The Sacred Ward Where Souls Are Made Whole

The Sacred Ward Where Souls Are Made Whole

By Kateb Nuri-Alim Shunnar

They told me healing was possible, but I didn’t truly believe it until I reached the end of myself. I had grown so used to patching up my soul with makeshift bandages temporary distractions, buried grief, strained smiles that I mistook coping for recovery. But I was leaking internally, bleeding in places no one could see, slowly unraveling while pretending I was fine.

Until I couldn’t pretend anymore.

I collapsed not outwardly, but inwardly. The emotional and spiritual wounds I had kept hidden beneath my “I’m okay” bled out onto the floor of my soul. That’s when I, Mr. Shunnar, knew: I needed more than rest. I needed to check myself in. Not to a physical hospital but into the sacred Hospital of the Creator.

I whispered through weary breath, “I can’t heal alone. I’m not self-sufficient. I need help from above.”

As soon as I surrendered, the atmosphere shifted. The sacred doors of grace opened wide. And suddenly, I was being admitted not by human hands, but by angels in nurse uniforms. They moved with a gentleness that held power. Their eyes sparkled like eternity. Their presence hummed with divine peace.

The first nurse, Nurse Seraphina, rolled my gurney with steady hands. Her voice was soft but sure:

“We have a soul intake  Mr. Shunnar. Level 5 internal trauma. Chronic emotional exhaustion. Spiritual malnourishment. Heart heavily scarred. Let’s take him to Healing Bay 7. The Creator’s been expecting him.”

The corridors of the ward glowed not with fluorescent lights, but with warm, radiant halos that hovered like hope. As we passed, I noticed the walls weren’t adorned with art, but with testimonies. Framed miracles. Stories of restoration:

“I once lost all sense of purpose but He found me.”

“I arrived in pieces, but I left in peace.”

Inside Bay 7, Nurse Ariel, whose hair shimmered like starlight, checked my vitals. She didn’t use machines. She placed her hand over my heart and closed her eyes.

“He’s been running on adrenaline for years,” she said to the others. “The soul is dehydrated. His heart has been carrying burdens it was never meant to bear. But he made it in time.”

Tears welled up in my eyes. Her hand found mine.

“You’re safe now, Mr. Shunnar,” she whispered. “Let go. You’re not alone anymore.”

Another nurse entered Nurse Zadiel, tall with wings barely hidden beneath his coat. He adjusted my IV.

“Administering a slow drip of mercy and truth,” he said. “Start with affirmation: ‘You are loved. You are enough. You are held.’ Begin the soul infusion now.”

I felt it real healing beginning to stir within. The kind you don’t find in bottles or books. This was heaven’s kind of care.

Just then, an alarm rang out down the hall. Code White. Another soul in distress. A young woman sobbing out the pain of rejection. A man choking on grief. Angel-nurses rushed to help. I could hear Nurse Seraphina’s voice through the commotion:

“It’s okay. You’re not too broken. You came to the right place.”

A sage entered my room Elder Nurse Malakai, with silver hair woven like scripture and eyes deep like wells of understanding. He read aloud from my chart:

“Chronic people-pleasing. Self-rejection. Emotional shutdown. Lingering heartbreak. Muffled spiritual calling. Deferred dreams. Disconnected from Source.”

He looked me in the eyes.

“You’ve survived a lot, Mr. Shunnar. But now… now it’s time to heal.”

Moments later, a shamanic nurse arrived Nurse Elyon, with a healing drum strapped to his back and a rhythm in his breath. He placed ethereal sensors around my soul.

“Running out of rhythm with the Creator,” he noted. “Syncing with fear instead of faith. But the spirit still remembers its original pulse. Let’s reset.”

Then everything stilled.

He entered.

The room hushed like creation itself bowed. No name tag. No stethoscope. Just light. Just calm. Just undeniable Presence.

The Chief Physician. The Creator. The Healer of Healers.

He walked in not with arrogance, but with the humility of One who had already paid the cost of my care. He sat by my bed and took my hand no gloves. Just divine skin on wounded skin.

“Welcome, Mr. Shunnar,” He said. “You’re safe. Thank you for letting go of pride. Thank you for checking yourself in.”

I choked on tears I didn’t even know were still buried in me.

“I’ve tried to heal alone for so long,” I confessed.

He nodded.

“And that’s why you stayed sick. Healing was never meant to be a solo surgery. It’s intimate work. Sacred work. You need hands that know where the real wounds lie.”

He stood and studied my chart.

“This will be a deep procedure. We’re not just cleansing the surface. We’re going to unearth the root infections: abandonment, betrayal, hopelessness, false identity. But I’ll be with you. Every second.”

I nodded through the pain. “Do whatever it takes. Just don’t leave me.”

He smiled.

“I never will.”

