Coronavirus Curse Or Blessing?

As with all things these days seem to be evolving into pictures, no scratch that, masterpieces of creative beauty, which are only possible through the direct hand strokes of God Himself, I find myself seeing more and more the absolute creative nature of God in every single day unfolding.

Now how could anyone in their right mind possibly make that statement in light of the COVID-19 or Coronavirus attack, with its resulting worldwide pandemic effect, or in other words; how could anyone possibly look at this and apply the singular simple Biblical truth that “God can turn all trials or storms into good if we but look to Him?”

Well, I can sight at least one example my beautiful wife Anna noticed almost from the very first day the shutdown took place in our home town of Phoenix Arizona.

In Phoenix, almost exactly to the day our Great President Donald Trump ordered the flight restrictions from Europe and other places known to be afflicted with the virus, as well as advised people simply to begin to stay at home from schools or start “self quarantining measures,” it began to rain.

The rain itself is not by most people considered a blessing, but for most of us in Phoenix, it’s usually looked upon as a blessing from God considering the fact that we sit in the desert and most of the time do without it for most of the days of the year. This particular year we have, although, had quite a nice share of consistent rainfall that has, as a result, turned the normal late winter or desert into early spring of blossoming green.

One might call this a blessing, and I am sure it is, but that is not the “Blessing” I am talking about in connection with the Corona Pandemic?

What I am talking about, and what my wife noticed almost the first day of the shutdown, was a sort of “Quietness” that has suddenly and most distinctively touched the Earth? A sort of stillness or even a degree of “Peace” which has suddenly, and most distinguishably been added to the mix.   

As we looked around our garden, we noticed almost overnight an immediate blooming of almost all of the plants in our garden, many of which we had no idea they might even begin to bloom, and certainly not this early in the year.

Now, to be honest, we do have a particularly unique garden for Phoenix, my wife being of European origin, and us both loving particularly Tuscany Italy, we have to a degree mimicked our own garden more towards the Tuscan look than one would ever expect in the rural of the Phoenix desert. Our yard is grass, with trees not exactly indicative of the region; Oak, Elm, Olive Trees, Nuts, and Fruits, even Papaya and Guava, some of which usually don’t weather well the cold, and when they do come back, usually have to sprout nearly from the root to return, but that’s not the case this year?

Many people have told us we have a bit of a “Magical Garden” or what I like to call “God’s Secret Garden,” but that too is mostly due to the fact that my wife would pray for the water when she water’s the trees, and even at times quietly speaks to the vegetables and plants as she cares for them. She even sliced up one of her favorite tomato’s last year and planted it in the flower bed next to our pool, from that single tomato slice we had the whole flower bed full of tomato vines along the side of the pool, even dangling into the pool. The kids would pick them and eat them while they swam, many people said they were the most delicious tomatoes they had ever tasted. I believe that it was God’s simple answer to my wife’s prayers when she blessed the water.

Like I said, we almost immediately began to see a rapid and complete blossoming of our garden from the very moment that the first days’ rain of the shutdown came, even the tomato plant started blooming again!

The world seemed almost immediately to have become “Quieter,” the air seemed fresher, cleaner, and yes, that is always the case after the rain, but this was different, there was an undeniable fresher smell in the air, and a cleaner quieter feeling to everything around?

The very next day my wife looking around the garden in the now clearing sky as the rain subsided, noticed there seemed to be less traffic noise and no sounds of airplanes rumbling in the skies? And while I knew that the President had ordered restrictions from Europe, I was not aware that reductions of any domestic flights had taken place yet. I looked up myself and couldn’t see any signs of flights of any kind in the air.

She was right the world had seemed to be cleaner and quieter?

We, like others, began to find things to do at home, now that we would be spending more time here? For us, thinking about what to do meant deciding what we would have to get today at the store for dinner or perhaps call our family back in Europe to see how they were doing in these newfound restrictions?

For me, this means having a quiet call with my Mentor in Pagosa Springs Peter Laue, the godliest man I know, who happens to live in one of the godliest places on Earth.  Seeing how things are going there, possibly report what we have seen here, especially the newfound quietness that we seem to have suddenly discovered.

I was amazed to hear they too have seen the almost exact experience there. Now granted Pagosa Springs is high up in the Colorado mountain’s and Peter’s house on the lake is always peaceful, but he too had to admit something has seemed to have changed, and God has ushered in an most undeniable portion of “Peacefulness” into the world?

Even as we spoke, Peter notices something moving just outside his window? He gets up and looks and sees what looks like an ear moving, Sitting there right next to the to his house was a deer, just laying there, resting looking at him. I asked him; “have you ever had one lay so close to the house?”

“Never, in all the years has one laid so close to our house, or laid down for that matter in the yard.” He said with such excitement. I asked him to take a picture, but unfortunately not having a cell phone he couldn’t take a picture, that’s ok, we would just have to enjoy the moment together over the phone.

Luckily, a friend came over a couple hours later and she did have a cell phone and was able to take a picture, which he sent to me. When I showed it to my wife Anna, she immediately reacted; “That’s a miracle, look there are no signs of tracks to where the deer is laying? It looks like it just appeared there when you were talking. I believe it’s a miracle. God’s Peace!”

Later that same day I went to the store and I must say I was shocked to see the immediate result at the grocery store, as people began to clear the shelves from what they clearly seemed to be necessities such as toilet paper, hand sanitizers, and bread, but nothing else?

I remember thinking to myself how stupid could people be? I don’t know how much bread a person can store in their freezer, but I certainly could not keep more than a couple loaves for a few days without it getting stale? But hotdog and hamburger buns being suddenly gone, that is just crazy! And how much of a life’s necessity is wiping your butt if and when food suddenly disappears from the shelves?

But God is always faithful to provide.

An almost Godly occurrence; our good friends Karen and Lukasz only just visited us a few weeks earlier, and Lukasz presented us with a homemade bread he had baked himself. My wife, being from Europe, has on more than one occasion sent me on a quest to find a truly good loaf of sourdough locally that can come close to the ones she would get daily from local small bakers in Amsterdam. This for me meant at times I needed to make that twenty-plus mile round trip drive to Wildflower Bakery to get something decent.

But when we tasted Lukasz’s bread, and he told us the recipe was simple, something you can make the same day in your own home with simple ingredients, I asked him to send me the instructions. So why not try it now in light of the great American hamburger and hotdog bun shortage, gathering the necessary ingredients to try it for my self?

Needless to say, I wasn’t the first to think of it, because flour and more importantly yeast seemed to be in short supply, but luckily there was still a few sacks of flour and couple packets of yeast still on the shelf on toilet paper crisis day!

I was amazed, not that I could make a loaf of bread at home, but at my wife’s reaction as she stated that my bread actually tasted better than any bread she had thus far tried here, including Wildflower’s. This merely prompted me to make another loaf every day, trying slightly different strategies, the quest for the “perfect loaf,” as to how long to let the dough rise, or whether to try my own starter instead of dry yeast?

Thirty-five years of practicing medicine, college and studying physical therapy overseas, in a foreign language that I, at the time, did not speak, treating perhaps thousands of people, yet when my wife looked at me with that smile and said; “You’ve become a baker,” I have to admit I had a real sense of accomplishment that overwhelmed me in ways I have rarely felt perhaps for years?

A feeling of “Peace!”

Maybe it is the finding of simpler joys, one may find now when a person has to spend more time at home; gardening, or making their own bread? The blessing of cleaning your own pool, cutting your own grass, making your own bread?

Maybe it’s not just noticing everybody is suddenly looking at you in the stores as you walk by, wondering perhaps if you have flu symptoms, but taking a moment to actually notice each other as we walk by?

I made a loaf of bread from a $2 sack of flour and a little yeast? One sack makes at least five loaves, fifty cents, and my wife said they taste better than any she has ever had. It almost makes me want to make a few and give them away? I guess that’s why the Amish call it “Friendship Bread?” One thing is for sure, I will be making my own from now on!

Sure there are fewer people driving to school, to work or flying, but enough that immediately the air seems cleaner, the Papaya suddenly blossoms or a Deer suddenly start laying next to houses? My wife even told me that they have noticed Dolphins swimming in the waters around Venice, and the canals are so clear for the first time in perhaps hundreds of years they are seeing fishes swimming again between the streets.

Green New Deal? God can do in an instant what politicians would pay billions to try and never come close to accomplishing. Swans in water in London!

We even decided to get a few chicks and try the chicken coop thing, my wife does love her eggs each day. Our nine-year-old daughter already seems to be having so much fun with the whole chicken, egg and feeding thing. When did 4-H stop being a course or club you could take at school, I think it used to be offered, I can’t remember that far back?

I think people, in general, are getting a taste of slowing down, simplifying their lives, stepping away from the “Rat Race,” and at least this guy is wondering do I really miss any of it? Do I even want to go back?

