Vol. 37 No. 33 - I AM the Witness

Vol. 37 No. 33 - I AM the Witness - August 14, 1994

I AM the Witness

An Angel Diagnoses Breast Cancer

My faith took a sudden leap in October ‘90 when I awoke in the middle of the night with my hand wrapped around my breast, my fingers grasping a four-inch tumor. I felt an angelic presence next to me at my bedside. “Wake up! We have work to do!” was the message. I was instantly awake, every cell of my body alert.

My life had been guided by the Holy Spirit for many years as a Mormon, and I was used to receiving messages and instruction from the Holy Spirit. But this was different. My first thought was, “This is not going to be fun. It’s cancer and it’s going to be hard.”

It was true. It was cancer and it was hard.

I was healed. One reason I got well is because I took charge of the situation totally, taking complete responsibility for my body and what was happening to it. By the grace of God, I had made peace with my Lord and was unafraid of passing beyond the veil.

Another reason I got well is because I enjoyed myself. After the initial shock of the diagnosis and trauma of the surgery, I saw the disease as a challenge. It was an opportunity to do things I had always wanted to do but had never allowed myself to do.

I indulged in eating only organic macrobiotic food, in meditating daily without fail, in receiving massages to keep the lymphatic system flowing, and in surrounding myself with only supportive influences. My children said they had never seen anyone enjoy cancer as much as I was enjoying it. And it was true. I awoke each day filled with the glory of God, grateful for the new day and all it afforded me...and I got well.

And along the way, from time to time I felt again that angelic vibration that had awakened me in the middle of the night in October. It seemed to be leading me onward.

It was the day before the surgery. My immune system had crashed in the first forty-eight hours after the diagnosis, not unusual for cancer patients. I was not digesting food and was sleeping only two or three hours at night. My husband and I had spent the morning getting legal affairs in order. I had a doctor’s appointment in the afternoon. It was part of the research I had promised family members I would do to be sure I had explored all options for treatment.

I lay down on the bed to rest, and for the first time the thought ran through my mind, “Do I have the strength to go to this appointment?” My husband was changing clothes, moving quietly about the room.

Perhaps it was a legion of angels, I do not know. But a number, as many as twenty, came toward me. It seemed that I was raised up off the bed about eight inches as they approached. It could have been my etheric body, I am not sure. But the angels ministered to me, lined up on both sides, ever so gently moving their hands in waves over my body. I felt great love flowing to me and a strong bond of familiarity. I tried to recognize who they were and was not able to, but I knew that I knew them well and loved them very much. As they withdrew, it seemed that I was lowered back to the bed.

“What has happened?” my husband asked.

“Come here by the bed and I’ll tell you,” I replied after recovering my voice. He knelt beside me and I told him what had occurred. He was silent as we shared the spirit that filled the room.

As I roused myself to go to the appointment, I realized I was strong and light as a feather. The angels had come to strengthen me. I negotiated my interview with the oncologist with finesse and sailed through the surgery the next day.

Two weeks later I was in Salt Lake City browsing through a Deseret Bookstore on Temple Square. I found The Lost Years of Jesus by Elizabeth Clare Prophet, published by Summit University Press in Montana. One copy. Bottom shelf. Almost hidden. Beckoning.

It was a subject of great interest to me. I had already read the little that had been published on the subject by other authors. I read the book in one sitting, ecstatic over the detailed account of the seventeen years of the Saviour’s life missing from the New Testament. The Holy Spirit worked through that book.

There was a card in the book with an order form and list of other books published by the same Summit University Press. My budget allowed me $200, and so I sent off the card with my check for $200. I wrote on the card that I knew nothing and wanted them to select the books.

The next week I went to my doctor for an immune system booster shot and found my regular doctor replaced by another doctor. I was very fragile that day. My condition was considered Stage III cancer—not good.

As I entered the office, my shoulder hit the door frame. “I seem disoriented today,” I said. “I probably shouldn’t be driving.”

“You are the patient with breast cancer, aren’t you? You’re all right. You just need to have your chakras balanced. I can do that for you. Just climb up on the table here and relax.”

