off, which I was angry about, because I liked them, Dad took me to the hospital. Next medical event was an X-ray. 

      Miracle?  My legs were not broken.  I had very few bruises or scrapes.  Dad was told that the reason my legs weren’t broken was because the angle was the only one that would have prevented that from happening.  The worst bruise?  My forehead where I had been hammering on the ground, angry at myself, because I was “stupid”.

      I was in the hospital for 3 days.  They didn’t think I would be, or should be, walking and putting pressure on my legs.  Now, remember, in those days, especially a small hospital, when there was space in a room, under fairly normal circumstances, you would simply be in a room with whoever was there.  The room they put me in had an “older” lady and she was in some sort of recovery, but needed rest.  I anticipate that I drove her crazy.  I was supposed to stay in bed, but didn’t.  I climbed in and out, and, sometimes, jumped up and down from the bed.  Mom and Dad could come in the evening for a short visit, but I vaguely recall that they were told that I wasn’t doing what I was supposed to.  Since I didn’t seem to need more recovery, they sent me home.  I don’t think I was ever back for a checkup.
     Now, when I reached home, I think I actually settled down and rested more for a short stretch.
     I have never had future leg issues.  My muscles and joints are usually painless, even 60-plus years later.  Compared to many of my family and friends in my general age range, that is pretty amazing.

     When I think of the times that God protected me, knew me so long before I knew Him — DUH!!! — and had assigned angels to me, I expect this was one of the top ones; definitely not the first one, knowing my childhood seriosity history, but rather important, doncha think?
     And, remember that time, recalling those amazing details, I always smile.  Big Time.

 

"TRIP" WITH SUSAN, EVERY DAY

This is how it began.  Worth a grin.

Downtown Lake Superior Area, Grand Marais

About a dozen years ago, Dave and I, were up on the North Shore at Lake Superior, Grand Marais, MN.  We dropped in again at one of our favorite touristy sales stores, Blue Moose.  I saw something I thought would be neat for Susie's Mom, Etole.  She, because of stroke-related illness, she had moved in with her daughter, because serious illness had forced her out of her own home.  Susie was more than a blessing in helping her mother.  With both of them in wheelchairs and life not very "easy", we were always just amazed at how the Lord would provide protection and support.  Etole died near Mother's Day, 10 years ago.

Well, while Etole was at Susie's, the gift was over the kitchen sink, facing the east, and at sunrise it could be a bit shiny.  And, as the day increased, the colorfulness and sparkliness was a treat.  Anytime I visited, I couldn't help but smile and smack it a bit so it would twirl around and watch the "jewels" send their sparkles around the room.

When Dave and I were up there a couple weeks ago, looking

forward to seeing her, of course, but also "meeting" Caleb since his birth, spending time with his parents/Susie's dear family, and running and about a bit to see others.  We had a wonderful time, in spite of the fact that the weather was pretty stormy and we couldn't "play" very much.

Just as we were getting ready to leave, Susie told me that the "jewels" in the kitchen were now mine.  I was so very blessed!!  Could hardly NOT feel guilty, because I know how much she loved it.  But she insisted, so I did.

Well, on the way home [550 miles], I decided to hang it from the mirror.  So, I did.  Originally planned to take it in when reaching home and hang it in our kitchen.  But got side-tracked... my personality issue ... and then over the days it was left in the car.

It will be forever.  And today, when going out and about to do basic shopping, while on one of our main streets, I looked at it and though, "Oh, Susie and Etole are with me ALL THE TIME now."  Been smiling about it ever since I got home a couple hours ago, so decided to share it with the rest of the world, too.

I met Susie and her mom in the summer of 1960.  Her mother was a very important person in my life then, and forever.  And Susie, too.  

When I'm driving through Klickitat, WA, next month, on my birthday, 68th -- ouch!! --showing my grandkids where I lived and where their "Grandma" Susie lived, it will be shy of only a month before she entered my life 53 years ago.  [The first time I saw and

met Susie was when I was being shown around and was taken down to the Klickitat River where the swimming "pool" was.  She was walking up from the river.  We were introduced.  I immediately was amazed at her beautiful red hair.  I never forget where I met her.  -- While living there, I swam across the river, dove from the low rocks, name is somewhere, maybe, even after all these years.]

So, during my drive in July, I'll be taking "her" with me as she "jewels" herself in the window. 