This Coronavirus, many people believe is a biological weapon, some believe it is a plague, it is clear it already has had a devastating effect on our economy, affected and even killed many, perhaps many thousands all over the world. How could God possibly turn such a devastating occurrence, attack, whether constructed by our own hands or not, into something good?

Maybe by slowing down the world, injecting Peace, we actually are finding simpler more significant creative moments in each day of our lives, a Green Godly deal is possible. We wanted climate change, maybe God said; “Let me show you who really is in charge of the climate,” and with a simple stroke of His majestic brush and a little help from our truly inspirational President, He cleaned everything up, quieted everything down, and brought people all over the world into a more illuminated light of pure godly truth. At least they started noticing each other.

Slow down and see life, instead of watching it pass you by.

By Peter Colla

“Dear Lord help me remember that this whole world is yours, and only you have complete control over every aspect, every blossoming flower, every gift of Peace. All good things come from You, help me remember and thank you for the time, stop and notice just a few of those good things as they call out to me throughout this wonderful day You have given me.”

 

For more information regarding Mind, Body, and Spiritual Healing check out our  new book

Heal Yourself; “For God’s Sake” by Peter Colla

http//gems-of-health-and-wellness.com

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

for more information about Peter Laue and the “Upper Room”

http//stretcherbearers.com

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“I Thought I Was Alive But Really I Died”

“I Thought I Was Alive But Really I Died”

I thought I was alive but really I died! Now that I have died, I realize I have been borne! And now that I have died, it is only now that I can truly live!

The day I died:

One day I awoke as a health care provider and realized a portion of what I was doing, teaching, preaching, presenting was not true; the Health Care I was giving, while it seemed to help with the symptoms, only for the most treated only the symptoms of the illness, and did little if nothing for that actual cause of the affliction. I seemed to have seen the light.

In many cases it may even contribute to the prolonging of the actual issues or others, these standard treatments they certainly seemed to be only enough to ensure a person felt just a little better, yet retained enough issue to assure the same person would return again, perhaps in a couple of days for another treatment. Insuring my waiting room was busy enough to pay my bills. Some of the same said bills, actually issued by the same entities that were responsible for paying the costs of that same care for the individuals I treated in the first place. In essence, they were paying me for care and I was turning around and handing them back at least a portion, laying my alms at its feet, but that is another story to be discussed later.

I decided then and there that the care, the advice, the direction of the treatment, needed, deserved to be, no, it was the “Right” of the patient to be included in the examination process; the actual cause of the injury at hand, the whole injury, and not just the after-effects or few symptoms that present itself, this day at this time. Treat the cause not just the result.

I was dead, to the old way:

Examining the issue at hand allowed one to see so clearly what actually was going on in this person their life (their very soul). When I would ask a person what were you doing at the time you felt the injury, the first moment of pain or the very first symptom, but more importantly what were you thinking? In each and every case the person knew with the most distinct and almost supernatural clarity the answer, and if they didn’t they merely needed to ask their own spirit and it seemed almost out of thin air the answer would be revealed to them.

This precipitated a direct consideration in treatment for the actual issue at hand and it allowed the client to as it was put an eye on the actual cause of the issue. But what I also witnessed was nothing short of miraculous, not only did symptoms immediately cease but in some cases the actual afflictions left altogether, resulting in seemingly miraculous healing to occur.

Issues that may have lingered for years vanished, abilities that were thought gone suddenly reappeared, and afflictions thought incurable suddenly and magically began to flee, this was especially true in children. But the most remarkable fact was that bodies thought permanently changed by these issues suddenly, almost instantaneously, revert back to their previous, undamaged and in some cases even better status than they had been prior to the event that causes them injury in the first place! This factual observation was in direct conflict of the belief system I had been taught or programmed my entire life, causing me then to wonder about perhaps what other parts were taught as absolute truths which perhaps were not?

Now that I have died I realize I am borne:

These events, I needed to write about them, speak about them, study and understand them, even publish them. But one thing was sure in me as a health care practitioner it had two results, one, I knew at that moment I must investigate if this seeming miracle was a fluke, why it occurred now, was it duplicatable in other individuals, but more importantly, what does it mean especially towards my belief in the actual treatment process I had been engaged in; what was I to do with this information that I had witnessed?

But more importantly two; I felt that not to share this information, especially with every person who presented themselves before me in pain, liked unto denying a thirsty child a simple drink of water in a scorching desert, especially when the water had been redly and freely given to me.

You would think such information, such revelation would be welcome, even lifted up for all to see, especially by the very organizations that have pledged their support to the people who have come to them for help, but the opposite seemed so. The moment a person or persons seemed to experience an almost miraculous ceasing of affliction, especially when it was clear a long time client would suddenly not need the services moving forward, the institution at hand would envelop the event, remove it from sight, (under the guise often time of further investigation), later deny the occurrence ever happened, and in many cases often seek to destroy the very participants of said “Miracle.” Certainly, they would separate the participants, denying us contact upon threat of denial of future services, or even ruination? Sometimes even eliminate them altogether, discredit them, slander and destroy them, rather than let any word that such a process healing actually could or did exist.

And now that I have died:

But what can a person do? Are we not all as health care practitioners swore to do our “Utmost,” everything in our limited power, ability, or knowledge to help other individuals with the afflictions they happen to be suffering from?

Do we actually do everything we can to help, but more importantly, not withhold but share, pass on to those in need the knowledge we ourselves have learned or certainly was given to us, especially when we are being asked and paid to? Do we give them what they need to heal or merely enough to feel better and come back?

What can a person say, when another person, in tears, asks, pleads, for their ailing child or spouse, even begs you “what you would do,” if you know what they can do to find some relief, overcome this issue at hand, even defeat this “bully” that has been harassing them for so long, and seems not only scary but so permanent?

How do you say no, withhold information, or bite your tongue, to the mother, the child, the brother who is pleading with their eyes, suffering? You can’t, I can’t, especially if I fear to lose my own soul in the process. What, deny one to make a buck, as I seem by so many to be told to do? If a person does that; how about ten, well then, why not a thousand, by this time a person seems to be brought to that same question more and more frequently until it would become so blurred you would have a hard time even remembering any truth, and life in the first place?

You look around and see how people are paying for care and being dealt out the minimal, most cost-effective, profitable for who; ”bowl of gruel,” and it makes you want to scream. Scream at the bosses, the companies, the institutions who don’t seem to care about the pain you are witnessing, only the money, the numbers, the number of zeros in their ledgers. All that pain!

I guess that is what death feels like?

It is only now that I live:

It is funny to think that I have treated people for going on now nearly thirty-five years, thousands of them, and for the first twenty-five of these year pretty much the same way, day in and day out, another small dose of the same old treatment for the same old issue, another what had become a sort of fast-food burger for another person who rushes by the window.

And never in that whole time had any of these people credited me with saving their lives, oh sure, they thank you even praise you for helping them, but did I, did I really? Now I seem to hear that statement more and more frequently, they feel better, no, they are better! When nothing seemed to help, suddenly now they are better, when they had no hope, now they do. They have their life back, their life has been saved!

Now, this is a reward! Who cares about losing the job, or a boss denying the pay? Who cares about the institutions saying you are crazy or slandering you to their friends. What greater reward could a man or woman feel than the realization they had helped another, maybe put their own life, their reputation, their pay, their field, at risk to help another, save another person their life?

Didn’t God Himself say; “For there is no better gift a man can give than to lay down his life for another? For sure! Because I can truly say to you, if you do it for even one, even the smallest or most insignificant of one, you do it for Me!”

I have no choice! I must tell everything to them. I am dying too!

No, I am living too!

By Peter Colla

 

Oh and one last thing; now that I have already died, I realize there is nothing anymore to fear!

In a world where fear seems to be everywhere.

“For I was once afraid, I now realize there is nothing more to fear!”

Corona Virus? Why fear?

Maybe that’s why He said and continued to say so many times in the first place;

“Fear Not.”

 

“Dear Lord give me the strength to pass on the wisdom and share the experiences you have so graciously given me, without fear.”

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The Definition of True Worship

Two days ago I was sitting drinking coffee with my lovely wife, discussing the concept of “Worship” when we read it in the pages of the book we are reading together? To be honest, the concept, as well as the practice, seemed to be something I have struggled with perhaps the majority of my adult life, or at least from the time I can say that I have been actively engaged in the arena of at least trying to “follow God.”

What exactly is worship? And while I had the privilege in my own past to play a musical instrument, and be a part of a “worship service” band, I can say that the actual feeling of worship as well as the desire to enter into it, seemed to escape me? Plus reading passages in the Bible where statements are made of people or angels worshiping God for extended periods of time, even weeks or years, not only baffled me but is some cases even scared me, as I contemplated the translations of my own guilt-laden boredom with the mere twenty or thirty minutes I had in church, extending to periods over months if not more?

