I Wish I Could Believe
I can’t tell you how many times people have said to me, “I wish I could believe, I wish I had your faith.” It often surprises me to realize that people see me as a woman of faith when I grew up with no real faith at all. At age 18, I didn’t know if I believed in God, I certainly didn’t believe in miracles and I never thought much about spirits or what happens after we die. Thinking about death scared me and if it wasn’t for the fact that I was desperately ill, I would not have ventured into spirituality at all.
I grew up a Jersey Girl in the suburbs of Essex County in a home that was devoid of spirituality and mysticism of any kind. By the time I was a teenager in the mid- 1960’s I was convinced that there was “the real world” in which I had my existence and that everything else was pure fantasy. The fairy tales of my childhood were to be left behind and with that the idea of miracles as well. I remember accepting this sad and colorless interpretation of life and feeling as if a part of me had died, and yet, to my mind real was real, and I knew the difference!
These beliefs were held firmly by both my family and myself, and so when I was afflicted with Crohn’s Disease at the age of 16, we pursued no other course of treatment outside of traditional medical science. It was what we trusted. We placed all our hopes on my doctors to supply us with a cure. Little did we know that from 1967 to 1969 my disease would grow in severity while we pursued medical treatment to the exclusion of anything else.
By the summer of 1969 I had descended into the depths of hell, suffering more from this debilitating disease than I had ever conceived possible. At the same time I contracted Hepatitis C from blood transfusions administered during one of two emergency surgeries. By 1970 the first symptoms of the Hepatitis C surfaced and eventually I was diagnosed with Chronic Hepatitis. I was dumbfounded to comprehend that I had another disease with the potential to become more severe over time. My doctors encouraged my parents to give money to research because they believed that in the absence of a cure, I would not live past another 10 years. This prognosis was made in 1971.
I had heard about Harry Edwards, a British spiritual healer, in 1968. At the time I couldn’t believe what I had heard. It didn’t fit into my concept of “the real world” and I saw no reason to consider it. I simply could not imagine how some man in Britain could so “something” over there that would have an effect on me who was all the way across the Atlantic Ocean. I just couldn’t conceive of it.
I admit that the concept still sounded very far-fetched to me in 1971, however something was significantly different about me by 1971. Suffering had humbled me and shook my confidence. I was no longer the girl who thought she knew so much about life and while I didn’t believe in spiritual healing or miracles, I realized that I didn’t believe in a lot of the things that had happened to me, but they had happened. All of a sudden it dawned on me that just because I didn’t believe in something didn’t make it not so and that I clearly had nothing to lose in trying. Shortly there after, I made contact with the Harry Edwards Spiritual Healing Sanctuary in Guildford, Surrey, England and was instructed to write a letter and describe the condition for which I sought healing. It really sounded like a pipe dream to me yet I wrote my letter anyway, and my father who was going to England on business hand-delivered it into the hands of Mr. Harry Edwards.
Forty-eight hours after my father handed Mr. Edwards my letter, I had so much energy I was flying! There was no doubt in my mind that something was happening, because of the feeling of energy that everywhere pervaded my body. For a young woman who had been sick for four years, this was a new and wonderful feeling. I was not only energized physically but I was also uplifted emotionally, as if imbued with a new, strong sense of optimism! Within weeks my blood tests showed dramatic improvement. Over the next six-month period my physical health was restored but the quest for understanding had just began.
The first thing I wanted to know was how did this “healing” take place? I was still dumbfounded as to how Harry Edwards could have helped me with us separated by the Atlantic Ocean!
Fortunately we live in a day and age where books and recordings are readily available and so I began my spiritual studies by delving into books written by Harry Edwards himself. I was surprised to learn that Mr. Edwards only credited himself with a small part of the healing, that of being the messenger. He credited the greater part of the healing to spirits, who he referred to as “spirit doctors.” According to Harry, it was these spirits who were responsible for carrying out the healing. This was shocking news to me, since I wasn’t sure I believed in spirits, but I could not dismiss the experience of energy that came to me from out of nowhere and turned my life around for the better!
Harry explained that time and space, as we know them, do not exist in the spirit realm which makes it possible for a spirit to be any where in no time. This explained how the healing could have reached me “trans-Atlantically.” Because my healing experience had demonstrated to me the presence of unseen energy, I could now imagine that within this unseen energy there could be a world of spirit. I could think of no other explanation for the healing that had taken place in my body, nor did I have any reason to mistrust this gentle man who had done more for me than all the k3cings horses and all the kings men and we had some pretty top horses and men in our camp!
So herein lie the origins of my faith. Until this happened, I had no faith. I was one of those people who didn’t believe and didn’t even wish that she could. I prided myself on being a logical, reasoning person and I thought people who believed in miracles were a little off. But I couldn’t deny my own experience, both the feeling of the energy and the results that were viewable in my physical body and blood tests! And so, I became a believer. I wasn’t sure a believer of what, but I knew from that time on, there was more to life than what I could perceive with my five senses.
As a result, I set out to learn everything I could about those things that I could not see. I was hungry to understand how all of this worked. I started out by reading about spiritual healing and mediums, those people who could communicate with beings in that invisible world. I moved on to taking classes with mediums and booking sessions with mediums on a regular bases and the more I investigated, the more evidence I found to substantiate the continuation of life after death.
To all those who say, “I wish I could believe” I say INVESTIGATE. Don’t just sit back and wish. If you are mourning a loved one seek connection with him or her through spirit. In the following pages I will share with you the events and details that have convinced me that Dan exists and the many means through which connection has been made.