Soon, the angelic nurses prepped me for spiritual surgery. Nurse Seraphina and Nurse Zadiel wheeled me gently into the Holy Operating Theater. The room gleamed with divine light. The surgical instruments were not blades but words, prayers, and truth.

Nurse Ariel whispered into my ear as the anesthesia of surrender was released:

“Breathe out shame. Exhale regret. Inhale grace. You are not dying you’re being transformed.”

As the anesthetic took hold, I heard the Creator’s voice one last time before I slipped under:

“Sleep, Mr. Shunnar. When you awaken, you will be free.”

I don’t remember the time it took, but I remember the dream-state floating through memories being rewritten. Traumas being re-coded. Bitterness being extracted. Old lies cut out like tumors. The hands of heaven working on my inner world with a care I’d never known.

When I awoke, I was in the recovery room. Clean, quiet, sacred.

Nurse Ariel was there with warm eyes.

“You came through beautifully,” she said. “The surgery was successful. You’re healing now, for real this time.”

For the next few days, I remained under divine care. Nurses brought doses of affirmation and quiet. They bathed my soul in sound. They taught me to walk again not with legs, but with faith. Nurse Elyon taught me to breathe deeply through my spirit again.

And then the day came the day of my discharge.

Elder Nurse Malakai entered with a folder. He placed it gently in my lap.

“Mr. Shunnar,” he said, “You’re being discharged today. But remember, healing doesn’t end here. This is a lifelong journey.

We’ve prepared instructions for your continued care.”

He opened the folder and read:

Discharge Summary for Mr. Shunnar

• Diagnosis: Deep soul wounds, spiritual depletion, emotional trauma

• Procedures: Heart renewal, identity restoration, infusion of divine truth, detox of lies

• Outcome: Stabilized. Spirit revived. Faith reawakened.

Follow-Up Instructions:

• Take morning devotionals daily before stepping into the world.

• Apply affirmation ointment to your thoughts throughout the day.

• Rest frequently in prayerful meditation.

• Drink plenty of Living Water the words of the Creator and sacred silence.

• Avoid self-diagnosing. Return to the Creator immediately if symptoms recur.

• Surround yourself with light-bearers those who lift you, not drain you.

• Attend weekly worship appointments. Your praise is part of your therapy.

Warning Signs to Watch For:

• Resurfacing self-hate

• Disconnection from purpose

• Numbness to gratitude

• Unchecked loneliness

Emergency Contact:

The Creator   Available 24/7

Call through stillness, tears, worship, or a simple, whispered “help.”

Before I left, The Creator returned for one final check-in. He didn’t speak right away. He simply looked at me and smiled, His eyes holding galaxies of grace.

“You’ve done well, Mr. Shunnar,” He said. “Don’t forget: You are not just a patient. You are My beloved. My purpose for you lives on.”

Then He placed His hand on my chest. I could feel it my spirit, once weak, now pulsing strong.

“You’re healed. Not perfect but healed. And when you feel weak again… remember, My Hospital never closes. There is always a room ready for you.”

I walked out not just standing but soaring. I carried the scent of heaven on my clothes. Not everyone could see the bandages, but I could feel the healing beneath them.

Healing is real. But you have to surrender. You have to check yourself in. You have to trust the hands that know how to make you whole again.

And when you do?

You’ll discover the sacred ward where souls like ours are made whole.

By Kateb Nuri-Alim Shunnar

1. Nurse Seraphina

Meaning: Derived from "seraphim," the highest order of angels in many spiritual traditions.

Symbolism: Seraphina represents divine fire, purification, and passionate healing. She carries the warmth of the Creator’s presence and is often associated with intense spiritual healing and transformation.

2. Nurse Zahara

Meaning: Of Swahili and Arabic origin, meaning "flowering" or "radiance."

Symbolism: Zahara brings light, beauty, and emotional restoration. She represents the blossoming of the spirit after pain, like a garden growing after a storm.

3. Nurse Malaika

Meaning: Swahili for "angel."

Symbolism: Malaika is a direct messenger of the Creator’s comfort. She symbolizes protection, calm, and the emotional embrace that surrounds you when you feel weak and alone.

4. Nurse Nia

Meaning: Swahili for "purpose." Also one of the principles of Kwanzaa.

Symbolism: Nia helps you realign with your divine purpose. Her presence in the room is a reminder that healing is not just about mending wounds, but rediscovering why you’re still alive and worthy.

5. Nurse Amani

Meaning: Arabic and Swahili for "peace."

Symbolism: Amani brings serenity to the chaos of the soul. She calms the heart rate of your anxiety, slows the breath of your sadness, and prepares you mentally and emotionally for the Creator’s touch.

Each of these angel-nurses isn't just performing hospital procedures they are administering divine healing to every layer of the self: the spirit, mind, heart, and body. Their names echo the kind of medicine they offer: transformation, radiance, protection, purpose, and peace.