Amazing Stories from My Friend Sparkie Miner from New Orleans

I have the great privilege of sharing with you a number of truly beautiful and miraculous stories that my friend and I call medicine woman Sparkie Miner has been sharing with me about real events in her life.  These are just a few of many that I’m hoping she makes a book out of, and definitely some videos because of her great personality.  I’m sure you will enjoy these.


Getting a 504 Number

By Sparkie Miner

On August 22 of 2013, I decided I had been in New Orleans long enough to have a 504 (New Orleans) number.  I went with a girlfriend to the T Mobile store and told the woman that I wanted a 504 area code number.  It was almost closing and she gave me a number.  I looked at it and said ” I’ll never remember that number, let me see the list of available numbers so I can find one I can remember.”  She looked at me like I had three heads.  I asked her to turn the computer screen around so I could see the number choices.  She did and I picked my number.  As we left my friend was telling me that she had no idea you could do that.  I just laughed, I’m sure that would take a lot of time if everyone knew you could do that.

Well about a week or so later, I had a voicemail on my phone from a number I didn’t recognize. The message said, ” Uncle Jim is dying, if you want to see him, you need to come home.”  I sat there staring at my phone, obviously this was important and the person that needed to hear it didn’t.  So, I called the number back. A woman answered, I told her that I had just gotten this number and she still needed to get ahold of whoever it was that needed to come home.  I also told her how sorry I was that Uncle Jim was dying.  She started crying and I tried to console her, we prayed together, she calmed down and I hung up.

The next night, I had just put my supper on the table when my phone rang. I answered it and heard a woman crying uncontrollably.  When I finally got her calmed down enough to talk, she told me she was the same woman I had called last night.  I had recognized her voice, I assumed Uncle Jim had passed. She told me that she had no one else she could call and hoped it was ok. I said it was just fine, what’s wrong ?  Then she said ” you sound white.”  “Yes I am, why? Does that make a difference?”  “I’m black”. “Good, congratulations, now what’s wrong?”  “My brother jumped off a six story building this morning!   The hospital will not tell me anything about his condition, except he’s in ICU and critical.”

Since she had a 504 area code I assumed she was in New Orleans, I asked her to tell me where she was and I’d come and get her and we would go to the hospital together.  She then told me she was in South Carolina and her sister KiKi ( whose number I had) was in Texas.  “Oh, well I’m in New Orleans, so I guess I can’t come n get you”.

“My brother is in New Orleans.”

“Ok what hospital, I will go there and find out what his condition is.”

“He’s at University but you can’t go there it’s 8:30 at night.”

“What’s his name?”

“Marvin Johnson you shouldn’t go there this late at night.”

“What’s your name?”


“Ok Rose, I will call you when I leave the hospital,  where is it located? ”

“Off Poydras, please park under a street light, I don’t want you hurt.”

“I’ll be just fine”.

I put some shoes on and headed out the door.  I started praying that I could find out some useful information for her.  I got to the hospital, and went inside, walked upto the desk and asked for Marvin Johnson’s room.  The black woman looked me up and down, and told me they had two Marvin Johnson’s and asked which one I wanted. I looked at her in disbelief, and said

“Well, I bet you don’t have two that jumped off a six story building!”

“Give me his birthday”

“Geeze Almighty GD really ?, let me call his sister, I have no idea”.

I called Rose and told her I needed his birthdate, because they don’t  believe I am a friend of the family.  Before she could answer the woman said

“He’s on the second floor, in ICU, he’s not expected to make it through the night, go on up”.

I walked to the elevator and went to the second floor.  Immediately stepping off the elevator was a sign, about 3 foot by 4 foot, CHECK IN WITH THE POLICE OFFICER BEFORE GOING ON THE FLOOR.  Great, so I went looking for the police officer and found two of them, sitting together.  I told them I wanted to see Marvin Johnson. They looked me up and down. I was beginning to wonder if I was properly dressed. The black officer said ” umm, humm, well his family is right over there in that waiting room, why don’t you just go talk to them.”  I thanked him, and walked to the waiting room, praying GD would prepare their ears for me and give me the words to say to them.  When I opened the door, directly in font of me and off to the left, was a group of people that quite honestly, if they had had guns, I’d been dead!  To the right was another group of people, I was praying these were Marvin’s people, cause they were not as hostile looking.  I walked over and asked if they were Marvin’s family.  One woman got up came over and said

“yes, why? Who are you?”

” I am a friend of Rose and she has been trying to call you all, can’t get anyone, and the hospital will tell her nothing.  She’s worried sick, so I told her I would come and see what I could find out “.

“You been talking to her?”


“You talked to her here at the hospital?”

“no, she’s in South Carolina, I talked to her on the phone.”

“Can you call her now,and let me use your phone?”