Since I had practiced meditation techniques for many years, I knew that chakras are the seven energy centers of the body from the base of the spine to the crown of the head. But it seemed unusual for a medical doctor to accept their existence.

The doctor instructed me: “As you breathe out release all grief, anger, despair, fear you may have in your being. As you inhale take in only joy, light, peace and healing.”

Tears rolled down my temples as I felt the release of the negative energies and sweet peace filled my being. I was floating in a state of blissful healing. Samadhi.

I thought of the blessing I had received earlier from both my husband and my church counsellor. They had each given me a blessing within a day of one another around the time of the diagnosis. The same words had come forth from each of them, although they were not aware of the other’s blessing: “There will be loving doctors along the way to assist you in your healing.” Here certainly was an exceptionally kind and loving soul. He seemed filled with light.

As I climbed down from the table I felt very strong and stable. Gratitude welled within me. “I can’t thank you enough for being here and doing this for me today,” I said.

“It was my privilege. Any doctor can give you a shot. There was tremendous love coming to you through my hands from the other side of the veil. You are undoubtedly a member of the Great White Brotherhood,” the doctor said.

Mormons wear white in the temples and are a great brotherhood but I felt he was describing a different organization. I wondered about his words. He would not take any money for the appointment. I had been there forty-five minutes. Not another soul came into the office that entire time, a very strange circumstance on a normally busy Saturday morning. Was he another angel?

The next week when I returned for my shot I asked my regular doctor about him. “Oh, that doctor was here only a day and a half. He is from Europe.” And that was all he said.

I felt sound as a bell as I returned home, ringing with the joy of being alive and having the great blessing of being chosen to walk this path. I was shedding an old garment and taking on a new as my body was being healed. The organic macrobiotic diet I had chosen was rigorous, but it was filling my cells with the light and energy needed, and I didn’t care whether anybody else ate the way I ate or ridiculed my actions. The tumor had been removed and the oncologist never hired. I was through a crisis.

“The books you ordered from Montana have arrived,” my husband said as I walked in the house. I opened the large box sitting on the tile in the front hall. My heart missed a beat as I saw the title on the first book: The Great White Brotherhood.

I read and read and read. It became part of my therapy, day and night, until all the books were read. It was a feast! My soul hungered for the knowledge in them. They contained a release of knowledge long awaited, some of which the Mormons have but much of which is knowledge they have been told is “yet to be revealed.” I bear witness that it is here—it is being revealed in Montana and angels are delivering it!

Before long I was in Montana investigating the work of the staff and Keepers of the Flame and becoming one with them. I had moved from one “great white brotherhood” to another “great white brotherhood,” but the more I research the more I understand that it is all one brotherhood united in purpose, and therein lies our strength.

May we always respond to angels when they arrive in our lives, for surely angels came and got me and moved me from one point of faith to another.

In the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.

The Protective Power of the Violet Flame

Dear Mother,

I would like to witness to the protective power of the violet flame.

About ten years ago, I was a fairly new Keeper. I had been to Summit University and had been decreeing a few years. It was Christmas time and my employer was hosting the company’s annual Christmas party. My boss told me that the entertainer would be a psychic who would read everyone’s mind.

I felt I had to go to this party, but I did not want my mind read by anyone, especially by a psychic Peeping Tom. So, the night of the party, while I was driving my car, I made lots of calls, especially for my tube of light.

Toward the end of the evening, after most people had had a few drinks, the psychic sat in the center of the circle of guests. He spoke to each person individually, correctly naming and identifying various family members, sometimes telling factual stories about a recent incident in someone’s life. When he got to me, however, he made a vague comment and quickly moved on to the next person. Again, he continued “reading” the other people’s lives with great detail.

The next working day, I asked my boss if the psychic had said why he skipped over me. He said, “The psychic said that it was easy to read the other people’s minds. Their thoughts were dangling in their auras, hanging around the outer edges. But not yours. When he looked at your aura, all he could see was a violet light.”

Thank you, Saint Germain, for the gift of the violet flame. By the power of the violet flame, no one who decrees need fear anything—not astral forces, not entities, not aliens, not even “things that go bump in the night.” God’s light is truly our guide, our buckler and our shield.

I AM grateful,

With love,

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