By Kathryn Kuhlman
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Extra info for 10,000 miles for a miracle
But that can't be arranged for two weeks," the doctor replied. "Then I'll be back in two weeks," I said. "If I live that long," I added, chuckling. I had meant it as a joke. But as I turned to leave the clinic, I had to fight off a dark foreboding that my words bordered on being prophetic. Back home that afternoon I went through the motions of preparing the evening meal. Since the war beef was plentiful in Australia, and Jack's gentle hug as he came in and smelled roast was all the reward I needed.
I wanted to dance. I wanted to stretch my arms all the way through the elegant ceiling, through the clouds, all the way to the throne of heaven. Praise! What a wonderful word. Oh, how I praised Him! 7. All That Counted Was Jesus I kept wanting to pull my eyes down and look at Miss Kuhlman. After all, I had come ten thousand miles to see her. But I could not look at her. I realized I had not come all the way from Australia to see Kathryn Kuhlman. I had come to see Jesus. To be touched by Him. It suddenly made no difference whether Kathryn Kuhlman was on stage or not.
You have an accumulation of fluid in your lung cavities. Edema. You're literally drowning and I've got to correct it immediately. I'm going for a hypodermic. " Things were reeling by that time. I could hear some of the words; the rest drifted off into space. I knew Jack was pacing back and forth in front of the window. Bruce had left the room, weeping. The pain, raging through my chest, was worse than it had ever been. I was dying. Then I was aware of David Reekie standing over me. He was praying.
10,000 miles for a miracle by Kathryn Kuhlman