Healed by Faith

“Some things are imagined,
some are possible,
and some are meant to be.”
~ Carol in Unfolding: Nexus

 Faith can heal. There is no doubt.

I’ve seen it work on me and I’ve seen it work on others.

In 1974, I was involved in a serious industrial accident. My right hand was pulled into a running hot roller used to bond synthetic fabrics. The only thing that prevented more of my arm from going in was that I wore a leather work glove which allowed the roller to slip over it without pulling it in. All in all, I was out in under a minute and a half.

It took about a second before I pulled on the operator’s safety wire to shutdown the machine. I’ve trained for emergencies, was practiced in meditation, and was recently out of the military, so I calmly called to the next machine operator standing about 15 feet from me, “My hand’s caught in the roller. Help me pull it out.” He froze, paralyzed and unable to move.

The  well-ordered mind moves extremely fast under these conditions. I asked him to help because I didn’t want to yank it out on my own, concerned the hand would become more damaged. Two of us working together might have been able to ease it out.

Time was of the essence. The roller unit’s temperature was about 300° F and, using advanced mind control techniques or not, one can only last so long before the laws of physics want to assert their control. I began screaming to get the attention of someone who could act.

I was calm and deliberate throughout the entire experience. People began pouring out of the nearby lunch room and several jumped up on the rollers to assist me. Two or three of us pulled my hand out. As soon as it was free, I reached for the cuff of my glove to keep anyone from pulling the glove off (to keep the hand from sustaining greater damage as I knew my skin was stuck to the glove). I was not fast enough. Before I could lock my fingers on the cuff, I watched an arm reach over my shoulder and do precisely the thing I was trying to prevent. The damage was done.

In those days, at the small hospital I was taken to, one could expect the treatment to include the removal of four fingers, leaving only a thumb on my right hand. I knew this is what the doctor was planning. At the time, their reputation was so bad I immediately insisted on being placed in the care of my family doctor who was affiliated with a better hospital some miles away.

The following morning my personal doctor inspected the extent of the damage and immediately arranged for a transfer to the Cleveland Clinic and an orthopedic surgeon who he had studied under. I remained at the clinic for one month where too many things happened to detail in this post. I was right to leave the first hospital. The surgical team took one look at the first doctor’s work and gave sounds and expressions of disgust, though of course, would not admit to me what they were thinking.

Even at the Cleveland Clinic, the doctors expected to have to remove my fingers. The man who I identify in posts on this site as “Old Friend” was a member of the staff and eventually told me a couple of things about what went on when I was under anesthesia. Old Friend and I hit it off within seconds of meeting each other. He knew of things beyond his medical training that were an invaluable help.

Friends and family offered prayers for me, my wife, and our infant son. One friend, a man who would later betray my trust, had a strong paranormal ability and taught me how to move the body’s healing force from within the body’s core to my wound. Between the doctors’ skills, prayers, mental exercises, and psychic visitations, I was able to keep my fingers.

The doctors were quiet concerning their thoughts on the psychic treatment I was receiving and, of course, Old Friend who was an employee at the clinic could not be given the credit he deserved for his encouragement and support. Three weeks into my stay at the end of an examination, one of the two assistant surgeons smiled and said, “We don’t know what you are doing, but keep it up.”

Everyone’s prayers, the doctors’ efforts, and faith along with the training I was receiving in personal healing techniques secured a successful outcome. It took three surgeries over nine months, skin grafts with an uncounted number of stitches, and lots of exercise before the clinic’s team finished their work.

The recovery from my injury didn’t start me on this path, though it certainly re-validated my choice to follow it.

Keep the Faith,

– Jeffrey A. Limpert

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Image Information:

Whitsun

By AlicePopkorn (Cornelia Kopp)

https://secure.flickr.com/photos/alicepopkorn/5822676656/