So I called Rose and handed my phone to her aunt. I sat down across from some more of his family and they started questioning me.

“Are you a pastor.”

“Uhh, no.”

“But you preach right?”

“No, I am Jewish, I don’t preach”.

“Sweet Jesus, GD sent us a Jew to pray with us, damn.”

“I guess that’s right.”

I started to explain about the phone number and how the message was left on my phone, not Kiki’s phone.

“Oh, you know Kiki?”

They were trying to make sence of why a white woman was at University hospital in the middle of the night too.

“No, I just have her old number.”

“Well you have come all this way, would you like to go see him”.

Honestly I didn’t really want to see him but I heard in my head,  “that’s why you came”.  “True, I mentally replied”.

“Yes, I would like to see him. “.

“Can’t believe you came here, this will be the last time you see him, cause he’s dying tonight, they killed him.”

“Who killed him?  I thought he jumped off six stories, right?”

“naw, they throwed him off the building”.

“Who threw him off, what building?”

“There he is”.

I looked up and in the bed in front of me lay a young man with every kind of tube coming out of him one could possibly imagine!  He was hooked up to several machines I didn’t recognize.  His right hand was closest to me and his fingers were curved around, not tight but, like they were waiting for something to be put in them.  I put two of my fingers in his right hand and closed my eyes.  I started sending white light through his body, concentrating on the parts of his body that I thought might be damaged.

I felt a smack on my left shoulder.  I opened my eyes and turned to see a little blonde haired, blue eyed nurse standing there.  Yes, I asked.

“Don’t wake him up, we had to give him pain medication about an hour ago, he’s not going to make it.”

“Wait a minute, he’s been in here all day long and you just gave him pain medication an hour ago?”

“Yes, we weren’t sure he was in pain.”

“Are you kidding me?  Honey, I teach art and I have enough sence to know if you fall off a six story building you are going to be in pain.  I bet if your happy ass fell off a six story building, you would have gotten pain medication a long time ago.”

“Who are you?”

“A friend of the family.  Who are you “.

“I am Mr. Johnson’s nurse. ”

“Umm humm don’t you have to take an oath about helping people.”

“Take a good look at him, cause he’s not going to make it through the night.”

“You take a good look at him, because he’s going to live a long time. Now go away and let me finish”


She turned and walked away.  The woman who came in with me was snickering.  She looked at me held my arm and thanked me for whatever I could do for Marvin. I told her GD wasn’t finished with him yet and he was going to be fine.  I finished sending white light and we went back to the waiting room.  I collected my phone and headed out.  The officers nodded as I left.

When I got into my car I called Rose.  She thanked me and I told her he was going to be just fine. She didn’t believe it but she wanted to.  Now that her family had her number they would be keeping her informed of his progress.  I asked her to keep me informed as well.  We said good night and I drove home.

The next day, Marvin’s breathing tube was taken out.  The next day he was awake enough to write notes.  Then, in a few days he started talking and getting better.  Rose asked if I could help her get to New Orleans.  I asked how she was getting home. She said she had enough money for the ticket home. So I asked my Rabbi Lowey and without hesitation, my synagogue helped Rose come to New Orleans to see her brother.  I was excited to see her face to face.  What an adventure it had become!

Rose called me about a week or so later and filled me in on the details.  Marvin had worked for the sheriffs department and had seen a woman murdered.  He was the eye witness, and had been in protective custody, when he was thrown off the building.  He was afraid they would kill him the next time. I told her to call St Tammany’s Sherrif’s  Office and explain what happened and get him transferred there until the trial.  She did and St Tammany’s Sherrif’s Office came and got him. They ended up sending him to South Carolina to stay with Rose.

Marvin was sure they would kill him and Rose. I told her to make a video of his testimony, send it to the court, keep a copy and send one to me.  Then it was in evidence, and it was a moot issue whether he testified or not.  There was then no reason for them to kill him. For awhile they were both in protective custody but, somehow Rose always found ways to let me know they were safe.  The officers who murdered the woman are now serving time and Marvin and Rose are doing well.  I hear from them from time to time.

I share this story to tell you to trust your feelings, because the smallest thing could turn out to be something very large and important in the grand scheme of things.  As Jon says we just need to show up, the universe will do the rest.


My Russian Friend

by Sparkie Miner

I had been introduced to the Slavic Gospel Association in the 70’s, it was a group of people that decided to help the persecuted worshipers of Russia, the former USSR, through prayer.  I’m not sure how I found out about them now.  I received cards from them with peoples names and pictures on them, much like baseball cards.  The cards also had their photos, what they were caught doing and what prison they were being held in or if they were just missing.  It had their birth dates and arrest or missing dates.  These people, men and women alike, were being persecuted in Russia for their religious beliefs!  I prayed daily for these people. I had been doing this for about 2 years, when Russia became very real to me.