I went to bed or perhaps relaxed, and as I began to doze off an image came into my head from my own young family life experience, and I felt God may have been answering my own questions, even one I hardly realized I asked? I have an overwhelming feeling to put that image onto the paper after discussing it with Anna this morning.

I was transported and see before me, my own small child Grace as a baby, sitting on the floor in front of me. What was amazing was the image I could see was one where I am looking at the scene from directly behind her and I can at the same time also see myself sitting on the couch off to her right watching her play?

I say I can see myself because I am sort of watching her, and watching myself watch her even as the scene unfolds before me. There is a look on my own face, as I watch my sweet child just sit there playing before me of pure happiness. And while I probably couldn’t do it justice, let’s just say I don’t think I could ever remember myself being that happy as I witness myself at this moment, the look was unmistakable. Perhaps the only word that I could possibly come up with, that could even remotely describe the look on my own face I was witnessing; is utter bliss.

My little daughter cannot be even a year old yet, because she doesn’t seem to be old enough to stand up on her own, but she is sitting unsupported. She is from the vantage point I am observing, now right directly behind her, clearly sitting looking or playing with something in her hands. 

My own eye must have the supernatural ability to simultaneously look from behind her and at the same time, not only see what she is examining in her precious hands but also the look on her face as she examines it? She is just sitting there looking at a simple small rectangular toy, perhaps a small woodblock over and over in her hand as she carefully examines it, studying it,  turning it over, again and again, studying each side as if the new side is suddenly and excitedly new once again.

Her face is one of complete contemplation but also happy and smiling satisfaction as she looks at the block, turns it over, looks at the other side, and then looks at the other side again, studying it and smiling in her thorough happy exam. I think I even softly hear her quiet voice a soft cooing soundly as she again discovers a once again new side.

I am amazed at her complete peacefulness and thoroughness that she places on this simple item, the locking of her gaze, not want to miss a single atom of the precious treasure that has suddenly found its way into her hands.

For a moment she almost seemed to get so enamored by her activity she almost forgot I was there, but suddenly she stops and turns needed to make sure I still was. She stops and looks up to me sitting on the couch next to her, watching her. She gives me a happy satisfied smile, almost as a response, and just as quickly returns her gaze to the object of her attention. Because just as fast she looked at me, she was is right back looking at the block again starting to rotate it around in her hand as she examines one side and then another.

Again my eye goes back to myself sitting on the couch and the look on my own face as I seem to realize myself she is just making sure I am still there, her father, safely watching her as she plays. A wave of personal satisfaction as my own fatherly pride self seems to know what possibly she must have thought, at least realized with the look on his face; “Yep, dad is still there, I am safe, protected, loved, even being watched in interest and smiles.”

Again she suddenly stops, looks again at me on the couch, but this time reaches out with the outstretched arm to show her dad with a giving smile, the block in her hand. Looking up at him and lifting it up, she smiles with such joy and loving participation, wanting me clearly to see, or wishing to show me the wonderful treasure she has just discovered.

I cannot begin to describe the feeling I see on my own face as I look at the wonderful smiling bright loving eyes of my child, reaching up and wanting to share her new discovery with me, her precious treasure. At this moment she is giving me a true experience of life, and love all wrapped up in a single wonderful, yes; “wonder”-“full” wooden block.

This I feel in my heart and realize immediately in my own thoughts; “This Is the Definition of True Worship”

“God loves to watch us experience His gifts He gives us, loves it more when we look to make sure He watching and loves it the most when we reach out and share our wooden blocks with Him.”

 

Thank You Grace my sweet daughter for that wonderful memory, and thank you God for that fatherly experience.

By Peter Colla

 

“Dear Lord, help me remember that You, as a Father loves to watch each of us, oh so much more than I could ever begin to. And Lord help me remember to appreciate every gift you give me in this life even the most precious little wooden blocks.”

Posted in Beauty, Charity, Children, Christian, Christianity, Dreams, Father, Father's Love, Gifts from God, God and Healing, Grace, Healing, Health, Health and Wellness, Jesus, Love, Love of a Child, Parenting, Prayer, Spiritual Growth, Spiritual Healing, Wealth, Wellness | Leave a comment

The Dam Has Broken!

42-33943705I had a dream, and in my vision within the dream I saw a great build up of debris holding back the waters of a clear beautiful creek. Clay and dead timbers and all sorts of discarded objects were used to form up an ever increasing barrier, higher and thicker until it took the shape and form a large dam.

It was clear the dam was being built up by the enemy, for it was grey and cold, its rough surface in no way demonstrated anything but harsh resilience against the waters that were behind. The sky was churning with darkened greys swirling onninessness of white towering clouds, not dark because of the enemy, but because of the anger that was brewing in spirit of God.

Gods blessings of a very long time were sitting behind that dam, denied to the people down in the valley below! Gods waters were being built up, held back, denied from the people down river who have been thirsty, almost choking for its few drops. The enemy could not take the waters for itself but could hold it back, denying the children its existence. Yet the flow continued and up the dam it had to grow, higher along the canyon walls, the dams’ claw like talons holding tightly to the rock walls as the accumulating reservoir continued to grow every day.

I looked at the grey rough face of the dam and suddenly I noticed small cracks and droplets of water forming on its vast cold now concrete like surface. These watery appearances were becoming more and more frequent, a few even began spraying forth with popping sound as small rumbles of greater pressures hidden within suddenly erupted sending it small pieces of degree hurtling into the now vast chasm down the cannoned valley.

I saw more and more cracks, and in the darkened sky I suddenly heard the ominous sound of the alarm, a great siren warning the people below of some impending danger.

My eye immediately goes to the valley where I see the people down in the deepest recesses of the city, some of them looking up at the sound, a few casually dismissing the siren as “just another warning test, nothing to be alarmed about, they are just testing the system again.”

Many go right back to the business they continued with before, busy in the muck and mire of the very middle of the valley streets. The deeper within the valley the more prominent as well as dark the sewer filth that flows down the middle of these streets seem.

Especially the people in the lowest part of the city, the sewer filth is the strongest, they play and wash their clothes in the refuse. The high walled buildings and busy roadways make it hard for the people here to even see the fact that they are deep in the valley. Many of these don’t even take the time to look up from the sound but ignore it altogether.

A few of these individuals although, try to move out away from this deep center, the panic of the distant siren having at least some small effect on these. All these people seem to frantically asking each other if they should at least try to make it to higher ground?

Further away from the center, the people can hear the sirens more clearly and they are more aware as well as a bit alarmed by the loud sound, many more of them actually start moving towards the edge town quickly trying to get to the foothills of the mountains that line the valley.

As we look at the  foothills we see people who were slowly walking up now running up the mountains. Some frantic almost pulling their friends out of the way or stepping over others to get up.

Then there are those already at the top, some of these are actually coming down trying to help the others up to the top yelling out their own warning of the dam which is about to break.

I look back at the dam which is now squirting out water from many fishers simultaneously like many dozen high powered fire hoses, a thick blanket of water is already pouring down the cold dark surface of the dam.The many attendants of the dam are now frantically leaving the facilities trying themselves to escape, they appear from the distance to scatter like cockroaches when the light is turned on. Many of these have no idea which way to go and run into each other, even throw each other off the road as they mouth their silent screams, which have no chance to be heard over the loud sirens.

I then hear a great rumble like thunder or the deep echos of an underground atomic bomb, and with a great cracking noise like a thousand explosions all at once, the ground shakes with a sudden movement as what clearly feels like an earthquake irrupts underfoot and the center of the dam immediately starts to shift with a screeching low pitched grind. A great wall of water over a thousand feet tall presses through all at once and falls through the dam, crashing into the open space right below. All the water of the huge reservoir that had been held behind flows through like a gigantic lake just following in one solid block, taring the cement, walls, buildings and remaining structures of the dam with them, as they crash forward down the chasm of the canyon into the valley below.

All the people feel the huge sound and even feel the ground shutter as the sound reverberates through their very being like thunder striking deep under their feet. All are frozen in awestruck fear as they look up the valley into the canyon to witness the origin of the sound they already fear as doom coming.

There is an ere silence for a moment right after the initial shaking as people just all just stare in still confused realization as what their eyes are registering suddenly takes shape. The huge wall of water rumbling down the face of the mountain upon the canyon in front of them turning and plowing buildings trees and electric poles like they are toothpicks suddenly manifests itself like some sleeping elephant that suddenly rolling to its other side.

The people deepest in the valley are swallowed up by the churning debris which looks more like a sideways rolling tornado than any water wall now. Constructs of tumbling building and all manners of churning materials form a juggernaut of power and destruction as the front wall slams into more waiting buildings.

