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“God Made Me Do It,” She Says

SPANISH EYES by Debra Wimer

(From the Ginger Aldett Fan Club Newsletter; abridged by Adam Parfrey)

The first thing I remember is crying over how tragically short Elvis Presley’s life was, how he was taken so suddenly from all his loved ones -particularly the girl he loved and was to have married Christmas Day 1977.

“Oh Lord, why couldn’t you have at least let him remarry and father another child?”

To my astonishment I heard a soft and kind, yet authoritative voice reply, “Please don’t cry. I know how the world was mourned since I took him August 16, 1977. How would you like to have him back?”

“That would be wonderful, but how could you do it?”

“You doubt the Almighty?”

“But he’s been gone over 13 years!” “I am fully aware of that. Remember, 1 made Adam out of the dust of the ground. I can fashion another body for Elvis which will look exactly like the original...with a few improvements, of course.” “Do you really mean it? We’d do anything to have him back!”

“On one condition."

“Name it.”

“You must keep him entirely hidden from the public for a period of one year.”

“That’s a pretty tall order! How am I going to do it?”

“I will help you, don’t worry...but you must promise me that you will do this.”

“Oh yes. Lord, gladly. I have always felt partly responsible for his death. I know I could have helped him had I known him.”

“After this you will know him better than anyone except myself...that is why I have chosen you to take care of him during the year in hiding. He has been out of circulation and is out of shape. It will be your job to prevent him from working as he did before. That was part of what killed him. The strain was just too much for his heart to handle.”

“Thank you, Lord. I won’t let you down.” I sighed, then pointed out, “But you know how determined he is when he wants something. How can I alone convince him to take care of himself?” “I have planned for you to be his manager. You will gently suggest that it would be wise for all concerned if he took care of himself. You have a way with words; you’ll convince him.”

“Lord, I’m afraid I am not worthy of the trust you have placed in me.”

“I have deemed you worthy,” he replied kindly but firmly. “You have nothing to worry about. I will guide you every step of the way.”

“Where will we stay?”

“At his home in Palm Springs. It is currently unoccupied.... He must be treated with utmost courtesy and consideration at all times, or I will take him away again.”

“I understand. Lord, and I will go to the house now.” I went out to my car, finding to my surprise that all my belongings had been mysteriously and thoroughly packed.

As 1 drove God told me, “1 will return him to you halfway to Palm Springs. When you see a warm bright light beside you in your car, you will know I am sending him to you.”

I still didn’t understand why God had chosen me. Why not Ginger or a member of his family? I asked what would happen to the gravesite at Graceland. “Nothing, at least not for a year. It will look as it always has.”

“Why couldn’t we stay at Graceland? Elvis would be more at home there and we’d never leave.”

“I have very good reasons for wanting you to keep him in Palm Springs. It is isolated, and Graceland is constantly overrun by his fans since it was opened. You will need all the privacy you can get.” I hadn’t thought of that! "He is impatient to return.”

“You have him there with you?”

“Yes...or more accurately, his spiritual body. He says he can hardly wait to come back, since he left a lot of unfinished business behind when he died.”

I’ll say he did, I thought...

As I entered a deserted stretch of road, I felt a warm bright light, as warm as the sun, and was told to slow down to 55 mph. 1 thought it was strange that I should maintain that speed but complied — then something compelled me to look at the seat beside me.

I just wasn’t prepared for the sight that met my eyes. He was sitting there in the white suit he had been buried in, the one his father had given him the Christmas of 1976. He had an almost unearthly beauty about him. I wanted to reach out and touch him but was afraid he would disappear.

I also had an irresistible urge to see if he wore shoes, since people were usually buried barefoot. He indeed wore shoes! It was as if the Lord had said, “Say something to him. He’s real, he will respond to you.”

I finally said, “Welcome back.”

His speaking voice was more beautiful than it had ever been. “Thanks. It’s good to be back.” It was incredible that Elvis was really here, really speaking to me! But I wouldn’t believe he was real unless he touched me. At that moment he covered my hand with his. “Do you mind? I’ve missed the human contact of touch.”

“Not at all.” I strove to sound calm yet knew my heart was pounding. His hand felt warm, firm, masculine. “Has God discussed the details of what we’re supposed to do for the next year with you?”

“Thoroughly. I intend to cooperate a hundred percent....” Now that I knew he was real, I could really talk. “My family doesn’t know anything about this; no one does. I was told not to

tell anyone. I will obey, of course, but they were understandably hurt. I could only say I’d have to move to Palm Springs for a year. 1 can’t even contact them to let them know how I am. I’m supposed to isolate myself with you for a year.

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