by Dan Edmund
Chapter 34 - Of Work, Pain and Healing Wounds
Upon returning to the cave, I related all that had happened, including the appearance of the angel, and my incredible vision of Jenny. In the old world, the world of pain and death, the telling of such tales would have been usually met with ridicule. Yet not so in Paradise World, where all things were now seemingly possible. The rising of the truly dead was now treated as no more stranger than the reviving of the clinically dead had been. So too with the appearances of visions and angels. We now also accepted them as readily as people used to accept the reality of disembodied voices coming out of radios and telephones. All of us were now confident in Ron Bristol's eventual rehabilitation into our world, and we thus gladly followed the schedule that had been given to us by our angelic guide, which anyway turned out to be very similar to the way we had originally planned. Therefore, early next morning, I escorted Flo to the top of the mountain. Although still cold, the day was now sunny and clear, and the scenery once more breathtaking.
However, upon arrival, I again felt uneasy, the depression here almost palpable due to my heightened sense of awareness. Flo too could feel it. We therefore hesitatingly stepped onto the rickety porch and called out to George. The door swung open and a relieved George Patterson appeared. He patted my shoulder, then warmly embraced his wife. "Gosh, I'm sure glad to see you!"
"What's happened, honey? Are you okay?" Flo asked.
He gave a wry smile. "Yeah, as good as could be expected. But it sure was no fun staying the night with him! He still won't look at me, and when I force him to talk, he just mumbles something I can't understand." He then exhaled a loud, exasperated sigh. "Angel or no angel, miracle or none, I can tell you, this won't be no picnic!"
Flo gave him another hug. "Hey, hon, that doesn't sound like you. Of course it will work! With all the miracles that have happened, things will turn out okay."
He nodded, then waved us inside. The room was now warmer, the fire burning more brightly. Ron was sitting on his bed, his eyes focusing on us, but otherwise not responding to our attempts at communication.
Flo, now in her mantle as a clinical psychologist, looked perplexed. "Hmm, he's showing acute withdrawal symptoms." She looked up at us, then commenced with her psychobabble. "In the old world, I've seen cases of catatonic schizophrenia in which the patient remained in a fixed stuporous state for hours, even days!" Then, as if addressing a fellow professional colleague, she asked, "Has there been any noticeable behavioral changes since yesterday?"
"No, there hasn't, except once, when he pleaded for a fix! He went suddenly all nuts. Kept screaming that there were ants crawling all over his body."
Flo nodded. "Common symptoms for cocaine addicts. What else, George?"
"Well, nothing. I went to him and tried to calm him down. Didn't work, and then I tried prayer, and again nothing, at least at first. But then slowly he got calmer, and finally he fell asleep. However, when I went back to bed, I couldn't sleep anymore. I tell you, staying with him for the night is like staying in a loony bin!"
"But we were assured by John that he would be all right," I reminded him.
George nodded. "I know, and I believe it, only it ain't easy."
I then suggested prayer again. However, even after prayer, Ron continued to sit motionless, staring blankly ahead of him. Flo then tried some psychotherapy, which reminded me of Harry. I again wondered why all this was necessary. Why were psychologically scarred people only cured partially, and not totally and instantly by the miracle?
"Because it also helps the helper," came the invisible voice once more. "Work and sometimes pain are necessary for spiritual growth."
"What! Who said that?" Flo asked.
"That's the angel, John," I replied.
Again, the angel materialized in front of us.
"Wow! This is incredible!" Flo gasped.
"Try again, but use more kindness and love," the angel advised. "This, together with spiritual help, will bring greater benefits than what you are doing. However, you know this already."
Flo nodded, then dropped her mantle as a detached clinical psychologist. The angel gave once more his serene smile and vanished. By his lack of reaction, I was sure Ron had not noticed our angelic visit. However, Flo certainly was affected. She suddenly became almost motherly as she placed a hand on Ron's cheeks. "It's all right," she soothed. "You're amongst friends who are trying to help you get out of here and down to Paradise." Her voice softened even further. "If you like, you can stay with George and me. You already know George, and he has told me all about your momma, and how good she was."
Ron turned his gaze towards her.
"You love your momma, don't you?"
"What?"
The word was barely above a whisper, more like a gruff mumble, but enough to encourage Flo. "I said, you love your momma, don't you?"
A long pause followed, then a faint nod.
"And you want to see your momma, don't you? Well, honey, you will!"
His eyes opened wide. "Mo...mma?" he stammered.
"Yes, honey, although I can't tell you exactly when. But she'll be here before you'll know it. Meanwhile, you'll enjoy living with us. We live even nicer than those white folks that live along those classy homes around Central Park! Oh, Ron, you won't believe how beautiful it all...."
Thus, step-by-step, with the power of God and love, Ron was brought out of his tormented shell. Other days followed, each day getting slightly better. George again became the tower of strength that he was; Flo remained the caring, motherly counselor; Carlos, with his prayers and instructions, became the spiritual mentor; my mother, the concerned bystander; and my father, with his rustic and jolly personality, the humor that eased the transition and healing pains.
A week later, the angel told Carlos that we could return to Deer Park. Therefore, our divine mission of mercy had ended, and we left Ron in the loving hands of George and Flo in the miracle cave below. Six months later, Ron entered Paradise.
