Sara Taft August 1, 2018

My name is Sara. It is 3:00 a.m. on September 29, 2000. Two nurses are wheeling me into an operating room at Cedars-Sinai Hospital in Los Angeles to wait for my liver transplant. A young man has been shot, and the team is waiting for him to become brain dead. I am unable to process this reality. Someone is dying to save my life!

As I look up at the ceiling of the room, a feeling of calm comes over me. I hear the words of Magdalene. They wrap around me like a blanket. “Sara, remember the words of my beloved Jesus, ‘You need not touch me for me to be with you.  Surrender yourself to my keeping.  I Am will be the hands of the surgeons; I Am will be the eyes and ears of the nurses.’ As Jesus walked with me into my land of exile, so he too (is walking) with you through this time of your death and rebirth. Let go and trust.”

I grew tired. The doctors entered the operating room. A hospital attendant hurried into the room with a box. The last words I heard were, “Remember I am here with you. There is nothing to fear.” Then I went blank.

When I awoke and the ventilator was removed, the attending nurses nodded their heads and smiled. I knew the presence of love was there. I felt full. The miracle has happened. I was alive. I felt my warm breath in my nostrils, and my voice sounded like music to my ears when all I could hear myself say was, “Thank you. Thank you for saving my life.”

The divine feminine energy taking the form of Magdalene was holding me now as she had in the shamanic tent—reweaving my new liver into my body. I imagined all the cells were reshuffling. They were knitting together as my body was accepting her new gift of life.


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Sara Taft

Sara Taft

Sara Taft discovered she had an auto-immune disease at age sixty-two. The illness eventually destroyed her liver and ultimately ch . . . read more

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