[PS.  Can't get the font colors to work out.  Oh, well.  Computers are wonderful sometimes; drive me nuts other times.]

MIRACLE, DONCHA THINK?

When I had just turned 6 years old, the summer of 1951, still living in the “Birdhouse”, outside Klickitat, WA, a rather unusual event occurred.  I don’t think I knew anything about angels, except when I saw something about Christmas and the angels singing to the shepherds.  That would have been “it”.  However, I happen to believe they were very busy taking care of me.

My Dad was headed out for milk and, instead of heading to Klickitat, he went the other direction to a farm about a mile up the road.  He took me with him.  He was driving an old-style station wagon.

In that area, the Birdhouse, the other houses, the pastures, fields and farms were on one side of the road.  The Klickitat River was on the other, with just a few feet between it and the road, with only a grassy ditch and a few boulders before the rushing water.

Since we were driving north, that meant he would be turning left onto the farm.

Before we reached it, when I could see the farmhouse in the distance, I was thinking, “I don’t want to be left in the car.  I want to get out.”  To be ready, I held onto the door handle very firmly.

Well, Dad slowed down to turn left, the door handle went down, and I swung out of the car, grasping the handle.  The door opened wide.  I was scared, of course, but also thinking, “If I let go, I can land in the ditch and it could have snakes!”  So, I held onto the handle.  The door swung back towards the car, and I was forced to let go, and tossed under the car.  The car was moving slowly, since Dad was preparing to turn, but not stopped.  As a result, the rear tires ran over my legs, angling from the top of one leg to the calf of another.

My Dad hit the brakes, of course, jumped out of the car and over the hood to find me.  Before he reached me, behind the car, I had already rolled over to my stomach and was banging my head on the soft tar road and saying to myself, “Stupid.  Stupid.  Stupid.”

There was a car behind us and it stopped immediately.  The driver was a teenaged boy that we knew.  “Bob”, 16, had been in Klickitat at the Swimming Hole, and was wearing only swim trunks, because he was heading home. 

He was embarrassed to be in this situation, with nothing else to wear, but he held me in the car while Dad drove [raced!] to the nearest town with doctors and a hospital.  Goldendale and Klickitat are about 20 miles apart, which wouldn’t seem like such a big deal in our present way of thinking, except, in this case, Klickitat was in the valley by the river and Goldendale was up on the high plains.  

This road then [and now] would have a section that was hairpin curving up the grade, a rock cliff on one side, a drop to the river.. sometimes hundreds of feet... on the other and no guard rails.  I expect Dad drove dangerously, to say the least.

When we reached Goldendale, Dad went to a Doctor first.  All I remember is laying on the table and having my jeans cut off.  You see, if nothing else, the fact that it was July, HOT, and the road covered with tar, my jeans were black from that soft road topping, and stuck to me.  The tire pattern was very clearly seen.
After the jeans were off, which I was angry about, because I liked them, Dad took me to the hospital. Next medical event was an X-ray. 

 Miracle?  My legs were not broken.  I had very few bruises or scrapes.  Dad was told that the reason my legs weren’t broken was because the angle was the only one that would have prevented that from happening.  The worst bruise?  My forehead where I had been hammering on the ground, angry at myself, because I was “stupid”.

I was in the hospital for 3 days.  They didn’t think I would be, or should be, walking and putting pressure on my legs.  Now, remember, in those days, especially a small hospital, when there was space in a room, under fairly normal circumstances, you would simply be in a room with whoever was there.  The room they put me in had an “older” lady and she was in some sort of recovery, but needed rest.  I anticipate that I drove her crazy.  I was supposed to stay in bed, but didn’t.  I climbed in and out, and, sometimes, jumped up and down from the bed.  Mom and Dad could come in the evening for a short visit, but I vaguely recall that they were told that I wasn’t doing what I was supposed to.  Since I didn’t seem to need more recovery, they sent me home.  I don’t think I was ever back for a checkup.

Now, when I reached home, I think I actually settled down and rested more for a short stretch.

I have never had future leg issues.  My muscles and joints are usually painless, even 60 years later.  Compared to many of my family and friends in my general age range, that is pretty amazing.

When I think of the times that God protected me, knew me so long before I knew Him — DUH!!! — and had assigned angels to me, I expect this was one of the top ones; definitely not the first one, knowing my childhood seriosity history, but rather important, doncha think?
And, remember that time, recalling those amazing details, I always smile.  Big Time.