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A MIRACLE FOR JASPER

My ferret, Jasper, had started his day out as any normal ferret,feeling loved and safe and very playful.  Before long, my husband and I notice that Jasper had become very lethargic and not responding to normal stimuli.  I had already lost one ferret much too early in his life and fear shot through us.  We watched Jasper in shifts all through the night until we could get him into see a vet.  We were positive he had eaten some kind of medication, most likely ibruprofen. 

My husband has left me some ibruprofen in my desk drawer and had forgotten to shut the drawer. I remember finding Jasper playing in there.  Well, we got him to the vet the next day and was told he had a 50/50 chance of surviving.  Ibuprofen is fatal to ferrets.  Thank God that they accepted payment arrangements! I had to leave Jasper there the whole weekend.  He had lost most his body weight and was severely dehydrated.  The vet had to rehydrate him through IV's.

My husband was so upset believing all was his fault if Jasper didn't survive. He became suicidal at this point facing the possible loss of our baby.  We prayed all weekend, plus sending out numerous prayer requests to everyone we knew.  I truly believed that God would heal my little Jasper...I never doubted it.  But, oh how I missed him.  Monday came and we brought him home and kept him hydrated with pedialyte and fed him gerber baby food.

I prayer over him, anointed him with oil and prayed for his healing from this ordeal. Praise the Lord! Jasper gradually came around, regained all his weight and is back to his playful, sweet little ferret self.  God not only healed my baby, but saved my husband from committing suicide.  Two lives were spared by the grace and GLORY of God!!

I can NEVER doubt God's loving power and healing. I watched them with my own eyes being touched by God Almighty!!

A FRIEND'S TESTIMONY

 

"Things happen to me,

So that things can happen in me,

So that things can happen through me."

For reasons I do not understand I feel the need to tell my stories. Not of my worth of my "usefulness". Not of Love or of earthly tragedy. These will be stories of struggle and redemption, failure and salvation. The on going story of God’s work in my life. I am 22 as I begin this, but he has done so much that I don’t think I can remember it all. Why this would be useful or needed, I don’t know. Somehow I feel that this will be useful to someone. Perhaps it is meant to help my husband, a friend, a brother or sister in Chris, or even me… I really have no idea. But my heart cries out to tell these stories. My life is not magnificent by any means. I’ve never been a "perfect" Christian, most of these stories will begin with some failure on my part, however, that makes Him more glorious and His power more evident. Perhaps I am a fool, thinking that I can find words to adequately describe these events, or thinking that some experience I’ve had could impact anyone… but only God knows…

Father, I feel you leading me to do this. Why I do not know but I know you do. Father help me to remember with clarity the events you wish me to recall. Help me to tell these stories truthfully and thoroughly… so that others can truly experience what happened. Give me perseverance to stick to this and do it well and when the time comes, Let me not be afraid to share these stories. Let some good come from this, Lord. Father I pray for whom ever you intend to read this. Lord let all that is of you stay with them… and anything that is of me fall to the ground as dead. Father speak to them through me what ever they need to know or learn Father let it shine through and may they never forget.

Thank you Lord for what you are going to do!

In your Name AMEN

 

 

 

I have always heard that you should start your testimony by describing who you were before you knew the Lord. That for me is not a difficult or complicated task. I was raise Roman Catholic. I’ve never doubted God’s existence or what He’s done for us. My family is exceedingly Catholic, which has been both a blessing and a curse for me. (this is a story in and of itself.) As much as being Catholic is incredibly important to my family, I don’t remember getting many of my values from my family. No long talks or discussions. Things just were the way they were. Church every Sunday, Advent wreaths and Lenten fasting, holidays and High mass, The works. It wasn’t questioned. Looking back it seems that my parents wouldn’t have had any answers to give had I though to ask questions.

Almost everything I learned of Christ, morals, and the like came from church and school… St. Catherine’s. A tiny parish and school in a neighborhood that was slipping away. Most of my childhood memories involve that place. Mostly because I spent the entirety of my "school career" there till I started high school. Religion class was a daily event, either taught by a teacher or one of the parish priests. It really wasn’t a spiritual thing more like a history class - This IS what happened - Making sure we believed what we were supposed to believe. Every year it was pretty much the same until we reached the seventh grade, and unusual things started happening. A new teacher was hired to teach the seventh grade and math to all of the middle school. Mrs. Heartly was retiring, much to the relief of my class. She was known as hard as nails and she terrified all of us. So the news of a new teacher was a tremendous relief to us. What we didn’t realize was how the new teacher would impact us.

