The Existence of God

Fingers and Worms

Oct 17, 2024

I have never forgotten the moment when I was convinced of the existence of God.

It was in my High School Biology class.

The teacher explained the mechanism by which I am able to move the fingers in my hand.

The movement of the fingers begins in the brain. When we want to use our fingers for grabbing, picking things up, typing, knitting or making a fist, we do not need to think consciously about how our fingers need to move. Our brains know, from experience, what it is that we need to do.

The brain sends signals, through the nervous system, to the muscles in the forearm. The signals from the nerve endings cause individual muscle fibers to contract or relax.

The muscles of the forearm are attached to ligaments that run through the hand to the tips of the fingers. The fingers have bones inside, with joints that work like hinges.

As the muscle fibers, specific to each finger, contract and relax, the individual fingers bend and move. It is the strength and power of the muscles in our forearms that allows us to use our hands in the way that we do.

I sat in that class and stared at my wiggling fingers. I could see the tendons moving underneath the skin. I was amazed by the elegance of the process. I thought “This could not have happened without an inventor who had an idea, an intention and a blueprint.”

I could not move the fingers in my hand unless there had been a creator. There must have been an intelligent being who designed me in the way that I was designed.

As a fiber artist, I use my fingers for everything that I do.

I pull apart soft bits of wool, lay them out carefully on a form, and manipulate them by hand to turn them into a solid fabric.

My fingers grip and move a tiny needle to adorn the wool with colored strings and shiny beads.

With my crochet hook and my yarn, I make structures that hold my wool fabrics together and make them into functional pieces of art.

With my fingers I make loops, tie knots, and create stitches.

I draw pictures and make sculptures with string.

None of this would be possible if I hadn’t been made by God.

He didn’t only have a plan for me. He had a plan for the world.

Every moment of every day, I find God in nature.

Every living thing has its place and its purpose. Individual life continues to exist because all of life works as one.

I recently started raising chickens. Because my chickens love to eat live insects, I bought a kit to raise my own meal worms as chicken feed.

The kit came with two hundred live worms. They currently live in a plastic box with what looks like finely shaved wood at the bottom, called substrate.

I feed carrots to the worms, which I buy from a farmer who, last spring, planted seeds. I place pieces of carrot on top of the substrate. The worms pull them underground and devour them.

Soon, the worms will pupate and grow hard shells around their bodies. They will stay inside of their shells for up to four weeks. When they emerge they will no longer be worms, they will be beetles.

The beetles will copulate. Each female beetle will lay up to one hundred eggs. When the eggs hatch, I will have ten thousand meal worms to feed to my chickens.

I will keep two hundred of these worms and repeat the process, over and over again.

My chickens will be well fed. When they are old enough, they will lay eggs. The menstrual cycle of a chicken is twenty-four hours. Each chicken will lay one egg per day.

The eggs will feed my family.

All of this is possible because, last spring, the farmer planted some carrot seeds.

All of this is possible because God designed life on earth with an intelligent plan.

Each of us is a part of that plan.

If you appreciate my words, please share them with the world:

To know the whole story, start at the beginning:

I am not a doctor, a scientist or an investigative journalist.

I am a daughter, a mom, an artist and a storyteller.

I have a story to tell about turbo cancer.

I have a story about our failed medical system

I will tell it to anyone who will listen.

On June 12, 2022, after four Pfizer injections, my very healthy mom was suddenly diagnosed with stage-IV pancreatic cancer in her left inguinal groin lymph node, B-cell lymphoma, and melanoma. Her immune system had failed completely. The fast-growing tumors spread to her bones, breaking them from the inside. She lived, suffering, until December 13.

I was her full-time caregiver.

Beginning June 11, 2023, day by day, using memories, photos, text conversations, medical records, my journal, and my mom’s journal, I chronicled the story of her disease on Facebook. I told about the progression of her illness, the failed medical response, her unimaginable pain, her experience, my experience, and how her spirit refused to be broken.

My mom represents millions of people who were deceived, intimidated or forced into receiving an injection. Her story is all of our story.

On This Day, Last Year - Six Months of Turbo Cancer