The crashing sound is quickly followed by a thundering roar almost like hearing an enormous lion roar with your ear right next to his mouth, the water flows past the more sturdy brick built buildings clearly built on rock. Its cascading waters filling the streets in center of the valley to the brim with material, all forms of plants, soil and cascading movement, creating a scene of almost solid movement. In the deepest center of town the whole dark muddy gulley in the middle seems to now be sliding itself down the valley as if pushed up into a massive heap of muck dissolving as it goes under the churning waters and white frothy foam.

All the people running towards the foothills, while some seem to be pushed down stream a bit, other were close enough to the high edges or firm foundations to lift themselves out of the danger even as they realize how far they were in, or with what manner they can lift themselves out. Some even attempt themselves to help others close to them especially the weak or young from the seemingly angry ravaging waters.

The very young seem instinctively to know how to climb trees or other structures to just get out of the reaches of the raging torrents. Some of these very young on the contrary, even jumped into the more calm waters on the edges playing in their crystal blue and white spray, satisfying weeks even years of thirst as theirs fear is suddenly turned for them into blessings.

As the rumbling torrent quickly passes people begin to walk out of the hidden refuges of their homes just to look with amazement at the now clear stream that has replaced the filthy sewer down the center of their town. They walk up to its edge with smiling amazement, and reach down with expected hands as they cup for themselves cool fresh waters lifting it with eager anticipation to their thirsty lips.

The clouds part, and the angry sky is replaced by light beams shining down along the glistening shores of diamond sparkled drops of heavenly waters, resting softly on the fingertips of leaves, grasses, the soft edges of peoples homes, reflecting the colors only moments away from the same soft touches of their own sweet smiles.

By Peter Colla

page1image544“Dear Lord thank you for releasing the blessings that have been dammed up by the enemy, help us all to hear and heed the signs of your warnings as delivernse is turned into bliss.”

 

 

For more information about “The Lion of Judah” or other related articles please join us on the wonderful path; http://www.gems-of-health-and-wellness.com and/or http://www.stretcherbearers.com

Posted in Battle, Change in Healthcare, Charity, Christian, Christianity, Discipleship, Dreams, End Times, Father's Love, God and Healing, Grace, Healing, Health, Health and Wellness, Home Health, Jesus, Love, Medicine, Nobility, Power, Prayer, Relationship, Soul and Spirituality, Spiritual Growth, Spiritual Healing, Spiritual Warfare, Uncategorized, Wealth, Wellness | Leave a comment

The Bricklayer’s Dream

downloadI had an image appear in the early morning whispers that awaken from the dreams of my mind. One of a bricklayer sitting on a small stool and laying bricks along a cobblestone road in some remote village street perhaps in the European countryside of some not so distant land or past. He is casually sitting on the simplest of wooden stools humming to himself and smiling at the passers by. He hardly seems to be concentrating on the rapid motion of both of his hands as he places brick after brick into their perfect place, repeatedly, and I may add, meticulously forming patterns in the road in such a perfectly flat and uniform patterns it seems like it could only be done by some sophisticated machine.

He speedily moves up the path scooting his wooden stool over the now recently finished part of the road he had just completed, moving the stool so often it appears that he hardly sits for a few seconds and then he has to hop the stool again a few feet further. Other workers are all around him, some in front of him preparing the sand, raking and smoothing the section he is moving towards, others bringing and stacking bricks in front of his hands. All of these move in almost frenzied worry trying to stay ahead of the bricklayer as he just smiles and continues. These men and their nervousness to prepare the path sufficiently with adequate speed to keep just ahead of the bricklayer do nothing to diminish his mood as the casual smile or occasional greeting to a passer by, always remaining at what seems to be the most peaceful casualness. He continues to move up the road at what seems an almost impossible pace.

So many bricks are being placed so fast his hands are almost a blur as he places one with his right hand, then another with his left; back and forth while he only sways with the most insignificant motion, like the gentle sway of tree in the afternoon breeze. Less experienced younger men are straining, hurrying to dump wheelbarrows full of bricks right next and in the path of each of his hands so all the bricklayer needs to do is reach out and take the next brick needing to be placed. The motion involved, and all around the bricklayer seems to suggest that he is delivering exactly what he needs to do in the task he has been given, doing it is a way that is exceedingly appreciated.

Even his boss who watches from a casual distance has a smile of satisfaction watching him, a clear pride for having such a valued worker on his team. For why would the boss of the road construction company give this bricklayer so many helpers if he didn’t think the man was valuable? Other bricklayer’s at other places along the road seem to be moving much slower and have to go get their own bricks or only have one or two persons helping them.

I think I know this man of my dream, as someone out of my past life experience, perhaps a friend I knew years ago, long before I began doing the work I am doing today. When I think of the man of my own memory, in any context, I always see him in my mind with a smile on his face, a cigaret dangling from his mouth, even while running or playing sport. His full bearded face embracing the smile that seems to always be on his lips, that and the obvious strength, his back clearly demonstrating muscular strength only usually seen on the most accomplished powerlifters, yet I know he probably never lifted a single barbel in his life or spent even a minute in the gym. He didn’t need to, he lifted two pound bricks at least a hundred times a minute all day, every day, his whole adult life.

If someone was to ask me what the bricklayer looks like, I might describe long blond hair, stocky looking like a cross between a short, smoking, brick laying version of Thor, and maybe what Santa Claus might have looked like when he was in his late twenties? That and the fact he was wearing wooden shoes to his work place did seem to make him look more like a village farmer in Eastern Europe than anyone a person might expect to see in their normal life today.

Not everybody needed to use the roads he worked on, but for the people who did happen to use these roads, they seemed to be clean roads, good roads, roads that were designed to bring destination and protection from the surrounding irregularities of the countrysides forests and weed lined road edges. These forests that were just a short distance from the road, they are thick growth, touching the autumn skies, giving the layered green canopy a mysterious darkness under, not frightening, just a tint of unknowing that leaves people with a calm reassurance, they receive at least, a feeling granted them by walking on the road, the safety of not having to venture forward through the darker unknown forest.   

The many people who passed by the bricklayer greet him, and if they didn’t first, he greeted them, that was when they lifted their heads for a moment from the road to look up at him as they walked by or when he greeted them. Everyone he met he seemed to like and they seemed to like him. The many that even smiled back with a greeting often bordered on genuine appreciation when they came to the place where he was working. For he was a skilled bricklayer, a seasoned road worker, and it has always been noble job with what seemed a noble cause; helping the many people who come by. Maybe not directly helping them, but indirectly for through his obvious talents the road seemed so smooth and perfectly created? Plus, it was because of his efforts they could travel down this particular part of the road he was working on. Smiles of appreciation for the work he did maintaining the road, laying the bricks on the road they needed to use.

He was not always so good at what he did, it was a skill he had to learn, but his own God given talents allowed him to hone the skill into something that others seemed to see as truly mystical, almost artistic, even at times miraculous. Yet, he was the first to remind them; “He was only a bricklayer, he just happen to be given some unique skills by God that allowed him to move in a way that a bit faster than most.”

The basic education of bricklaying was taught to all of them the same way, and in that, his own early development which was not much different than any of the other workers around him, everyone learns the same methods, works along the same way. But it was not long, perhaps only a single year before he and everyone else around him began to see the talent that laid in wait within, and he became quite fast and methodical at what he did, so much so, even getting a bit of a reputation for being one of the best bricklayer’s in the region. Maybe this is why his own body took on an image of the sort of strength mimicking the intended security and stability the road was supposed to perform. For let’s not forget, it was a road that brought the people where they thought not only they wanted to go, but needed to go in this junction of their life, in this corner of their soul, was it not? The bricks were merely the individual stepping stones along a much more complex and calculated system of transportation.

Maybe it was this added strength, the abilities that seemed to come naturally, maybe it was his desire not to just stare down at the ground, or look around at not only the people that came by, but anything; the trees, the birds, that prompted him to look at everyone who passed by, while also smiling and even enjoying the gifts of each day? An inquisitive spirit to observe rather than just stare at the ground and place brick after brick into its intended spot?

On this particular day he was working, then suddenly heard a faint cry in the weeds along the road, and he realized there was a poor unfortunate laying crying, maybe even dying in the ditch next to the road? While others kept busy or just kept meandering down the road, his attention was fixed on the sound coming from the ditch. Other workers made gestures with their faces, some demonstrating that they seemed to know of the sad sound, but kept at their road work, all walking by, most never even bothering to as much as turn their heads to even glanced this poor soul’s way. Some, many of which were co-workers of his own group, would venture the person in the ditch a quick glance, but quickly return their attention back to the task of the road, for nobody would help this person in the ditch. He decided to take a break and step off the road and look at what was going on. 

