Answered prayer! God can change the hearts! And he is the Great Physician.

My dad is back in his rest home! They've released him from the hospital, a week before they said he would be out. He does NOT have to go to a nursing home where he would be housed like cordwood. We were very much afraid that he would be miserable. And he would have been. But he's back where he can garden. He has some plants growing in his room. He can do the things that he used to do! The doctors are astounded. They held out no hope of this happening. None of the administration seemed to want him to stay in his rest home. they said it would be too "dangerous" for him! I believe God worked on their hearts so they can see that his longevity is dependent on his activity. He's always been a very active, intellectual man. This will be a testimony to him of God's power. I think he was resigned to his fate. But he had so many people praying that he would be put back in to the home where he's staying now, and he knows it. He survived cancer due to the prayers of the Believers. Cancer free for 7 years! Now this! It's difficult to doubt anymore!

Thank you all for your prayers and good thoughts! You made a tangible difference and my father's life was in the balance. And you blessed me immeasurably. May you be blessed with the blessings that you have bestowed upon us!

☆♡☆♡☆ HALLELUJAH! ☆♡☆♡☆

I'm on the phone telling all my friends... I won't be on site tonight. But, Lord willing, I'll be back reading tomorrow ♡

LOVE YOU ALL!

♡ Catherine

... for not being on site as much as I probably should be. Some of you may know I have been going through some very difficult times. I do not write about these to elicit sympathy. I only want understanding and compassion. Thank you for reading this entire post.

My father was recuperating well, but it's now flagging in his resolve to live. He has almost entirely lost his hearing. He's losing his eyesight. And now he cannot talk. He had to have a trach put in because his vocal cords were frozen and he couldn't breathe. He requires 24-hour care. He cannot return to the high-functioning home where he was staying before. He will now have to go into a nursing home.

It is very hard to witness this. He is a survivor of the battle of Okinawa. He is a survivor of stage 3 throat cancer. Chemotherapy and radiation treatment at the age of 85. He is now 92. I just don't know if he can survive this. I just need to remember he lived a long rich life.

The biggest problem I'm having is that I know my father is not prepared for eternity. He refuses to even discuss the concept of God. He's always been an Atheist. He is a chemist. A scientist. And he was hurt very badly by religion when he was growing up. I have sown seeds, though. Perhaps the Lord will come to him in a dream or vision. I just don't know...

No matter what happens I am prepared. It is just very difficult, and I cannot concentrate very well. Also I and spending a lot more time in my spiritual practices, so please forgive me if I'm not on the site as much as I could be. It does not mean I don't love you... there are people that are on this site who I pray for on a daily basis. I blanket this site with prayer. There are some who might not believe in the power of this, but I have seen miracles happen right here on this site. A young man was cured of malaria just a couple of weeks ago. Prayer is the most loving and powerful thing anyone can do for another person.
I DO IT FOR YOU ALL.

Thank you for reading.

♡ Catherine

A rose, they say, will have its thorn,
Which cannot harm nor kill,
It only serves to give its bloom
A scent that's sweeter still.

SøułSurvivør
(C) 12/23/2002

It's 1:30am. I must sleep. Goodnight! :)

There's noises in the dark, they're keeping me on edge,
the scars have made their mark, a result from all I pledge.
I'm waiting for disaster, but it's always coming in a disguise,
I wish that time would go by faster, I'm counting days by the skies.

Oh, I know I went brain numb,
my wits were just going to waste.
Like a hand without a thumb,
like a tongue that cannot taste.

I'm seeing dreams while I'm awake, and it's making me lose sleep.
A soul can bend, but can it break? And can dry eyes still weep?
Sitting behind three locked doors and I still fail to feel safe,
I hear cracking above on the floors,
my skin is raw and my ears chafe.

Oh, I know I've become uptight,
my shoulders will never again slack.
Like two eyes without sight,
like a spine without a back.

"Just because you're paranoid,
doesn't mean they're not after you."
Everything around you has been destroyed,
but they tell you that isn't true.

Oh, I know I've lost control,
but it was already falling apart.
Like a life without a soul,
like a body without a heart.

"Just because you're paranoid, doesn't mean they're not after you" - Kurt Cobain, Territorial Pissings.

And so,
That year,
The rain
Had forgotten to fall,

Winter slept-through its season,
It didn't hear Autumn's
Wake-up call.

Winter was oblivious
To the Earth's changing position
With regard to the sun,

This was made completely obvious
When the likes of Spring
Prematurely sprung.

Winter's time
Was well and truly
Over and done,

Winter
Was over
Before it had even begun.


By Lady R.F. (C)2017

This piece is all that's left from my memory,
I accidentally deleted the original poem I had written.
I guess, the poem, as beautiful as it was,
was like that winter, it was over before it even begun!

I hate the feeling when I lose a poem - it's so sad.

She wore a dress cut from the night sky
scattered with stars and dreams
and her smile
had a mischievous curve at each end
and a hint of magic glittered
in the colors surrounding her eyes
and she spoke in a voice
that echoed with the beauty of poetry
and he was tempted to crawl away
from the shyness that lived in his bones
and he managed to make small talk
but fell short of bravery
and slunk into the night without stars
and a dream that knew only her name

Buttoned-up sunshine silhouette
draped in early evening fantasy
captured in aromatic ecstasy
  
let me  
  
d    e
o     a
  w     s
    n     y  
  
let me  
wander  
in your  
  
b r
       e e
               z e
  
Drips of cinnamon touch
the true taste of innocence  
and her lips melt atop
burning gasoline jet streams
  
b
   l
     o
        w
           n
  
across the sheets of time
with the corners holding me still
sunsets wink good night

i have my own weird story about Princess Diana. when she passed in August twenty years ago, i was living in western Nebraska. i loved my little job with a little family-owned motel near the base of the Scottsbluff National Monument. i remember thinking the day she died,
i've got to remember this. for whatever reason, i gazed at the heavens during a break in a little nook Clyde and Mary made for smokers. the sky
was baby blue, the clouds were clustered puffs of white, the sun was high noon, as perfect golden as any child could draw in primary colors all. i thought of Princess Di
dead. it truly was sad, how she went, the circumstantial evidence of a royalty marred by passive-aggressiveness by her in-laws. so many people die every day. some are famous, most are not.
Why
her death affected me i just figured it was mostly because she was female, like me, and because she was such a shining light,
a true beauty in presentation of how great human beings can be when we follow our hearts, even if we are mocked or disparaged. she was an example, maybe, of someone who did rise
above it all. i took those moments that day to think about her briefly and then went back to work. then at night,
the dreams began coming about a month after she died in France. in one of them, she and i
talked at length in a treehouse together, with a flashlight between us, fireflies and stars our partners, truly a storybook kind of scene and in another, she was bloody, quiet
and i was the one mostly talking, telling her things would be all right as i tried to wipe the scarlet from her face. in still another dream, she was acting as though she was a lifelong friend and not a princess at all.
it was a mash of dreams from the heart of a woman only 31 years old, me, and she was running around in my psyche. i remember telling a few people about my dreams of Princess Diana.  
well later, in October,
i found out i was pregnant and the date of conception mirrored the day she died, right around that time, within one week, no more. the baby daddy found it wild. we both recalled late August well, for our own life events and for the funeral of a princess in England, the motherland of so many. at odd moments over the years, i
have recalled the closeness of her untimely death and then the heavensent and sweet birth of my little blond girl, the latter a long time dream come true.
i'm not suggesting anything mystical. it's one of those weird things in life that has discernible thought-worthy components. my daughter, like Diana, is beautiful.

Julia, one of many, many babies conceived in late August, 1997.
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