Let me explain, Billy was one of my first acquaintances when I moved to the Houston area. He did maintenance at the apartments and would always arrive to fix my list of “to do’s” when I was sick, taking a rest day from teaching. The two of us, me in my pajamas and robe, sick, would talk about lots of things. We discovered that we had a lot in common.
Over the years I continued to have contact with Billy, usually by phone, during maintenance, or an occasional swing around the dance floor. Our strongest connection appeared to be telepathic. An example: one evening, very late, Billy called and said “Mariann, I am playing poker with my friends. What do you want? I heard you so clearly say CALL ME I thought you were in the room. I asked my friends and no one else heard anything!” That is an excellent example of how linked we were. We could always communicate telepathically unless he was married, which happened twice over the years I knew him.
On this day, Billy didn’t talk much but drove to a 7-11 to get a pack of cigarettes. After he bought the pack he opened it, lit the cigarette and took a drag. Then he drove to a nearby park so we could talk. What I heard was terrifying him and I was frightened too.
A few days earlier Billy was moving a large air conditioner and he dropped it. He grabbed and in the process his fingers were trapped in Freon for as long as five minutes. When he extricated himself he called his mother, a nurse, who sent him immediately to the emergency room. The ER doctors looked at his right hand and scheduled surgery to amputate his fingers a few days hence. That day was tomorrow.
I was stunned. My gut reaction was to go back to my apartment, which we did. My intention was to help him, I had no idea how but I just did what I could. Taking gauze and Camphophenique, I wrapped his fingers, poured the smelly stuff all over them and wrapped the hand. I asked if he would request healing from The Church of White Eagle and he agreed. At that time I was a level 1 Reiki so I did energy work and for good measure used what I remembered from Touch for Health and Paul Dennison’s work.
By that time he was emotionally drained and suggested going to his apartment to watch a video; I agreed. Bad movie but Billy needed company so I stayed. It took over an hour for his fingers to come to life. Suddenly Billy started screaming. “Hit me, hit me in the chest.” Unfortunately, I had no idea how to do it hard enough to distract him, which is what he wanted. Shortly I left Billy alone. I did not hear from him for weeks so I figured he had moved. Then, one day after school, I saw him working at the complex. He was using both hands.
“Billy, what happened?”
He held up his right hand with all five fingers. He told me how miserable he was for hours after I had left, his fingers throbbing painfully. Early the next morning he and his mother arrived at the hospital for surgery. Pre-surgery the doctors examined his fingers and were amazed. The medical team was puzzled and could not explain what happened. The fingers were healed; surgery was cancelled.
A miracle? Perhaps. In my opinion, we did good, Billy and me, I AM.
Thank you God.
PS: I doubt Billy told the doctors the true story of what happened!