He reached down and pull the poor person out of the muck, brush off the dirt, and lift him back up to his feet. To the bricklayer’s amazement, the injured person felt immediately relieved and went his way without even needing to get back on the road. Dashing into the forest with hardly a glance back or even a casual goodbye. Many of his co-workers saw the interaction and stood there in amazement at what transpired, all of them “dumb founded,” even as much as he himself seemed to be. Were we all really “Founded So Dumb” the bricklayer thought to himself with a chuckle?

Suddenly while even still standing in the muck, our good bricklayer noticed another up along the road who also had fallen also into the muck, in the overgrown gulley that he never noticed was even along the edge next to the road. A great deal many people lying there, most face down struggling to even draw breath, many trying to push themselves with weak arms out of wet mud, or kicking in slippery black tar like stench trying to crawl out, all were in pain, all were crying and suffering. But also, he saw from this vantage point, the most subtle irregularities that were in the road, what seemed like the many slight flaws that were there, especially along the edge that may have caused these poor people to stumble and then fall into the ditch in the first place?

His first thoughts were to help some more of these poor people up ahead who had fallen, but there seemed to be so many, and with each step forward more and more came into his awareness as he looked up along the road. A few even tumbled into the ditch even in the place he just exited another. In front and behind him the gulley hidden in the weeds along the road stretched before him like some dark sewer hidden in the recesses of a weed infested swamp.

The first few he came too, he tried to help them in the same way he had helped the first one. Some of these individuals would get up and walk away happy, content in the same way the first guy did. Many others would quickly climb back onto the road and continue down the road often with hardly a glance back. A few of the people who did get back on the road, he noticed, would immediately hit another flaw in the road and tumble right back into the ditch again. There was a very few who even refused his help altogether, demanding he leave them alone, even pushing his hands away from any help he might offer, only wishing to lie in the ditch and suffer. It became immediately obvious that many of these particular few seemed to be in the ditch by their own choosing, not wishing to leave, seemingly feeling a liking to the attention they received from their aching cries or complaints.

After a while of attending to the first people he helped out of the ditch, he went back to his bricklaying job but also started to fixed a few of the flaws he had witnessed in his direct vicinity, and at the end of his shift reported back to his boss about what he found. The first reaction of the boss was positive, but quickly changed, and soon it became evident, if not directly, but eventually in writing; “That he wasn’t getting paid to help people out of the ditch, he was getting paid to lay bricks, at least to concern himself with the people using the road, and that’s all.”

But how could he ignore all the people in the ditch, in his heart he couldn’t just leave them there, so he helped them anyway, explaining each in their turn how to ovoid the flaws the road seemed to have. It became evident to everyone, including the boss, if he spent so much time helping the people out of ditch, he couldn’t lay as many bricks as efficiently as before, at first his pay suffered, but soon he was called back into the office with the boss.

The boss expressed concern he wasn’t working as efficiently as he had been before, it seemed the result was there was less people needing to use the road as often? But the brick layer explained, while that may be true, his primary work was helping the people on the road, wasn’t that why he was there for in the first place? Plus, he was still able to lay more bricks than his colleagues, he was, in truth, laying a much more positive road now without the flaws, safer for the people to continue down without as much risk to falling along the way. Less people falling off the road, meant a better road, and ultimately a better reputation for the boss and the company? Perhaps this may ultimately lead to more people wishing to use their road?

One thing was for sure, this explained why everyone who used the road seemed to stare at the ground, maybe it was either they sensed the flaws or at least were fearful of them, ether way the flaws seemed everywhere along the edges. Maybe that is why everyone who used the road seemed depressed, their eyes were being depressed into the ground!

Before the conversation was over, as an added bonus, the bricklayer presented the boss with a written report of the various flaws he found in the road, along with simple techniques and cost effective changes that could eliminate them forever throughout the company so others would not fall into the ditch. The boss thanked him for the list, then fired him on the spot and told him if he said anything about what was said regarding his time working on the road, any of the people he helped in the ditches, or the flaws, he would sue him and do everything in his power to ruin or destroy the brick layer as well as his family. The boss threw his list in the trash and said with a smirk; “If you don’t like it take me to court.”

The bricklayer went to work for other companies, for he was bricklayer, and he needed to feed his family. But he quickly found many of the same flaws and likewise people in the ditches along the roads, some with terrible issues, sicknesses even cancers often caused by again the faults or the black tar like toxins in the road. How could he ignore them, especially the crying pleas of the suffering children? All of them he even begged not to tell anyone, especially the bosses, of the help they received, because he knew it would mean his job, but they always seemed too, or someone standing off to the side would see and report him, and of course within moments of these reports he would find himself sacked again? He lost job after job, position after position, and even found out one day his original boss was calling ahead and slandering the bricklayer with lies to convince the new bosses to fire him immediately.

He then decided he wouldn’t work for a company unless they had a policy in place to  help the people in the ditches and or correct the flaws in the roads. In some cases he was even specifically hired by the owners of these companies to eliminate the very flaws that they themselves had already realized existed. But here again the minute he either helped someone out of a ditch, even sometimes through instructing other co-workers how they might, or actively fixed any flaws himself, even a single brick, a sort of attack dog; an almost Rottweiler looking person showed its vicious teeth and eliminated him. Usually this one appeared in the form of a supervisor, or assistant executive of the company, one would rise up and command him first to stop helping others, later slander and ultimately try to destroy him as well. One or more of these Rottweiler looking individuals even went so far as to dismantle entire companies and destroy departments of major multi-state organizations rather than let any of the road fixing processes take hold. They seemed willing to cut their own throats rather than let any procedure take hold that could help the roads become better.

All the major and most of the successful companies quickly began to ignore his pleas, the smaller ones didn’t seem to dare to contemplate such a seemingly radical thought or willing to go against the wishes of his first boss. When it came to even admitting the flaws were there, even though many of the larger companies, frankly the entire industry, reluctantly did admit it already existed. Soon they even turned away from his offer for service in any way, not being interested in his bricklaying skills at any price, often telling him he was overqualified to lay the bricks and they needed a younger person, someone in their words; “They could mold into the model and beliefs of their company!” It became evident to the bricklayer that the big bosses not only wanted, but may have intentionally designed the roads to cause people to fall into the ditches in the first place, seemingly wanting the people to lie in the ditch and suffer. Becoming, as it were, a prisoner of the road! Somebody did design the flaws and dug those ditches that where along the road, didn’t they?

Quickly and finally the bricklayer realized the only way he could have any hope of really helping anyone avoid the traps that seemed to be lurking in the ditches along the roads, was to start his own road making company. No need to have a ditch if the people didn’t fall off the road, and if the flaws were gone, no stumbling, people could look up when they used his road, faithful that no flaws were there. But here too, all the contracts for the roads were being sponsored by the big contracting companies, any payments for the bricklaying needed to go through them, and they would not pay him unless he held to the strict designs of the roads; they wanted their constructs to include everything they expected from the other companies which clearly included the ditches and especially the flaws.

The bricklayer went on and started just helping the people out of the ditches, preparing the roads where he could, often on his own or even in secret. And while the many people in the ditches were pleasantly thankful for what he did for each of them individually, nobody ever offered him any supportive thanks for his help, not even a bite to eat or a drink of a cup to help feed his children. They all seemed to look at him with confused looks; “doesn’t or shouldn’t your boss pay you to help us since we all fell while using the road, are you not a bricklayer, isn’t it your job to fix the road?”

The big bosses seemed to not pay him any attention anymore, yet they did actually the opposite and paid close attention to him, secretly schemed and plotted to slander, even destroy him and his family any chance they had, remaining true on their promise; “To destroy him and his family if the bricklayer didn’t do exactly what they said.” Without putting his finger on exactly what or when, the bricklayer himself seemed to have increasingly bad financial luck and suffer setbacks all around. People stealing from him, even the little he had, doors closing for no apparent reason, promises made for business or help and then suddenly nothing as these good people just vanished. It was as is a carpet would be placed under him to give him hope and then suddenly be yanked out from under him for no other reason than to watch him fall.

The old boss kept making up reasons to pull him into court, all along laughing because he didn’t care win or lose, breaking the bricklayer was his goal. Could it be possible the big bosses are trying to destroy his family like some jealous beast only wanting to take that few peddle’s in his meager garden of land, that single blooming flower, or some precious young lamb he happen to have, just because they happen to want it, and rather than use one of the many the boss has, or rather than looking at the vast forest they possess, the great abundance he has in his own yard? I didn’t make sense.

One day as he worked secretly fixing the ditches along the road a great leader of the land came by, a truly good man who not only loved the land and its people in word and promise, but expresses it in every thought and deed he performed. He had been gone for a while and now it was time for him to return. He spots the bricklayer digging along the ditches, sweating hot in the sun, straining on the shovel, dirty, worn and tired. “When did you become a ditch digger?” the great man asks as he looks on to the brick layer leaning tired and heavy against the shovel?

