Personally, I accept, without reservation or doubt, that there are no coincidences in life. As painful as it is to accept at times, God had a plan. I further believe, that if we listen to our inner voice and learn to accept the offerings of those helping messengers around us, our lives can, and will, be enriched. Even when there seems to be no light in sight.
Linda Daly, author, screenwriter and publisher, is sharing a few personal accounts of her life in hopes that others will view their own lives as a journey.
Linda’s journey began during the fifties when as a toddler she swallowed a lethal dose of poisonous crystals. Her family believes wholeheartedly that her life was spared through the power of prayer. Then in the sixties, help from the other-side touched the lives of a mother and daughter, while reaffirming to Linda that love has no boundaries.
Through the seventies and eighties events proved yet again that if we are tuned in to our inner voice and we react accordingly, our lives can be enriched forever. The nineties finds Linda putting those beliefs to the test when she is driven to assist a woman she read about over the internet. Through this encounter, her life takes on a new direction when she is compelled to leave a career she is established and comfortable in to begin a career in storytelling. Years later her attentions turns to publishing other authors work. All the while receiving affirmation's from the Universe to press on.
Come share the life of an ordinary woman who has had extraordinary events happen in her life that helped strengthen her belief that all things are possible, if you believe.
Excerpt
Chapter One
Power of Prayer
1950’s and Early 60’s
“And He walks with me,
And He talks with me,
And He tells me I am his own. . .”
As a child, I would hear my beloved Grandmother sing this song as she puttered about in the kitchen. Her bibbed apron tied loosely around the waist as she prepared her famous homemade noodle dish, Spetzel from her homeland, Germany. Wherever Grammy was, I could be found following her around the house like a shadow--longing to be near her and the love that she exuded.
“Who is ‘he’, Grammy?” I would innocently ask.
No matter how busy Grammy was, she would stop her task-at-hand and smile lovingly down at me. In her thick German accent, she would whisper, "He is God.”
Years later, I realized that the song that I had grown to associate with Grammy was the same hymn used to dismiss the congregation at our local church. Even today, several decades later, as I hear this hymn I can still hear her angelic voice sing along.
From a very early age, I also recall how both Grammy and Mom had explained what was acceptable to discuss openly about God and His Heavenly Angels, and what was taboo. You see, in my immediate family, it was understood that although many others believed in God, not everyone accepted His other special "gifts" as readily as I did. So, as a child, it was never discussed with the neighbors or close friends that both my Mom and Grammy had ESP, and they heard voices telling them of the future and of the past.
Grammy would tell me, “You are lucky little one, and have many gifts, Linnie-bimp. In time, you will hear a voice too, if you listen hard enough and believe with all your heart." Then as if I understood completely the message she was trying convey, she would add, "Always remember; Positive thinking makes it so!”
In truth, I did not understand, but I would eagerly shake my head in agreement, as if I did. So for most of my childhood, and adult life I gratefully accepted the blessings God had offered, but rarely spoke a word to anyone about them. That was just the way it was, people never spoke of miracles, or ESP openly without being thought of as weird or crazy. Now today, fortunately people are viewing life differently. And this is precisely why, after years of jotting down personal encounters in my life, I wrote, “The Gift: A Journey of Acceptance”.
I believe that everyone, no matter his or her age, origin, or religion has experienced something out of the ordinary. Thankfully, now perhaps, more than ever before these "happenings" have finally become second nature to us all and are perceived as common place. So much so, that a day does not pass-by when you read, or even hear of someone that has been touched in his or her day to day lives. Perhaps you noticed, while sitting and watching the Winter Olympics in Salt Lake City, that it was reported that Jimmy Shea "felt" his grandfather's presence with him, as he and his father passed the torch. Now I ask you, would such a comment have been made a decade ago without eyebrows being raised? Probably not, and certainly not on a respected, national program.
From a very early age, after swallowing a lethal drain opener as a toddler and miraculously recovering without any ill effects from this poison, it became second nature for me to believe in help from the other side. I accepted unconditionally, that by using these gifts my life would, and has been, an abundance of wondrous events.
Before I write more about my first blessing, I am compelled to tell everyone, I am not a scientist, or a clergy. I am however, a working mother of seven, a grandmother of five who has learned to accept the powers surrounding her as guidance from above.
When I was just a toddler, not quite two years of age, after watching my mother spoon the pretty blue crystals from a tin into the clogged sink and mistaking them as candy, I crawled up onto the countertop and swallowed them. Back then, this particular, well-known drain opener was available as bright blue crystals, in a pop-up tin. They were so affective, that if left for a long period of time and not flushed thoroughly, they could eat through the copper piping. Definitely lethal if ingested by humans.
Momma had put them safely away, or so she thought. However, being a very active toddler, walking at six-months old, I managed to spoon the blue crystals into my mouth while Mom was tending to my infant sister. Mom was alerted when she realized I had not followed her into the bedroom, as I normally would have done. Much to her horror after searching for me, she found me with the crystals in my mouth eating away at my tongue and throat.
Sheer horror and panic overcame her as she saw me clawing at what remained of my mouth and trying to call out in pain. Instinctively, Momma flushed my mouth out with vinegar to neutralize the acid, which caused me to scream in sheer agony. Then as quickly as she could manage, with me trashing about in her arms, she covered my blistered lips and skin surrounding my mouth with butter.