I was substitute teaching in sixth grade for a small, mostly black elementary school.  We were coming back from lunch, when I heard one of the boys start fussing with another student.  Screaming and calling names.  I walked back to where they were.

“Ok, what’s the problem?”

“He’s a Comie,”‘replied the black student, pointing to a very unhappy white boy.  I looked at the boy, his clothes were ill fitting, he had black hair and striking blue eyes.  His eyes had seen a lot for his years.  I called him to me, put my arm around him and sent the class into the room with work to do, leaving the door open.

“So, is it true, are you from Russia?”

He said nothing, looking like he wanted to die.

“You know, it’s ok that you are from Russia.  I pray for people from Russia every day.”

“How you know Russians, you go there?”

“No, but I can show you the people I pray for.  Now, I’ll talk to the class and help them understand that you are not their enemy.  Ok?”

He started to cry and buried his face into me.

“It going to be just fine, I promise.” I said patting his head.  It took a lot for him to break down.  He looked up an we went into the classroom.  It was filled with black students that had seen a lot as well.  We talked about being persecuted.  What it was. Why it was wrong.  How we could stop it, one person at a time.

“Did you know, calling Vladimir a “Comie”, is a very easy way to persecute him?”

“Making him feel different, just because he was born in Russia, is wrong.”

“Can we choose where we are born?”

“Who our parents are?”

“What our names are?”


“We should hold out our hands in friendship to people who come to America for a better life.”

“They could have picked any other country in the world to come to, and they chose ours.  Why? Because we love to help people who want to do better, live better, and become part of our family.”

“Now, you all make Vladimir feel welcome. He can tell you all about a place you may never get to visit. It’s a beautiful country, with beautiful people, who can’t worship the way the want to.”

“How would you feel if, when you were in church on Sunday, police came in and took your preacher away?  Then they made everybody leave and locked the door so you couldn’t get back in?  That’s what is happening in Russia.  Vladimir and his family came here so they could worship the way they wanted.  Make him feel wanted.”

At the end of my speech, Vladimir was looking at me like I had three heads, wondering how I knew all that information about him.  The students got out of their seats and gathered around to welcome him into their class.

At the end of the day I asked Vladimir if I could take him home.  When we got to his house, his mother came outside, worried he was in trouble again.  It seems he had been in several fights since they arrived two weeks before.  I shared what happened and reassured her that I was pretty sure the fighting would stop.  Then I told her about the Slavic Gospel Association.  I asked if I could bring the cards over to see if she knew any of the people I had been praying for.

“Russia is a huge country.”, she said.

“I know, it’s much larger than America, and if the situation was reversed, the chances of me knowing anyone in the US would be slim to none, but would you look anyway?”

She laughed and agreed.  I went back to the car and got the cards out of my bag.  She invited me in the house and gave me a glass of tea. The kitchen table was white, it reminded me of my Grandmother.  There was a warm, loving feel to the kitchen.

As I handed her the stack of cards, 25 in all. I said

“I know the chances are slim, and I appreciate your taking the time….” I stopped when I heard a gasp and sobbing.  Tears were streaming down her face.  She looked up.

“Where did you get these?!!”

“I asked the Slavic Gospel Association for names of people I could pray for who were being persecuted for their religious beliefs.  Why are you crying?”

She came over to me, hugged me and sobbed.  When she finally calmed down, she told me why she was crying.

Still holding the cards, she showed me one card after another saying,

“This is my father.  He escaped and is here with me.”

“This is my grandmother.  She died in that prison.”

“This is my preacher, Vladimir was the one he was illegally baptizing when they caught him and took him away. Vladimir was so young the police let him go”

“This is my uncle.  I don’t know about him.”

And on and on she went until she came to the last card.  Then she started wailing,

“This is my brother, I didn’t know he was captured!”

She was either related to or knew everyone I had been praying for, over the last two years!  Some she didn’t know about others she filled me in on.

Later, I contacted the Association to give them up dates on the people who had passed or escaped and, so they could be encouraged that their work had a profound effect.

I had been praying for people in Russia, and some of them came to my town in Kentucky!

I left her house and went to my pastors office.  I told him the story.  He wanted to meet her.  I took him back to her house.  It was in a very bad section of town and was too small for a family of five, but it was what they could afford.  The pastor helped them move to a larger house in a better part of town, and helped Vladimir’s parents to get better jobs.  We do love to help people stand on their own two feet.

I’m sure that when you are on your illuminated path, you are helping people.  Always, your seemingly insignificant actions are connected to a huge picture you can’t even see.  Know it’s there and everything you do effects the out come.  Make your choices wisely and listen to your Whisperers.


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