“Im not a ditch digger, I pulled a person out of this ditch and now I’m repairing the land here, because these ditches catch people in the muck and mire.” “Maybe if I fix a little of the land here, get rid of the mud, when the people fall in they won’t get so stuck?” “That’s my thought, anyway?”

“Does it work?” the rich man says.

“I don’t know I just got started.”

“Who’s paying you to do that?” the man asks with a confused look on his face.

“Nobody, as a matter of fact if the people who make the roads knew I was doing it they would probably call the police to stop me.”

“Well, I’m not trying to stop you, but I have come here to try to help you.” “I’m giving you some solid gold bricks so you can go build a road the right way, one that will get people to their destinations without fear or flaws, so they don’t have to look down while they walk but can venture down this path with their heads held high and see all the wonders God has given each of them on every glorious day of their journey.”

“I tried that before,” the bricklayer said, “but my old boss and his powerful friends shut me down like a spider with a great web, every turn I make, try to destroy my very family, I fear for them.”

“Yes, I know,” the Good and powerful leader says,“but you need not worry about your old boss, I am very aware what he has done. For that man thinks this is his land, and he can do what he wants, but it is My land, and I will deal with him directly.”

“Why are you doing this?” the bricklayer asks,  almost not hardly believing what he was hearing?

“Two reasons; one, because the very first person you helped out of the ditch, I don’t know if you remember, but it was me.” The man says with a smile that doesn’t border on any pride but mere fact as if the bricklayer should have realized it all along.

“I do remember the first person and while it was a long while ago, I don’t remember him looking like you, but again it was while ago,” the bricklayer says with a little confusion.

“When you do it for any of my subjects, especially the least of these, you do it for me.” “For I am the King of these lands.”

“But the second reason I am giving you these golden bricks is simple; because you are a bricklayer.” He smiled and reached into his coat and pulled out the first solid gold brick. Handed it to the bricklayer and took the shovel from the bricklayers hands, turning to walk away.

“Wait, what road, and where do you want me to lay these bricks?”

The King turned back and with the sweetest most loving smile a Good Father ever gave his son, He said; “I will let you know.”

By Peter Colla

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Many people ask me why I don’t open back up my own medical office, or just go back to working on patients, especially considering I have seen so many people healed in such miraculous ways. And they always wonder why I don’t just bill the insurance companies for the care I give people?

But the answer like the dream is simple; I am the bricklayer, and the care had literally become as laying bricks, the flaw and the traps are in the road and the organizations that profit from their participation. Try as I might, I couldn’t get the bosses to agree to change the flaws in the road, and when I fixed them anyway, I was cast aside, on more than a dozen occasions. I am persecuted even today.

The threats are real, the attacks are as well, and the while I do not mention names, or companies, or even industries, it is not to protect the innocent but to protect the identities of my love ones and the people who happen to experience freedom from this tyranny. For the system has created a temple, or in this case a road, where people may come and travel down, intending to experience healing, but all they receive is deceit, suffering and imprisonment.

Despair and Hopelessness; these seem to be the promptings this road propagates and certainly the ditches the people find themselves in.

“Dear Lord Jesus help me remember the only way to dispel despair is with joy, and hopelessness with belief, both are bound by faith; faith in the hope that miracles do occur, and no amount of dread or doom can dispel the undeniable truth of God, that everyone not only can receive healing but deserves to.”

   

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The Gift Of A Piano

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This is a Piano with a Real History!

 

 

 

Let me tell you of the history of this piano, if you have but a moment to read further.

Here on the twenty-seventh anniversary of the moment when this piano came into my possession, I realize now it may be time to let it move onto a new home. 

Twenty-seven years ago on November 11, 1992, (11-11), a tragedy attacked me, the severity of which I had barely experienced before or even fractionally since. My young wife Hilly, pregnant with our second child, driving to the doctor for a last moment check, only a single day before the scheduled Cesarean birth, was struck by a large truck, a car accident, her life and the already loved nearly new-born child’s in her womb where instantly snuffed from this existence. I later heard the man weepingly say; “He never saw the red light.”

What does this have to do with a piano?

The surviving spouse, myself, “You do what you need to do.” I was a practicing physical therapist, I had patients, but more importantly I had a surviving two and half year old daughter I needed to go on for. If I had my choice I would left, gone somewhere, anywhere, nowhere, maybe checked out, for my young wife was then the love of my life. She was the woman I gave up home, school, and even land for, traveling to Europe, falling in love, only to later bring her back to the States to build a life together, for this end!

But I still had a daughter, so I went on.

Two or three days after her death, I found myself working on a new patient, a pleasant man, one I hardly remember, much like the majority of that time period which is still clouded, fog-like clouds people seem to experience when they have tragically lost a Loved One. 

The man, I had never seen before, seemed to know about the tragedy, that too seemed strange since I would speak nothing of it, but with a soft heart and even more sensitive voice he asked me how I was holding up, seeming to direct the thoughts to how my young daughter was doing as well? Then, I’m not sure how, it came onto the topic, the man seemed to instinctively know that I had either already started my young daughter on piano lessons, played the piano myself, or that I was planning on it.

Either way, he said immediately; “I own a piano store over in the center of town. You come in there and if you want one, any one, I will give it to you at the same price I paid.”

IMG_1867“Any one you want, you pick. It will be my gift to you, new sounds, new beginnings, for you and your daughter in your home.”

I went the next day and the man himself didn’t happen to be there. When I told the sales manager what he had said, the manager reported that the man had already shared with him I might be coming in and specifically told him that I was to be shown everything they had, hopefully to find something I like. He reiterated; “He told me to give you whichever piano you wanted at our cost.”

So we looked through the showroom, which was filled with all kinds of beautiful new and even a few used pianos, all looked new and expensive. Names I knew, some I never heard of, all beautiful, grandiose, and all very expensive. I told the sales manager, while I appreciated the offer, I was just starting out and was really only looking for nice piano for our home, my budget was way under these on display. Then he offered to show me a few more older used ones they had in the back.

He was very kind and helpful, asking what exactly I might be looking for? I said; “I’m not really sure, I like the more wood looking, maybe older style, but I still would like a Grand Piano, maybe Baby Grand, I don’t know?”

He then directed me way back to rear of the building stating he thought he had just the thing? “A piano just came in that we purchased at an estate auction just this last weekend. It’s still in the shipping box, all I know is it’s old, it works, and I believe it is a Mahogany Grand piano. I believe the cost is in your budget.”

He took the top off the crate and I look in, it looked perfect. “If you want this one, we will just unpack it, make sure it works, maybe clean it up for you and then deliver it to your home. You can have it for the same price we paid?”

“Thank you, it’s perfect, I will take it, and please thank the owner for me.”

Later that day I got a call from the man, my patient. “I want to make sure before we send that piano out to you that you really want it? We had no idea what was in that crate until we unboxed it.”

“Is it ok?” I asked.

“It’s better than ok, that piano is a 1925 Steinway and in perfect condition. It is yours, but if you would rather have a new one, I would gladly trade it for any of the pianos in my store including any of the new Steinways I have for the price you paid for that one?”

“If you are reconsidering, I totally understand, but I really like the idea it’s an old one.” I said, still trying to comprehend everything he was saying to me.

“No, I’m not reconsidering at all, the piano is yours, I know it was meant to be yours, New beginnings! I just wanted you to realize the value so when you insure it, you will set it high enough. A New Steinway of that model is at least $65-80,000, and this one is original and from an era when the quality and materials of the pianos makes it extremely desirable.”

“Not to mention I have come to find out, we purchased it from an estate that brought it out to Arizona directly from the factory, and it has never been anywhere else.”

“It was supposed to come to you, enjoy,” he said with the most pleasant and well-wishing voice, I thanked the man as he hung up. A few days later the piano showed up.

They set it up, tune it, as a matter of fact, the tuner was himself a concert pianist who tunes pianos for extra money, he said; “This is the best sounding Grand Piano I have ever played on, it was an honor to play on such an instrument,” as he played a few beautiful short pieces for me.

It was absolutely spectacular, exactly as it stands today.

I never saw the piano store Owner again, he never came back for another visit. I would pass his store a few times usually at lunch break, occasionally even stopping in, but he was never there when I would. A few years later I noticed the shop had closed, or was sold, either way it was gone.

Many years later, after many years of fog and wandering in wilderness, I have finally came to the realization that store owner that came into my office that day must have been an angel. The piano, was a gift from God.

“A Gift for New Sounds, New Beginnings?”

Now here I am twenty-seven years later, on the anniversary of that event, suddenly thinking of this piano and the miraculous way it came into my home. I have finally found a New Love, the Restoration, God in His infinite mercy has restored what was taken all those years ago. My new wife and I find ourselves on again with “New Beginnings,” new paths, promptings to go where God would take us on this journey, and with the labors of our hearts and hands.

