My small son was so very ill last night. He woke up with a fever and with his arms and legs twitching. The fever climbed two degrees in an hour and a half – then plateaued. His face was blotchy with angry red patches. He cried and cried and said, ‘Momma, I need medicine’. At 1:30 in the morning it finally broke with sweat drenched pillows and blankets. Poor little one. The next morning I was worried. The fever was back, though not as high – however he had no other symptoms of cold or flu – so what was the fever fighting?

I went to my kitchen altar and prayed to the ancestors – namely, my grandmother, my husband’s step-father who passed recently, my Nana and his Granny and a few other friends who have passed. I also pray here to the guardian that I perceived in a past journey and to any other helper spirits who may be there helping me and whoever is watching over my family. I lit candles and incense and left offerings, and said nothing other than things like, ‘please keep my child healthy and safe – please keep your great grand-son healthy – please keep him safe.’ Throughout the morning I went back a few times and left more offerings. I kept the beeswax candle I have there lit as well. I released my worry and my fear and sadness, in earnest to the altar. I brought my feelings to them and unloaded.

Around 10:30 am my son sat up suddenly and threw up all over the sofa.

I, tut-tutting, picked him up and ran a warm bath, bathed him and let him sit in the soapy water to relax, where he stared into space with the malaise of sickness. After I brought him out, got him dressed in soft clothes and back to the (other) sofa I gave him glass of juice for his blood sugar.

An oldy - unknown origin

Five minutes later he was not sick anymore. His fever was gone, his colour was normal and he was up and running around the house like usual – telling me stories, playing with his cars and trains and asking for food. I was quite taken aback. I have never seen a fever go quite that quickly before. He is still well now – it didn’t return.

So – was it the juice I gave him? Was it the throwing up that made him feel so much better? Perhaps, perhaps. But, if I am to be paying attention, I can’t ignore the fact that I was praying too, I was praying a lot. My son, though sturdy, rosy of lip and cheek and robust of health, has an occasional bout of asthma, and we don’t vaccinate (I know – hyper political issue insert – sorry), needless to say, when he gets sick I get quite worried in spite of myself and my convictions.

I felt quite certain at the time, when he seemed to get better within the space of five minutes, literally, that they had been listening and that they had helped him. I am also certain now, that even though I can’t perceive these beings in a way that I am used perceiving input to my senses, that they are there – and that perhaps it is because I’ve been coming to the altar every day for months now, laying offerings down and giving thanks, that they are able to come to my aid so strongly, and quickly. … I also wondered if healing a sick boy might be something so simple for them; that it would be like a snap of the finger.

I’m inspired! I have an experiment I want to try – I’ll post it later.

; ) from the Isle

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