Miss Mary Jean Wolak came to us as a fresh young face. She was only 27 and that alone made us excited. We thought she’d be so much more relaxed and fun than the "old ladies" who’d taught us for the previous 7 years. For the most part we were right. She was a bright and happy person, she was the first to help me actually understand math. My parents will tell you that she got me to do my home work and that I actually got an A in math unlike every other year before or since. But of course that’s not why she stands out in my memory. There is a very specific reason she still is my favorite teacher.

That year they decided to try and make our seventh and eighth grade years more like high school by having us alternating class rooms for various subjects. Mrs. Zabinski taught science; Mrs. Jagmin, English; Social studies was taught by Ms Uhen; and of course Miss Wolak taught Math. Instead of "home room" we started each day with Religion class. Miss Wolak taught the entire seventh grade class every morning which in and of its self wasn’t unusual. What was unusual was that Miss Wolak wasn’t Catholic. She called herself Christian - without denomination, something we didn’t think was possible. It struck us as odd that she was excited to teach us about God. Her eyes just sparkled whenever we discussed things. She didn’t really teach. Religion was suddenly no longer boring and repetitious but became more and more interesting. Her enthusiasm was something we were largely unfamiliar with. We didn’t understand why she didn’t make the Sign of the Cross before she prayed or how it was that she prayed as if she was talking to someone she knew. She made us memorize verses from the bible. Which was completely new, and she played us "church music" that was upbeat and fun! These weren’t little kid bible songs either, she told us they sang these at her church. She sang and prayed with her eyes closed and her hands open and slightly raised. We noticed a lot of little things like that everyday. We knew she was different but we couldn’t figure out what made her different.

One day she came to class and sat down on the front of her desk - when ever she did that she came across more of a friend we were chatting with than our teacher. But something was different this day. She was almost nervous and uneasy. She told us that she had something she wanted to talk to us about. She talked about prayer and church asking how we felt we did such things. She asked if we’d noticed the different ways she did certain things and of course we had. She was the only person who acted the way she did as she prayed or sang. She began to explain what made her different. And we were all captivated well I know I was.

She told us that, since we were only a year from high school, we were old enough to start thinking about religion in our own terms. We were getting to the point where it was time to decide or at least start really thinking about what we believed. I don’t think many of us had ever really questioned what our parents and teachers had taught us. But then again, having an adult say we should ask questions made us feel responsible and empowered… even a bit grown up.

She told us that faith was something God gave us. And if we had faith that was wonderful, but there was so much more. She said praying and going to church wasn’t all there was to being a believer in God. She said it was possible to know God much more deeply than that. In fact, He wanted us to know Him personally. How strange! The words God and personal in the same sentence. He wanted not only to be our God but our Savior father and best friend. This was so completely foreign to us. We were raised to think that the saints prayers were more listened to than ours, to fear God as unapproachable and distant, that only confessing to a priest could bring forgiveness of sins… and so many other things that were directly contrary to what she was telling us. Amazingly, she told us that we didn’t need to stop being Catholic, we didn’t have to change how we prayed if we didn’t want to, there wasn’t any long involved class or ceremony to go through. TO have this personal relationship, with Jesus alive in our hearts, and our best friend… all we had to do was ask.

I couldn’t believe it. I was shocked to find there was so much more to having faith than anyone had ever told me. How wonderful to have Jesus walking with you everyday. To be able to talk to Him as I talked to my best friends. How could I ask for such a thing? Why would He want to know me? She said that if we asked God to come into our lives and change our hearts He would begin to do amazing things in our lives. I remember her eyse welled up with tears as she told us how amazing His love was for each of us and how he wanted to know us one on one. He wanted to be apart of our everyday lives. If we asked and truly believed that he was God and that Jesus died for each of us that He would be with us forever. I was excited! Who could be a better friend than Jesus? I wanted this so much I couldn’t stand it, so when she asked us to pray along with her if we wanted that personal relationship I tried to pray as hard as I could.

Being twelve or thirteen I expected drama… Harps or a bright light or something extraordinary telling me God had heard me… but nothing happened. Miss Wolak told us that we could pray at home when were alone if we wished that praying with someone wasn’t important but that we should tell someone later on. So that night I prayed again I asked over and over thinking maybe I did it wrong the first time and He didn’t think I was sincere or something.

The next day Miss Wolak assured us that God did hear us. That He doesn’t always work in miracles, mostly He took His time working in our lives. With that comfort I stopped expecting some divine intervention to explode into my life. Yet something astonishing was about to happen that was nothing I ever expected.

Late that night I was standing in front of my mirror, brushing my hair as I did every night before bed. This is where the story becomes difficult to tell…

As I stood there, My room seemed to slip into a strange darkness as if the lights had dimmed or a haze had fallen, but I knew that wasn’t what happened something was very wrong. It seemed colder and I felt a shiver down my spine. A horrid feeling came over me as my room felt vile and disgusting - an evil so intense that I can’t even begin to describe it.

