The tangible life in a life 

"When Kathryn Kuhlman passed away in 1976 - all of the power went out in an 800-bed hospital.

Her heartbeat should have read as irregular - and then moved to flatline. Her heart had been fine, (although her other organs were failing) but she never went to an irregular heartbeat. Kathryn was gone in the blink of an eye.

15 minutes after she passed away the brand new nurse (her first day on the job)- who was an unbeliever- went in to take her pulse.

Kathryn wasn’t cold.

Kathryn wasn’t warm.

Kathryn was hot.

The air in her room was thick with the fragrance of roses.

Not a few roses.

Millions of roses.

The head nurse in charge - came on the unit to write up the time of death. The time was 1:13 am on February 20th.

She chastised the new nurse for allowing roses on the ICU floor. Flowers aren’t allowed in the ICU.

The scent of roses didn’t fill one room, or one floor...but 4 floors of the hospital were overtaken by the scent of roses. The scent then permeated across the under pass that was connected to the hospital and then across the street and into the adjoining hospital.

There were no roses on the floor or in Kathryn’s room....but that’s where the fragrance originated from.

The new nurse said that she and the other nurse could barely stand in the room because the presence of Holy Spirit was so overwhelming.

The weight of glory.

When they checked the notes from the previous nurse - she had scribbled Kathryn Kuhlman’s final words and her last request...

"I shall die on February 20th at 1:13 am. Please have only roses at my funeral"[1]

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