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DrMendoza110202ProgressGroup_Answers&More

Illawarra District, New South Wales, Australia,

Teachers: Secondary Midwayer, Dr. Mendoza. MNO-8

Morontia Cherubim, "I'll be Frank".

Subjects: "Answers and More."

Received by George Barnard.

November 2, 2002.

Dr. Mendoza: "It is I who proudly call you my colleague, my brother, but first and foremost one of my closest friends. They are those (mortals) who consciously work with us on combined tasks that help give us more of the lasting emotional strength, courage, and the vibrant enthusiasm to carry on, undeterred, and from age to age, for it is this being accepted by those of lower ranking (humans) we also greatly prize. And, yes, I am pleased to answer the questions you posed.

"I have indeed shown up (materialized) many times, in many hospitals, and for all persons present to clearly see me. I have indeed frequently "wiggled my way into places" where some of my brothers and sisters already prepared the human minds to instantly accept me as one of their kind. It is however much of my routine involvement to work in South America, and with many more healers than the individual (Jao de Deo) you indicated, yes, also with our brother, Arigo (Arigo, "Surgeon of the rusty knife") in his time.

"Predominantly, my work is in the Spanish-speaking world where it is most needed, and where so many require even simple operations that cannot be afforded. And it is because of that, that whatever language I need to employ, it has the Spanish flavor shining through, that accent by which you detect me mind to mind.

"I want to remind you now of a healing exercise in which we both played our part. It goes back to the summer of 1959. (snipped - see the accompanying submission, "Call it a Miracle."). [Editor’s Note: Document Appended To This Transcript]

"It was your dear friend the, shall we say, rather ebullient brother Isaac, who invited me here today to do a healing with you both. Time is short before you must catch some sleep and awake again. It is a pleasure for me to be with you two, and I assure you, that your mental "picture of my psyche" as a dutiful, somber, hard-working and short-tempered Midwayer is almost correct. Be assured, George, I am never short-tempered." George: "Oh! So glad to hear that! Judging you by my standards, I guess."

Mendoza: "This is Mendoza. I'll hand you over to another now. Goodbye, my friend." George: "See you later, Doc. Thank you."

Frank: "I'll be Frank", George. I'll be frank about the fact that in the last few months we have conducted an experiment with you. You were not advised of this, but we already knew that you would not object. You have on occasions been in intensive treatment, and this was for the sole purpose of us being able to attain better contact with you. The treatment has been completed now, and we sense in your behavior more of that 'positiveness' and laughter, so that we have now removed the intensive load we placed upon you in this trial and error work.

"The citizens of this world still vary so greatly in ancestry and individual make-up, that it represents quite a battle for us analysts to, with any degree of accuracy, point at a correct treatment for all. It varies, yes, and much is experimental. The aches and pains and headaches, stiff joints, bouts of sneezing, nose bleeds, are simply the physiological reactions to the adjustments we recommend, with just that simple goal in mind -- a greater spiritual receptivity for you all to our, at times still fading input.

"Much of this work is in the hands of my kind, the Morontia Cherubim, to diagnose and write up the charts, as you might explain our task to be, in our assisting your doctor friend and others like him. That's all from me, and Sanobim Alice.

"This is me, being "Frank". Over and out."

Notes: Dr. Mendoza reports he was there at the time of the Rosswell crash. Likely he was "the Dr. Mendoza" who worked with the victims of what might well have been an attack on a space ship, not actually a mishap.

The number of Morontia Cherubim on the planet exceeds by millions upon millions the number we would expect to be here for human watchcare. They are into all aspects of mortal life -- health, education, science, and psychology, being just some of these many interests. Frank and Alice are into "Human Psychology", and they have been for hundreds of years.

The healing exercise Dr. Mendoza reminded me of, happened in 1959. It was traumatic and exciting, hard to comprehend, repressed to a degree, and it "slipped over the horizon of my memory". I'll write it up soon, for it might shine some light on the methods of the healer, Jao de Deo, and quite a few others like him.

I have lost track of Arigo. I have no idea of where he now applies his gifts. From what the Doc said, it seems Arigo is now in "a more elevated sphere", but I don't know.

[Appended Document: "Call It A Miracle"]

Call it a Miracle.

Just Mildly Repressed.

