In the last blog post, I wrote about how all my priorities shifted at the beginning of the year 2018 after my stepfather died on 29 Dec. 2017.  All the things that had seemed so important faded into insignificance and dealing with the aftermath of death took precedence.

remembrance, loved one

My stepfather

Before I published the last blog post, (No. 47 Perfect Communication and a Perfect Storm) I was reading through it and editing. This was on Friday morning last week before taking my mum to the gym for her post knee-op rehabilitation session with her private trainer.

The phone rang suddenly.  It was my mum’s trainer.  In great distress she told me that a man had had a heart attack on one of the machines at the gym and she had called the ambulance.  She warned us not to come if we did not want to see a man who might not make it.  I was not concerned.  I asked the trainer if the man was her client and if she needed to be with him.  She said “No.”  So I said we would still come and she was fine with that.  I figured that the man would have probably been taken to hospital by the time we got there.  I did not realise how serious the incident was.

When we arrived at the gym, the trainer was in even more distress.  The ambulance had arrived and the paramedics were doing their best but it did not look good.

I walked downstairs to the loos so that I could have a quiet chat with the man who seemed to be on the edge of life and death.  I asked him if he wanted to stay or go.  I sensed he wanted to stay.  So I told him he had to fight to bring himself back because I could feel he was more out of his body than in.  I prayed for him.  Back upstairs, I sat down to comfort one of the female gym members who was crying uncontrollably.  As I sat rubbing her back, I had a direct view of the man on the floor even though the gym manager had tried to shield both him and the paramedics from onlookers.  His chest rose and fell violently, like a lifeless balloon that was being blown up and then instantly deflated.  The paramedics were doing their best to keep him alive but I could sense it was to no avail.  The woman who had been crying turned to face me, her eyes reddened and her face ashen, and told me she had to leave to go to a funeral that afternoon.

As the man lay on the floor, a few metres away from me, I could only see the top of his head   As I looked at him, there was a moment when I saw his energy shift and his skin went grey.  I knew it was over, his spirit had left.  I silently told the paramedics that they could stop trying to jump-start his heart: it was too late. Of course, they knew and they stopped in that instant.

The trainer was distraught and in no position to train anyone.  I tried to get coffee for her but the manager had closed the cafe in the gym – it was too close to where the paramedics were working and now covering up the body in silver foil so that it could eventually be discreetly removed.

gym, cafe, coffee, conversation

Cafe area of the gym

Mum and I then offered to take the trainer to the hotel cafe on the 13th floor.  She had cancelled her next client and was relieved to get out of the gym with us.  Once seated, we listened to her and fed her hot tea with honey to help her deal with the shock.  She knew the dead man from her Schul as well as from the gym and she was berating herself for not doing more to save him.  Actually she was the one who had had the presence of mind to call the ambulance and run down to the street to show the ambulance driver the best way to enter the building in order not to lose precious time.

We finished our drinks and I offered to go back to the gym to validate our parking tickets but the trainer said that we should just follow her to the exit and she would explain to the parking guards what had happened and they would then let us out.

“Where are you parked?”  she asked

“4th floor,”  we answered

“Oh me too!  Lets go down together and I will show you where my car is.”

We got out of the lift on the 4th floor and both of us automatically turned left towards our cars.  That was already weird because most of the parking space is on the right side of the lifts.  The trainer asked us where we were parked .

“Right here,” we said.

‘Me too,” she said.  Miraculously, in among the 400 plus parking spaces in the multi-storey car park, we were parked right behind her new car which we had, of course, not recognised.  Therefore, we were perfectly ready to follow her out.

Parking miracle

As we drove away, much later than if my mum had had a regular hour of training, I realised that once again the Law of Attraction had been in operation upon my thoughts.  I had been thinking about how priorities change when someone dies and immediately manifested a man dying at the gym and priorities shifting to taking care of the trainer rather than mum’s rehabilitation exercises.

Where is your attention focused?  And what are you consciously or unconsciously expanding in your experience?  Leave a comment below.

Appreciating the miracle of global communication via technology.

All blessings,

Rev. Steph

“The Miracles of Earth are the Laws of Heaven” – Johann Richter

If you would like to read more of Rev. Steph’s blog posts on the theme of “Miracles, Miss-Stories and Metaphysical Musings,” please go here.

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