Dear ones,

I had planned on writing a little essay on how Dr. S's program helped me through PMS week. I will tell you that I was diagnosed with PMDD- Pre-menstrual Dysphoric Disorder, which is PMS gone haywire. I took Paxil for about 6 months, an antidepressant that is mostly prescribed for SAD- Societal Anxiety Disorder. Paxil is made from St. John's Wort. I just didn't like the idea of living on drugs for the rest of my pre- menopause days so I got off of it. All this to say, I have barely realized it has been PMS week. I snapped at one of my children only once. I didn't have any trouble with dyslexia at all. Praise God! That's a testimony in itself!

I'm going to talk to my cells. I've been talking to "the girls"- that's what I call my cells, trillions of them- all with xx chromosomes, 100% female. LOL

Girls-
You know that we were fearfully and wonderfully made. You know that God knew us and knitted us from the dark place within my mother's womb, and that God created us for a beautiful purpose- to be a daughter of God, living a holy and sanctified life, nurturing and loving others with the love of Jesus Christ.

You know probably better than I do that something triggered FSHD in our body. You know well of the stresses I put on this body, of the wrong choices physically and emotionally. You know some choices were made in ignorance, and some in complete awareness and intention. You know well of the evil thoughts I once entertained to destroy this body and end its life. You know that only Christ's light and love sustained us during these dark trials.

As a result, I believe that some of our sister cells, muscle cells in Q4D4, started to malfunction and start a chain reaction of muscle degeneration the doctors call FSHD.

Dear girls, you are incredibly smart. I have taught high school biology three times now and still can't remember all of the parts of the cell. You have an inner knowing of what to do. You obey God by instinct. You do what you were created to do in an intricate worship dance before our Loving Father. Anyone who opens up a cadever in medical school or even just looks under a microscope can't help but worship the Creator of the most wonderful creature on Earth. You are perfect.

Girls, I want you to do something for me. I want you to please forgive me for mistreating you for so long. You are so sweet to respond so well to the new, healthy things I am doing for you. Thank you so much. You are like the little golfish jumping out of the aquarium when I feed you cantaloupe, carrot juice, cucumbers, and blueberries. I can feel you springing back to life now that you are getting clean and I am giving you healing herbs to work with. Thank you for forgiving me.

Now, as the higher self above the body, the spirit, I give you a new command. I command you, in the name of Jesus Christ, to give the muscle cells in q4d4 enough genes in my DNA to reverse FSHD. You know what to do. I will not allow my foolish mind to stand in the way and say this is stupid. Do it now, in Jesus' name.

Those of you who are Christians, and any one else who will agree with me, please pray for me right now as you read this. Right now, I proclaim by faith, that Jesus Christ's stripes when He was whipped before His crucifiction and subsequent death on the cross are sufficient to heal me of muscular dystrophy.

Girls, you have the power and authority to do this now. Help our dear weak sister muscle cells. Help any other cells involved that I don't know about. Cause the mutated genes to be made right again. Send healing messages to them. Loving messages. Joyful messages. Messages full of light and wisdom from God. Do your work. Replace the sick, weak cells with new, vibrant, living, healthy, STRONG cells.

Let us say together that FSH is a thing of the past. Let us walk, run, leap, dance, lift, throw, lifting up the weak arms which hang down, lifting up holy hands in praise.

In Your mercy, dear Lord Jesus, heal me now.
By faith, I no longer have FSH.
Lord, I believe, help my unbelief.

In Jesus' Name, AMEN.

This is a HUGE leap of faith to send this message. My mind says this is stupid and embarrassing. But how bad do I want to get well? Bad enough to click on the "send message" button. I'm crying as I do it. Please believe with me.

Thanks,
-Donna