In the previous submission Dr. Mendoza remarks: "I want to remind you now of a healing exercise in which we both played our part. It goes back to the summer of 1959. (snipped).

That healing exercise was not recorded in the accompanying transmission. In fact, it has never even been written. And there were no words to record today, either. It was "re-visited", and it was "relived", as if it was happening again, right there and then. It had to be re-lived, because as I understand it now, it has long been mildly repressed, only to partly surface in my mind when a member of my family would remind me of it. It was both, traumatic and exhilarating, but such that one would perhaps tend to push it somewhat to the back of one's mind - "just slightly over the horizon of everyday memory". Because it was frightening!

A Day at the Beach.

The scuba gear, towels, and beach umbrella were packed into our car. The tire pressure all around had been checked, for we would be traveling a rather bumpy road. As I again approached our small dwelling to pick up the last item to take along - a big metal cooler - my then only child stood in the doorway, holding that cooler high. Not yet two years old, she had dragged the heavy cooler from the kitchen, and was holding it up for me to take it from her. There was an expression of great exertion on that puffy little face. That packed cooler was much too heavy for her! Quickly I moved towards her to grab the cooler, but I was too late. She lost her grip and the cooler sheared past the threshold and took the last digit right off her toe.

A Servo Mechanism.

I picked up the child and placed her on the couch. I picked up the severed piece of her toe and dipped it into a jar of solvent, and I then carefully put it back where it had been. I had become a servo-mechanism, a robot, seemingly without a single thought of my own, as I carefully readjusted that piece of cut-off toe to where it belonged. Not for a moment did I realize there was only the minimum of bleeding, and not for an instant did I expect that toe not to heal. Something like it had happened on two other occasions. It was happening now that "an unknown other" controlled my mind. Although our day at the beach was utterly spoiled, there was no longer a sign of any damage to that little foot just hours after that "incredible" healing exercise. I would have to wait still many years to find out who was using me in that way. It was Dr. Mendoza, I later suspected. Now we know.

The Contra Indications to Success.

Consider now this unlikeliest of successes. That heavy metal cooler had a relatively sharp bottom edge - the finest of Pittsburgh joints - and it had made a remarkably clean cut on the big toe of the child's left foot, but it had cut through blood vessels, nerves, connective tissue and muscle, leaving the tiny pieces of the bone exposed. Micro-surgery was in its infancy, and hardly of interest to me. And even if it were advanced, I would have had no idea about treating the wound and conserving that tiny little piece of toe joint with its little nail. I had been "moved to move" and another had entirely controlled my mind. But the strangest thing of all was what I had been made to do with that tiny body part. I had dipped it in turpentine, and if that wasn't horrible enough, that solvent was badly polluted with machine oil.

A Form of Self-Punishment.

The next few hours were devastating to the emotions. As if awakening from a bad dream, I slowly began to realize what I had done. Visions of the youngster having grown to become an attractive teenager, and telling all who wanted to know how her dad had spoiled her every chance to wear high-heeled sandals by not taking her to a doctor at a most crucial time. Unexpectedly, some visitors arrived, and they added to what they perceived to be an urgent need for me to feel extraordinary guilt for what I had done. Worst of all was the mother's reaction to the trauma of the year. She was hysterical, seemingly unaware of any "storyline in normal behavior". Soon I began to doubt that I had made the right move to save that tiny toe. But that little toe was fine, and still does what big toes do. There' s no sign of reduced feeling, not a mark or tiny scar, no evidence whatever of that dreadful Sunday in December of 1959.

A Present Theory Only.

Dr. Mendoza had been there to guide me in that strange healing exercise. He just now claimed it as one of his extraordinary successes of the "business" he is in. Some who witnessed the event still call it a miracle, but I'm no longer buying too many miracles, if any. I witnessed an event that remains unexplained, is all. I have nothing more than a wild, unproved theory. Having control over the 'element' that is time, our helpful Midwayer Buddy may well have been able to reverse time in some way for that toe to again become what it previously was. And perhaps this explains some of the work of Jao de Deo, Arigo, "The surgeon of the rusty knife", my friend, Placido of the Philippines. For that matter, I feel that the dirty, blackened turpentine probably worked just as well as would everyday saliva, smooth peanut butter, or Uncle Dan's salad dressing in that "miraculous" circumstance - the kind of which we will encounter more and more. May God bless these ever-alert Midway Friends at our service.

END