When I visited you last, about four years ago, you were good enough and maybe moved enough to lead me to El Santuario de Chimayo in Chimayo, NM. It was founded in 1802 by Spanish missionary priests. Within two years, pilgrims from all over our country, Mexico, and even South America were coming there to be healed.
You were probably still parking the car as I went up to the front door, opened it, and went inside to the outer vestibule. There, to my right, was an older woman standing in the corner. She said that her name was Sister Ann. I said, "Hi, I'm Bill 'Webster' from New Jersey. I've heard a lot about this place and I'm here to check it out for myself. What do I have to do to be healed?" She liked that question a lot. She came running over next to me, bowed her head, and folded her hands down low in front of her lap. She said, "Well, first you've got to have FAITH. Then, you've got to PRAY. Then, most of the pilgrims that come here go to that small room to the left of the altar where the holy dirt is. They rub it on themselves and they are healed." I thanked her and went on my way.
I hobbled all the way up to the front of the church, to the very first pew in front of the altar. I wasn't going to sit in the back where the "sinners" usually do. I prayed and I prayed my heart out. I asked God to allow me to walk again, but I also asked Him to heal me in every way and to take ALL my pain away.
I'm sure that we all have felt loneliness at some point in our lives, but believe you me, I don't think that anyone has ever felt it as strongly and as painfully as I have. Since I lost my wife, Heidi, in addition to all the other pain, the pain of loneliness was unbearable. It was worse than a throbbing tooth ache. I felt it at all times, even when I was sleeping, even dreaming. It just wouldn't go away.
After I had prayed my heart out, I moved along to step three. As I approached the open door, I could hear all the spooky mumerings and groannings. There were 6 or 7 people in there praying and rubbing holy dirt all over themselves - heads, faces, arms, everywhere. I got down next to the hole in the floor (and that wasn't easy), I pulled up each pants leg, and I prayed again. This time, being a believing Protestant boy who isn't impressed by holy water or holy dirt, I asked thus: "Not my will, but Thy will be done, oh God." Then, I scooped up the holy dirt and rubbed it on my legs. When I was finished and wanted to get up, seven people came in close to me and encircled me to help me. That's when I felt two strong very powerful arms behind me lifting me straight up to a standing position. That was my friend. He's always been strong, but,apparently, he's still got what it takes.
When I was leaving the church, I opened the front door. The bright sunlight beat down warmly on my face and I could feel a gentle breeze blowing softly against me. THE PAIN WAS GONE. It never came back. I haven't been lonely for one minute, not one second ever since. My pain went away in an instant and it's never coming back. This was a MIRACLE. No, it wasn't the holy dirt. It was the power, the absolute power of the HOLY GHOST. Blessed be His name forever! Remember that always. You might be needing Him one of these days. HE'S WAITING.