Keep in mind, there were no 911 operators at your disposal back then, or poison control hotlines. You relied solely on your own instincts. Adding butter to the burn was thought of by many as a means to sooth a burn in the fifties. With me in her arms, and a stick of butter in her other hand, Mamma frantically ran out of the small flat behind a jewelry store in Walton, Kentucky, desperately screaming and crying for help. It's important for me to point out here, that it was quite common in the fifties to have only one car in a family, and no telephone in your home. With my father away at work, my mother did the only thing she could think of by running to her landlord, the owner of the jewelry store. Naturally, he immediately called the police for help.
Eventually, I was taken to William Booth Memorial Hospital in Covington, Kentucky, in the back of the Sheriff’s car with Momma holding on to me, re-administering the butter from time to time and praying all the way. In those days, it was unheard of for parents to be allowed to stay near their child in the hospital. Upon arriving at the hospital, a nurse took me from my mother’s arms, promptly telling Mom to return home and tend to her other infant. Momma says, as she recalls that day, she can still remember trying to rush past the nurse, hearing my screams echo the halls of the hospital as they began to pump out my stomach.
As inhumane as this may seem now, back then, there were no social workers readily available to comfort my poor distraught mother. Instead, she was left alone, behind locked doors to hear the screams of her little girl. Needless to say, Mom was devastated. Not only from the tragic accident, but also since my birth, Momma had viewed me as her own special gift from God, since I was born on my mother's birthday.
With heavy heart, (probably in shock, is my guess) having no alternative Mom did as the nurse had instructed her to do. As a mother of seven myself, I cannot fathom the pain my mother must have experienced. Forced to leave her first-born child with strangers, not knowing if her little girl would live or die alone must have been unbearable. Then when you add the guilt she must have felt; undoubtedly blaming herself for not securing the drain cleaner securely away, it is completely unimaginable.
After exiting the hospital, dazed and frightened, Momma suddenly realized she had run off without her purse and money. A new sense of panic added to her stress. How was she going to get back home, forty miles away, with no money? There was no way she could contact her landlord for a ride back home or my father, who worked in construction. All she could think about was, how could she possibly explain this to her husband?
Certain that Dad should not hear about this tragic accident from someone else, she looked up to heaven and frantically said a prayer.
“Help me, Father,” she pleaded.
Finishing her quick prayer, Mom glanced across the road where she immediately recognized the Sheriff’s car that had driven us to the hospital earlier. For the first time since all this had happened, Mom felt a rush of relief, as slight as it was, realizing that the officer had waited for her, apparently, knowing my mother had no way of returning to her home.
Returning home, mother immediately called her Mom using a payphone near by. My dear Grammy, who resided in Michigan at the time upon hearing the devastating news of her eldest granddaughter, instinctively called “Dial a Prayer” through her church, UNITY. A forty-eight-hour vigil of prayers went out for a speedy recovery across the nation.
After two long agonizing days, mother was allowed to return to the hospital. Taking the car to drive herself to the hospital this time, mother bravely drove the forty-mile trip, praying all the while. Much to her amazement and sheer delight, Momma found me playing in a hospital crib with a small toy, no signs of ever having digested the deadly chemical. The blisters that had surrounded my lips and mouth two days earlier were non-existent. And although the area around my mouth was a deep pink, it showed no open wounds as before. Astonished and relieved, Momma whisked me into her arms with tears of joy flowing down her cheeks.
The doctor, following Momma in to my room proclaimed that my healing was indeed a miracle! Momma rejoiced, overcome with jubilation, and repeatedly thanked God. That day, I was released from the hospital, sore, but cured.
~
Years later, after returning to our home state of Michigan, I performed in a talent show in Junior High. I shall never forget as the audience applauded at the end of my solo, how I eagerly looked down from the high stage to see my mother weeping in her chair, with my sister and little brother at her side. Taking my final bow, Momma immediately stood up and smiled lovingly up at me.
Shortly after the show was over, Momma along with my younger brother and sister came behind the stage to greet me. After giving her a hug, I whispered, "Why are you crying?"
There in the hallway of my school, Momma, so overcome with emotion relived the events of the worst day of her life, explaining, that by singing as I had that evening was again confirmation in the power of prayer.
Although, I had heard the story of my accident and miraculous healing several times growing up, not until that evening had it meant so much to me. Finally, I had fully understood the true meaning of what my mom had tried to convey to me for all those years. Forgetting where I was, or who saw me tears welled up in my eyes too. I was overwhelmed with gratitude.
Now, decades later my feelings remain the same. And although many of my views on life have changed over the years, one thing remains constant and that is my belief in the God and the power of prayer. Thanks to God, and the power of prayer I am able to enjoy my life, completely and free from any ill effects from this incident. Clearly, I am living proof that God does listen to our prayers, just as I was taught as a child by my wise and loving Grandmother, and Mom.
This book is an autobiographical account of the lessons I learned about life and how I was able to apply them to inspire, motivate and empower others in my own work as a firefighter, as well in my daily life as a husband, a father and a man. When I w
Asa D Seeley, a young Afro American man, shares his struggle to leave his past behind as he reaches for his future. In his one-of-a-kind style, he searches for answers...from the visible & invisible. A Memoir in Poetical/Prose form.
