The Power of Healing

Few people are given the chance to feel the presence of the Lord during the celebration of a healing mass. I am blessed to be one of them…

I will not go into details about what happened to me on the night of September 7, 2012. Let’s just say that my blood pressure has risen to 220/110—my first time. I was rushed to Jose L. Amante Emergency Hospital, went home after three hours and had several laboratory tests the next day at Healthway Festival.

As I waited for my cardiologist, I experienced panic attack and my blood pressure increased again at 150/100. I went to Asian Hospital and was placed under emergency care. After an hour or two, my blood pressure lowered to 120/80. I felt super fine.

Or so I thought.

I began to feel weak later in the evening. My cousins (Alvin and Morris) and my sister Anna brought me to Perpetual Help Medical Center in Binan, Laguna. I was only under observation at the emergency unit but I opted to be confined immediately. At that very moment, I feared that something might happen to me. The images of that fateful night kept coming back to my mind…

 I heard knocks at my door. It was from Gelo, my 11-year-old nephew. He asked me to rush. “Si Nanay! Si Nanay!” I heard him saying as he ran. I hurried to their place, found my mom unconscious and saw my eldest sister and cousins trying to revive her… I just looked at her. Her face was so pale... We brought her to Asian Hospital. At first, I kept on talking to her. But hours have passed and she's not improving... I knew then, we would lose her... 

Yes, we did. But the image of her face that night hunts me until now...  

After three days, I was discharged from the hospital. But after only a couple of days, I was back again. The culprit: low sodium. My doctor said I could have fainted. Good thing it did not happen. After four days, I was out of the hospital.

One… two… three weeks have passed and I felt the same. There was no improvement in my condition. My eldest sister Didith called for a priest to bless our house. Luckily, it was Father John Tabot who came. He invited me to his healing mass on the coming Friday and I did.

While hearing the mass, I felt very weak. I was having second thoughts about finishing the celebration. It was as if somebody was pushing me to get out of the church because nothing good will happen. Surprisingly, it was like this when I went to hear mass at Sto. Sepulcro Parish Church in Landayan a week ago. But I prayed and vowed to stay—even when I felt that I am to faint in no time.

While lined up in front of the altar for Fr. John's blessing, my eyes caught the image of Jesus in the cross. I began to mumble “Lord, heal me… Please, heal me…” Those were the only words that I kept on saying. Tears began to fall. I did not know what was happening to me. It wasn’t me. But I was really crying. When Father John approached me and touched me in my forehead and said a prayer, I closed my eyes, cried with soft voice and felt like I was floating. My body was so light as if my spirit was about to go. Or, was it God's spirit that's lifting me? Before I could get the answer, I found myself falling from my back...

After the mass, I felt so good and so strong. I knew then, I was off to recovery. So I promised myself to blog about it here in Google before anything else so I can spread the good news. This may not be a post related to my travels but this is a journey that I want to share first and foremost.