What I Need Is Proof!


From the desk of George Barnard - November 29, 2003

"It’s A Promise."

Peter Crighton had for many years been an editor. Now he was a print buyer, in business for himself, and so successful, he kept many a print shop humming at all hours. He looked to be about fifty years of age.

Seated across from my desk, he also looked most surprised, doubting, and seemingly convinced "this guy George Barnard" had long ago lost the storyline. Crighton had just skimmed about a dozen pages of one of my 11:11 manuscripts.

"I’m just an average guy," he told me. "I’ve been married for twenty-nine years. I’ve got three boys and one girl. I go to church with my family every Sunday, and not ever…" He paused, and gave me one more of those "you-poor-demented-sod" looks. "…not ever, not once, have I experienced anything in my life that is even remotely mysterious, psychic, spiritual, coincidental, even odd."

"Your life is about to change," I told him, wondering where that idea had come from. "Something quite remarkable will happen," I added. "It’s a promise."

Now I knew my Spirit Guardian friends were at work, and had made me say those words.

Crighton pointed at the manuscript. "That’s so far out," he told me, "I don’t think many people will ever believe what you wrote. What I need is proof of the hereafter!"

"Let me know when something spiritual happens to you, Peter. You’ve got my phone number. It should take no more than two or three days."

No Egg On My Face.

Peter Crighton had left, and I was loudly proclaiming to the 1,111 Spirit Guardians that if they made me say things like that, they had better make sure there was soon going to be a minor miracle. I considered the father of four young adults to be an important new contact with whom I would likely be doing a fair amount of business.

Although the Spirit Guardians often made me say things, it was important for their predictions to eventuate. I didn’t want any egg on my face, and, besides, the faith of the religious churchgoer could be strengthened when something "otherworldly" would come about, and within the stated time.

Two days later, Peter Crighton telephoned me. Something had happened, and that something had given him enough proof there really was a "hereafter." The proof had come in the form of a message left by a thirteen-year-old, and written some hours before she died as a result of a grand mal epileptic seizure.

Crighton would send me a copy of the child’s writing in the mail.

This (below) is it:

Don’t be late. KOMERLI.

(This story was written by Kathryn Mary Murray, 13, about eight hours before her sudden, unexpected death.)

"Youth Everlasting."

I heard a tinkle of a bell. I wished to look out of my window. I saw next door a window lit with light; then I heard a bang. Then I watched the most exciting thing you could ever imagine happening to me. Sparks of gay colored light flashed out of the window of next door to mine. It felt like magic; it was like an impulse. It made me run from my bedroom into the room where the flashes of light came from.

As I entered I could see nothing because the room was too bright, but I heard this, "The ring on your left finger is to come back, just say home, and it will bring you home. The ring on your right finger is to go on, just say go on, and you will." Then with a puff of smoke I vanished. A few minutes later I found myself in a place that looked very dull and uninviting, but all of a sudden a strange thing happened. A big golden lion appeared and started singing. Out of his mouth came beautiful sound. Then grass, trees, mountains, streams, flowers and animals sprang up from nowhere, and the land looked like paradise. Then the lion sang something else and little people started appearing. Soon there was an entire village of young people. I plucked up some courage and went to the lion. Then I said, "Here am I. Who are you?"

"I am Komerli, the lion of youth, and you are, my dear, in the land of youth everlasting, where none grows older than twenty. May I ask what you are doing here in my land?"

"Well, Sir, I woke up and looked out of my bedroom window and saw some gay colored lights. As I watched, something made me run out of my room into the room next door. When I entered, I could see nothing, but I heard this, ‘the ring on your right finger is to go on.’"

"Mmmmmm," said the lion. "Do you want to stay here for a while, or do you want to go home?"

For a while, I thought, and said, "What have I got to lose, I might as well stay here. Is that alright, Sir?"

"Yes, but stop calling me Sir. Call me Komerli. Okay? Come, let’s find a place for you to stay."

As we walked together, I said, "Komerli, can I bring my family here?"

"Let me think for a while. Ask me that later on. Okay?"

© 11:11 Progress Group.
Toujours au Service de Michael.

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