Are You an Angel?

Sometimes God takes you to the right place but under a different context. My husband Michael and I had been invited to a network marketing opportunity meeting about an hour from our house. The founder of the company was a friend of Bridget’s, so she was hosting the meeting at her home. We listened to the presentation and watched in amazement when most everyone in the room signed up for the opportunity. I was wandering around and chatting with the people there, when Bridget came up to me.

“Remember when I was asking for your help with my mother-in-law last week? Well, she isn’t doing very well. Can you help?”

“Sure,” I said. “Do you want to make an appointment and do a phone consult or bring her to my house? Where does she live?” I asked.

“Well, she’s downstairs. We have an apartment down there and she lives with us.” Bridget said. “Will you see her now? She’s in a lot of pain, and I’d be so grateful.”

Bridget had e-mailed her mother-in-law’s story to me several days earlier. Apparently Grace needed a skin graft for one part of her body, and the doctors had removed several strips of skin from the front of her thighs to accomplish the graft. The place that needed the graft had healed, but the thighs where they had removed the skin for the graft were not healing at all. I had recommended my “miracle cure” of slippery elm bark and had explained to Bridget in detail how to apply it. I had no idea why the graft had not healed by this time and was quite curious. It should have healed in three days or less. I’d never seen that treatment fail.

“Take me to her,” I said.

It was dark as we went downstairs. As my eyes adjusted, I became aware of a neat and tidy apartment. Her mother-in-law was in bed with eyes closed, not wanting to move. I could feel her pain. She had a grimace on her face and was softly moaning.

“Mom? I brought someone to see you,” Bridget said.

Groaning, Grace opened her eyes and gazed at me. “Are you an angel?” She asked.

I don’t know how or why I said what I did, because it was totally out of character, but I said, “Yes I am,” softly but confidently. “Did I really just say that?” I thought to myself in amazement. Who did I think I was anyway?

Sometimes the right things just come out of my mouth. I find more and more that as I align myself with a life of service and center on connectedness with Spirit, it happens more and more. What she said next made me choke back tears of sadness…

“Good, because this morning I prayed that God would take me home or send me an angel. Thank you for coming. I wasn’t quite ready to die yet, but I’m in so much pain … ”

I could see that she had immediately re-engaged with living. It was amazing.

“Thank you, God, for placing me here and for having me say the exact thing that this woman needed to hear,” I prayed silently to myself.

As I was asking her about her surgery and how many weeks she had been suffering from the aftereffects of the graft, we removed her bandages to assess the damage.

“Ouch,” I thought. The legs had three quarter-inch strips about seven inches long that were raw but looked like healing had begun. It just was not progressing.

“Where is the slippery elm bark poultice I told you to put on these?” I asked Bridget.

“Oh, we tried a sample on the top of this wound for a day, but I didn’t notice a difference.”

She pointed to about a one-inch section of one of the donor graft places on the leg. As my mind numbed, I tried to act as if I weren’t concerned and also forced myself not to roll my eyes … I’ve been admonished a few times for being too expressive.

“Well, it should have worked by now, so let’s show you how to do it the right way. You said you couldn’t find the bark in bulk, but that you found the brand I recommended, right? We’ll need that, a clean dish, some counter space, and some sterile water. Where’s the bottle of slippery elm bark?”

We went into the bathroom, and Bridget extracted the bottle of slippery elm bark from a drawer. I noticed that it seemed to be a full bottle. “Hmm. No wonder it didn’t work,” I thought to myself.

“How many of the capsules did you use for the last poultice?” I asked her.

“Three,” she replied.

“Okay, I want you to take apart enough capsules to make a little pile of bark in this dish. We’ll need about two tablespoons. That should equal about 50 capsules. When you get that done, come get me. I’m going to talk to your mom about her painkillers. She’s not taking them, and with the amount of pain that she’s in, her immune system must be suppressed. If we can stop the pain and get her to relax, that should help the healing process considerably.”

I went and sat on the bed next to Grace and held her hand. It took a little convincing to talk her into taking the painkillers, but I explained that she would not get addicted with just a few days’ worth, and that it would help her to heal by strengthening her immune system. I talked to her about the bandaging procedure and made sure she understood that the bandage with the poultice underneath should stay moist at all times.

When the bandage was changed, she was to flood the area with sterile water and let it soak a few minutes so that the bandage would almost fall off on its own. After that she was to have the bandage gently removed –  it shouldn’t hurt – and then reapply a new poultice every day without cleaning off the excess that may remain on it from the day before, no matter how tempting that may be. I could tell she had total faith in what her “angel” was telling her.

“OK. I’m ready,” said Bridget.

I went into the bathroom and showed Bridget how to add just enough sterile water to make the healing herb the consistency of instant oatmeal.

“It should be like a big ‘ole booger. Now, take a gauze sponge and slop that stuff on. Don’t be stingy about it. I want the entire wound smothered.”

I repeated my instructions on how to keep the dressing moist. This time, we applied the dressing together so that both Bridget and Grace knew how it was to be done.

Bridget asked, “Do we wait until after the nurse comes before we change the bandage?”

“What nurse?” I asked as I thought, “Oh no! Not a nurse!”

I was sure that this nurse would come, see what we were doing and ask all kinds of questions about the “witch-doctoring” we were doing, and then put an end to our doctoring. This would be way beyond her level of comfort and something she knew nothing about.

“When is she coming next?” I asked, thinking, “Please God, let it be more than two days!”

“She’ll be here the day after tomorrow – in the afternoon. She’s been coming every other day for eight weeks now to check on mom and to change her bandage. She’s very concerned about her.”

“Yikes! Let us pray,” I was thinking.

“OK, change the bandage after she gets here. Everything seems to be under control now. I’m sure you won’t have to apply the poultice for too many days. Hopefully, when the nurse gets here, she will see enough progress to understand what we are trying to accomplish and she won’t make us discontinue the treatment. E-mail me or call if you have any questions. You have my number – right, Bridget?”

Two days later I received an e-mail with Bridget’s name in the sender box. My heart took a start as I wondered what she wanted.

Bridget had written to inform me that the visiting nurse had come and was so pleased with Grace’s progress that she had “signed her off” and no longer felt the need to come back! The leg had healed and they no longer needed to apply the slippery elm poultices or the bandages.

Now THAT’S a miracle. Thank you God!

By Dr. Denice M. Moffat

Taken with permission from I Am A Miracle–A Gathering of Celebrated Writers, Musicians and Artists by The Miracle Mastery Book Team

Helpful links/References for Are You an Angel:

• Coaching program with Mary Morrissey: https://marymorrissey.com/
• Book this story is in:  I Am A Miracle by the Miracle Mastery Book Team https://www.amazon.com/I-Am-Miracle-Caryl-Lenahan/dp/0937861669