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Message: <blockquote data-quote="TheAlkaizer" data-source="post: 8802166" data-attributes="member: 7024893">Not myself (that I can remember) but I got two stories to share. A short one and a long one. Neither happened to me.Grandmother's storyI learned some years ago that my grandmother had a gift. My mom said "Your grandmother could arrêter le feu. (stop the fire" What she meant by that is that she could prevent the pain from burns through touching and voice. She said that many years ago, my mom burned herself with hot milk when I was a baby, and my grandmother started mumbling and touching her arm and said something like "It's done. The fire's gone. No burn for you," and my mom was fine. I took it as a funny story.But I met some other members of my family years later when I visited my father's natal village and several people came to me saying "Oh, you're the grandson of Jeanne," and very quickly in the conversation they'd tell me how they'd always go see her when there was burn and how she could mumble something and instantly the burns wouldn't hurt anymore. Some even said that they could just call her and she'd talk them through it and the burns would stop hurting.I always wanted to talk to my grandmother about it, but unfortunately she passed away the next year.Uncle's storyThe story has three characters: my mother, my uncle and the man.My uncle is a painter. He lives on the street in Quebec City and paints for tourists. He's done it for years. He doesn't earn a ton of money but he's always been very happy.A few years ago, let's say four, he had an accident while carrying his equipment and he hurt the index finger on his right hand. The part of the finger from the tip to the first phalanx became crooked. The rest of his finger could move normally and be straight, but the first phalanx was always bent. He sent pictures to my mother (whose a nurse) and she said that he should see a doctor; most likely he had a fracture and the bone was stuck or something (I don't remember).So my uncle is not one that really goes to the doctor. So he waited for months. But eventually he goes. He writes back to my mother saying that she was right in her diagnostic but also that he went too late and that the bones fused together (or something) and that his doctor said it was not really possible to fix it now. That was bad news because it made it hard for my uncle to paint.Comes Christmas and I see my uncle. I see his crooked finger, we talk about it. I witness it. It's impossible to straighten the tip of his finger.Next year, he goes to a doctor in Ontario but he gets the same diagnostic. "We can't do much, it's too late." So at this point, my uncle just accepts that this is the way things are.Later in the summer, he leaves a lot of his possessions behind and moves to spain to paint for tourist and visit a different country. He settles in Granada and spends the summer painting to earn enough money to eat and supply his painting and he sleeps in the nearby networks of caves (google it, it's really interesting).At one point in the summer, it's sunset and my uncle is sitting next to the beach sipping a coffee reading a book. An older man sits next to him. They sit in silence for a few minutes. The man starts chatting. "Who are you?", "Where do you come from?" Very quickly, it turns an interesting conversation where two strangers share their life. The old man says that he's an healer. The conversation keeps going.Eventually, the old man notices my uncle's finger and asks him what's up with it. My uncle explains all of it to him. The old man moves one seat closer to my uncle and says "Let me see." He takes my uncle's finger and asks him more question. My uncle starts blabbering, eyes locked on the sunset while the old man inspects his finger and eventually wraps his own fingers around it and starts massaging it gently. Lost in his discourse, my uncle doesn't pay much attention to it and he just blabbers for a minute or two.When he's done, the old man lets go and says he has to go. But he thanks my uncle for the nice conversation, they wave and he goes. It takes several minutes before my uncle takes out some stuff to paint and then notices something. His finger is straight again. He sends a picture of his finger against the sunset to my mother, but she doesn't understand. "What's up with that picture?" and he's like "Don't you see?" It takes a few minutes for my mother to notice that his finger is straight. She video calls him and they talk about it and my uncle says that the old man healed him. He shows how his finger is mobile and works just like it did before.My mother has no idea how it's physically possible. She saw the X-rays at the hospital, it's not possible.</blockquote>

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