We are stepping out of our normal medical caregivers path of only treating peoples bodies, and venturing down one of environmental health for the purpose of healing people in their Mind, Bodies and most importantly Spirits.

I could feel God telling me; “The Piano can go to someone else now, someone who might carry its beautiful sound into another story. Maybe somebody who would like to join you on your path of helping others.”

IMG_1099The money we will use to further facilitate the opening of our new business Global Environmental Mindfulness (GEM) Industries, a Health and Wellness minded environmental company. But really it will be used to help others, allow us to continue our writing and build a company that puts God at the head of any of its concerns. If God wants this gift to go to someone else at this junction of the path my wife and I are on, then these individual might wish to contribute to that path with support their own gifts will provide.

 

By Peter Colla

 

“Lord thank you for the infinite gifts you have given me, and thank you for the honor to share those gifts with others as well.”

Posted in Change in Healthcare, Christian, Christianity, Gifts from God, God and Healing, Grace, Healing, Health, Health and Wellness, Land, Natural Medicine, Nobility, Physical Therapy, Piano, Prayer, Steinway Piano's, Uncategorized, Wealth | 1 Comment

All I Want From Christmas Is You

Morning on the dawn of another day, not just another, a new day, fresh in its undiscovered slender, a completely new creation like none other before it, a gift wrapped in the golden ribbons of the new morning suns’ light dancing majestically across perfectly painted scenes. What would God give his child today, as the eyes open to the faintest first speckles of mornings light softly bouncing across infinite peddles of each of the created flowers in the perfect garden of this child’s soul?

A question of yet discovery, for in this season of celebration, the birthday of His Son, the Great Giver wraps each of His gifts and lays them under the branches of the tree of life, granting the peace and protection of calm revery. What might I give to God for His birthday this year?

Oh, how many days have come and passed hardly noticed for their individual perfected brilliance, each a new masterpiece of created erected hues of dazzling colors and perfectly blended hues resting in the forefront, their light enhanced high lights reflect and contrast the shadows that hide behind, symphonies of gentle tones pirouette their perfect steps in sweet morning sounds of Gods gentlest natures creatures sing their praises for the new day.

The thought in my head, a sweet song, singing and playing as sweet as a child, quietly but comforting, as lay in conformable rest warm under the blanket of yet another gift from God. I snuggled up next to creation manifested in perfected love, my wife next to me, I hear a song softly playing in the hallways of the house God created for me this mansion of many rooms, this garden I know in my mind as my soul. Her gentle breaths and the realization of life perfected beauty, but that is not the song in my head for this one is the answer to my first question; “What might I give to God for His birthday this year?”, and the song gently playing over and over in my head is; “All I want from Christmas is you”.

As a father myself I think about my own children and the realization that I have truly been given everything I could ever want from a Father who loves me, knowing this but also knowing my own children express their own wish to give in this season, I realize in one splendid moment that this is the truest and perfect answer to such a perplexing thought. For truly all I do want for Christmas this year from each of them is them, to see them, to hear them, to experience them even if but a moment.

The face of my daughter brushes before my eye even as I hear this song repeating in my head the answer to my own question even as I speak it, yes it is true all I want for Christmas this in Gods perfectly created Grace, is you.

By Peter Colla

Posted in Children, Christian, Christianity, Father, Father's Love, Garden, God and Healing, Grace, Health, Health and Wellness, Love, Love of a Child, Parenting, Relationship, Soul and Spirituality, Spiritual Growth, Uncategorized, Wealth, Wellness | Leave a comment

Forgive Me Father

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been a long time since I have confessed my sins.”

I allowed myself to again fall trap to sins of man, and let them distract me from the path in which you would have me walk.

I allowed myself to be seduced yet again by men who through what appears to be worldly stature or success appear to be wise, and in that appearance may offer up a path or direction for me.

I looked to them for answers when I must only look to You. For I have freely given myself to You, asked You for guidance, and knowingly as well, have freely volunteered in Your army.

I let myself be seduced by the arrogance of pride, and through its soft persuasions allowed myself to take my eye off of you and look even again into the storm, and this has caused me to sink.

Godly direction and gifts can only be obtained from God. Men can only give constructs of hands and these ultimately reveal themselves as idols!

Our time, hopes and prayers are treasures of our own soul, and “where we put out treasures, there our hearts will be also”!

I am so foolish to even for a moment take my eyes off of you. Pull me yet again up out of the water for I want to walk with you again, no matter where it brings me even on the water, even in the storm, even in the middle of the sea.

Especially there!

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A Health Care Practitioner’s Take on Football Protests

I opened my eyes and I saw the faces of people before me, women older yet with elderly beauty that transcended the typical observations that come with older people of sixty, seventy or even older. They were not grimacing merely existing in the day as it was passing them by, seemingly enjoying the thoughts and activities that presented itself to them.

Then I notice, no looked down, and saw what appeared to be page or a cabinet lying on the ground with faces looking up at me all in rows, faces lined up in rows of four or five, and lining up all in a row three or four rows all with their eyes close, very peaceful smiles on their faces, yet none of them were moving, they were just faces from the neck up facing upward.

I noticed that the bottom row had only one face, but another seemed to be materializing as I watched, and I knew that these faces were being added to a list.

Then I heard the voice of God;

“These people have committed the same sinful act seven times, and have closed their eyes to it, and now I have closed their eye for them.”

“Are they dead?” I asked

“Most of them are blind, some of them are dead, all of them are dying.”

Then He showed me that some people are allowing their eyes to take in darkness over years and years, and through this act the eyes become cloudy or damaged. I asked in my voice if that is why my own eyes became weaker and eventually needed glasses. He said; “Yes.”

“But what about the children that are born with the need to use glasses?”

“People are born in various places in the garden, and with each brings its blessings, and each brings its storms, these you are to overcome or repeat, based purely on the particular location in the garden.”

I wake.

It makes so much sense. People of today have such a tendency to look at the problem, or symptom of the problem, and fixate on it, basically describing the whole world as bad, based purely on the observation of one small part of it.

The Football Protest came to mind.

I watch the football players take a knee, and try to understand the issue they are demonstrating. I may be wrong but I have heard it is “In protest against the unfair treatment of African Americans specifically by Law Enforcement in America.”

While nobody can deny that unfair acts of violence or prejudice have occurred in the past, and may continue to occur today, these acts only represent a very small part of the overall Law Enforcement community as a whole. And for the majority of American communities, especially areas where very little crime is witnessed on a day to day basis, when the vast majority of Americans have very little experience witnessing acts of violence, let alone acts of disparity and how law enforcement has handled, it becomes very difficult to identify with people who do, or protest to the fact.

So here comes the football players, the superstars of the sports and entertainment industry, men who are paid enormous amounts of money, basically millionaires, people paid to provide entertainment at the request and paid admission of millions of my fellow sports enthusiasts, decide to take a knee in protest of this dark issue that is protested to be out there somewhere in our society.

Darkness is all around us, evil lurks at the edge of the dark woods, like a bully waiting to attack, for no reason, but merely to fulfill his own need to feed the pain and hunger inside of his own darkened life. It waits just out of sight of the larger population, hides behind bushes waiting to pounce. It is always fearful itself if the larger society saw him, the good would overcome him and destroy him.

It waits, with it’s hungering teeth, to fall upon the unexpected, weak, vulnerable, and often lonely child as they wander a little to far from the light and find themselves venturing into the dark shadows of the night. It wants to inflict pain, cause the child to scream, fear is what it feeds on, always angry, bent on destruction, with pure malevolence as the very food of which it lives for. Bottom  line it likes it hates, and while we as a good society would have it that it doesn’t exist, unfortunately it does and now we must decide what to do about it.

We tell our children don’t walk alone from school, and certainly do not wonder down the dark alleyways out of sight and away from others observing eyes, there may be a predator waiting, hiding, intending them harm. We tell our children to stay safe. We tell ourselves to stay safe, but darkness is out there. We can fill them with fear, maybe even forbid them from walking to school? Deny them the pleasure of experiencing the world as it was also created for them, because of fear! We can talk about the lurking predator, the boogyman under the bed, the snake in the weeds, but the more we talk about things the more we draw them into our lives, the more we create them in our own reality.

I understand the passion that drives strong alfa men such as a professional football player to want to protest bullying when they have seen it and maybe even experienced it themselves. I can also understand that with their strength, fame, wealth, and position in society the thoughts of not standing up to bullying of any kind, seems almost as bad as when the act of violence is being dished out to one of these small helpless children.

But as a medical practitioner and speaking from experience talking about a sickness and fixating on a sickness, this certainly is not the way to fight it. Talking about it does absolutely nothing to removing the sickness germs from society as a whole, and if anything only brings fear into the people as the sickness is being spoken about.