I felt a strong hand grasp my left wrist and thrust it down to my side and squeeze till I was forced to drop my hair brush. I could feel the hand, the long fingers, but there was nothing there. It hurt so much but I couldn’t see it. Another hand snatched my right wrist and both my hands forced to my sides and held there while yet another set of hands pressed on my shoulders with such strength that I dropped to my knees. I trembled in fear, I had no idea what was happening. I wanted to scream I tried so hard, my mind raced trying to figure out how to… but no sound would come, I couldn’t even move my lips. I stayed there, trapped by four unseen hands, trembling for what seemed like hours without end. I could almost hear something like laughter or maniacal whispers float passed my ears. The air in my room was so vile and thick I could hardly breathe.

As quickly as it began, suddenly I realized I could move and the "presence" was gone. I leapt onto my bed and curled up into a ball against the wall; clutching my knees to my chest, eyes darting around the room. My heart felt like it wanted to bound right out of my chest and I gasped for air. I began to weep and my mind raced… What had just happened? I didn’t believe in ghosts - should I have? Was this some effect of my new relationship with God? Wasn’t He supposed to be with me? Protecting me? Thousands of questions like this came to mind. Finally I pleaded "God what have I done? Why did this happen? Help me, Please!" Immediately comfort and peace filled me, I felt like a child in her fathers arms. Held by invisible arms, strong and protective, while my fear slipped away. I fell asleep feeling warm and safe.

I woke the next morning completely rested. It only took a moment for me to remember what happened the night before… Had it been a dream? It was all so real… but it couldn’t have been… things like that just didn’t happen. Before I crawled out of bed I had convinced myself it was a dream… Until I stood up and my knees ached horribly. I looked down to see terrible bruises where I had hit the ground the night before. By the time I was dressed I had decided I couldn’t tell anyone, especially not my parents. They would think I was lying or that I was completely insane.

Everyone who saw me that morning asked if I was ok. Mom said I looked pale, My friends though I was sick. I passed it off as nothing and told them I hadn’t slept well the night before (which wasn’t true I have never slept better before or since).

As I mentioned earlier every school day started with religion class. And so I began to debate… should I tell Miss Wolak? What on earth would I say? Would she believe me? Would the rest of the class hear about it and laugh at me? I had no idea what to do.

Miss Wolak started the class by sitting on the front of her desk. She had decided that we would to something a bit different that morning. She wanted us to get into small groups of our friends. We could talk about anything we wanted to but she encouraged us to use the time to talk about anything that may be bothering us. She told us that she had the feeling that some of us needed an opportunity to do that. She couldn’t have been more right.

It took us no time at all to split up in to our groups. Jamie, Cheri and Phil, my three best friends were gathered near the front of the room with a chair waiting by the time I had gotten up the courage to stand up. I don’t remember what any of them talked about, I don’t know if I ever heard them. Finally I was the only one who hadn’t spoken, they all knew I had something on my mind and it took them a while to convince me that I should tell them. I was terrified, so sure that they weren’t going to believe me. I stared at the floor and told them every detail… When I finished I looked up at their faces. They were completely shocked. With tears welling up in my eyes I told them that I knew they wouldn’t believe me. One at a time each of them said they did and then tried to show me that I had to tell Miss Wolak. She’d know what to say, she’d know what happened. They called her over and again I explained what had happened… hoping she wouldn’t think I was lying.

She put her arms around me and hugged me. She looked deep into my eyes and told me everything was ok she did believe me. She explained that God has a plan for each of our lives and by asking God in to my heart he was starting to put that plan in to full swing. She said each person was vital to God’s plan but some have more in pact than others. She said that the same force that tempts us also tries to prevent us from doing what God has in store for us She said the force knew God had plans for me and decide I was a threat, that it had to try and stop me from believing and following Gods will. I had something great to do something the devil was trying disparately to prevent me from doing. She laid her hands on me and prayed She asked my friends to pray as well. As she prayed she thanked God for me and my new found faith and ask him to place a hedge of protection.

Even today it’s amazing to me. That as a 12 or 13 year old girl I was such a threat. I know there are others who have had to deal with more severe spiritual attack. But that experience was enough to impress on me that our actions as Christians are very important. And that someday each of us would do something that the devil would try to block. Every time I am faced with an opportunity to share Christ or I am fast with a difficult situation I wonder if this was the reason the devil thought me such a threat. Or if it is yet to come. I don’t think I’ll know until I get to ask my savior face to face. Even when the devil tries to tell me I’m useless that I’m unworthy to be used for Gods purpose… I remember what he tried to do to me that night. And I am reminded what a liar he is and not only do I know that God will use me but that I am important some how as each and every soldier of Christ is and will always be.

Elisabeth's testimony below:

http://amightywind.com/elisabeth/whoisese.htm

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