If you want to eradicate a sickness that has plagued a society and you are in a position to really make a difference, teach others how to overcome these afflictions! Just lingering on them, while this does bring awareness, does little to help those who are actually being inflicted by the sicknesses throughout the world.

When there is sickness plaguing society, the people who are afflicted with the issues, they need information as to how they might overcome and become healthy, and then if they are truly blessed will discover how they have become stronger from the experience. 

“What doesn’t kill us makes us stronger!”

Taking a knee, in this case, also appears to many people as a direct slandering to our National Anthem, and thus an insult to the many people who have fought and died for the very freedoms we enjoy. Many people see the protests as a direct protest against the President, maybe it’s a response to President Trump’s criticism, maybe it’s the time line of where these protests suddenly appear, maybe not?

It really matters little as to exactly the intention of each and every participant of the protest, it is the implied intention of those who are the observers of the protest in their own analyzation, as to the relative effectiveness and message each and every protest portrays, that issues and effect, the desired effect on the canvas of the image itself being portrayed is based purely on the observer individually.

From the standpoint of the health care practitioner, one that choses to treat the cause and not just the symptom of a particular injury, I would prefer to see the efforts and reputations, not to mention the revenue lost on this protest, used for the education, enhancement of the people who might suffer from the injustices these attacks may cause, and efforts to help victims overcome and create a better life. This kind of action would bring Good attention to the storm and effects, thus stimulate positive, and not just fixate on the darkness and the disease talking about the problem offering no solution. Plus peoples attention would be placed on the problem nation wide in a good way without the slander of disgracing the flag.

Teach these victims how to cope and overcome if they happen to suffer from such an attack. Reassure them that they are created no different then anyone else by God, the only difference is their particular location in the world, and the time of their birth. We all have our own burdens and difficulties to deal with through this journey we call life, and each of us is ultimately on a journey to discover life, and in doing so have choices to turn to light or dark each and every  moment of every day even in our perceptions.

We all are created with our own difficulties and victories.

By Peter Colla

“Dear Jesus, help me to bring attention to the light, help others to overcome, and thus bring more light into the world, and not dwell on the darkness, no matter how dark it may present itself to be.”

Posted in Affordable Care Act, Battle, Changes In Government, Changes In Health Care, Charity, Christian, Christianity, Discipleship, God and Healing, Healing, Health, Health Care, Health Care Reform, Home Health, Medicine, NFL Football, Physical Therapy, President, President Trump, Protest, Relationship, Spiritual Healing, Spiritual Warfare, Touch, Uncategorized, Wealth, Wellness | Leave a comment

Jesus the First Therapist; Excerpt and Introduction

Looking out the windows of light, a person cannot but possibly see all that is in the moment of this reality, the new venture, the unwanted adventure, the white untouched canvas of unexpected realization; there is so much out there yet to discover, there is a complete and wonderful creation waiting to be discovered on the other side of the voyage.

So was one such day, so is many such days, but are they all not just the same when corralled by then responsibilities and the ever encompassing functions that surround the regular day. A morning awakening, its ritual coffee with the ever present need to attend that schedule we have so feverishly attached to ourselves. Giving yet another day in the long list of calendar rehearsals as they play so solemnly past like the ever never ending march of soldiers following step from the one before pressing forward to not halter the ones behind, stepping on in silent but rhythmic procession, keeping step in their ever present form, the routine set down before them by powers not quite understood and seldom fathomed.

A person can find themselves on a journey sometimes hardly knowing the ship has sailed, little do they know they have inadvertently stepped abroad, some stowaway wondering onto valiant voyage to distant shores yet unknown and undiscovered. I think such a day was also for me in such days, because in and around the sets of days broader expanses of realization began to find their way into the supple dispositions of my mind. I guess I was on a journey to discover health.

Existing in the health care profession, as many would tell you, especially after many years of practicing, the stream of people coming through the door, all with their eyed wide in expectation for what; an answer, a little tidbit of information that may lead to ease of burden, a reduction of irritation, the subtle elevation of burden carried by them, in this present and clear torment the irritation of the storms journey has presented them thus far? And what, can you give them anything, you haven’t given to a hundred, maybe a thousand others prior to these, regardless of the situation or structures of the facilitator that brought forth the issuing event in the first place?

You find yourself in such a present model, and over the course of so many years merely a provider of regurgitated leaflets of information that vary if anything from one to the other with as little variation as one might see in looking at the difference between aspirin pills in a bottle. This monogamy starts over time to inflict a more questionable realization in ones heart as to what exactly are you doing here? Are you really helping anyone? And whats the meaning of it all?

In such days, I found myself wondering and asking, if there is more, and if so what?

Still here I am driving down the long morning road, the images playing through the glass as mirages of worlds flowing past like islands across the horizon of some far off sailing soul, one cannot but sometime wonder the worlds of the lives swimming in the lands just out of touch yet passed by each and every day. I would like to make a difference, and how can that be, what must I do, to actually be relevant in these peoples life?

So is the tasks and the course of each day presenting itself also in a never ending line of people waiting for the rations of care given them for the injuries that they are rehabilitating from. So is the task and daily outlook for the therapist who has performed his care giving duties for last twenty-five plus years.

Such a day, same as many, most, no probably all of them, and while the care does change from time to time in a larger scope per injury or body part, the regiment is primarily the same and issued out like rations to a waiting hungry orphan for another morsel, hoping to relieve that hunger pain or fill some kind of hole left by the tragedy he or she has not quite completely returned from.

So to find myself wanting, a place not common in like, and less desirable then one might think if a more perspective look is examined from afar. Wanting in the area of satisfaction, satisfaction as to understanding in one’s self, as to; “Am I really making a difference, am I really helping?” What and exactly is the deference between what I attempt to do, and the actually healing that has been spoken of so often through history? Demonstrated with more clarity at least once in history as to a pure healing is really possible and what is lacking to sustain it on a regular and recurring basis?

I have heard it said; “God would that all of us were healed” as well as many other statements that seem to relate to the picture of an ideal that disease like sin, common in many ways, is not permanent, and the only thing one needs to be healed from any ailment is merely find faith.

Perplexing thought, given the examinations of many cases in my own mind regarding “Why do some heal and others don’t?” This question sits in my head as I ponder the thought driving down the hill. I have from occasion ask God very direct and specific questions, while most of the time all I seem to receive is the silent quietness that one often associates with a teacher not answering a question in the middle of a lesson, because the question has no impact at all on the lesson at hand or can in itself actually perpetuate more of a distraction from the point if addressed.

But I too have had more of an experience recently with asking and actually have some kind of answer follow, whether by direct word such as something immediately coming out of the radio or tv that answered the question. On occasion an image that when recorded or spoken actually answers the question exactly, and sometimes and not as often as I would like, even in almost distinct and all out audible words playing forth in my head.

Today was such a day.

“I would that everyone was healed.”

I heard it almost as clear as a spoken word sitting right next to me. The understanding of what I had come to know as God’s Voice, is not as much specific to me as it would seem, just resting inside the pondering mind of myself.

There is a deep resonance to it, a voice much like my own yet deeper and older than I have ever heard. There is a peacefulness about it that seems to not only exhibit tranquility but emirates itself in the very moment it is heard. An interesting fact is every time I hear the Voice of God, all other sounds in the universe seem to suddenly become conspicuously quiet, as if only the very sounds that I am hearing are the only important things I could be concerned with or should be.

Also without really understanding exactly the essence of what I am trying to describe, there is a sort of harmony to the voice, as if filled with an infinite accompanying of orchestra or some kind of soft choir just below the surface of my perception. That and everything I ever hear, when it appears to be from God, is completely different then any point or opinion I may have thought myself, much more wise or simplistic, seeming to cut a groove into my mind who’s memory transcends years and not just moments, as the many of the other thoughts or images that flow in or off my head seemingly do throughout the day.

“So if you would that everyone would be healed, what is stopping them, why do only a few seemed to be healed?” I said almost not exactly expecting an answer.

“They Are!”

“People are healed every moment of every day. They are from the first morning of the first day they breath a breath, or utter a sound.”

“To understand the nature of healing one must first examine and understand the aspects of exactly what is going on. A person cannot understand, let alone hope to fight a battle if they are looking in the wrong direction or blind to exactly what forces are attacking.”

“Infirmities of all types, whether they be sicknesses, injuries, or afflictions that can last a lifetime, are attacks from the outside. People believed this once and today there needs to be a relearning of what is believed about these things.”……….

The Introduction chapter and excerpts from; “Jesus The First Therapist”

By Peter Colla

Posted in Changes In Health Care, Christian, Christianity, Discipleship, God and Healing, Healing, Health, Health Care, Health Care Reform, Home Health, Intercessory, Jesus, Love, Medicine, Natural Medicine, Nature, Orthopedics, Prayer, Spiritual Healing, Spiritual Warfare, Wealth, Wellness | Leave a comment