Next Stop Eden

I just listened to this whilst showering, and I have to say that it was probably the most important forty minutes of my life. For months I have known in my spirit, in my heart of hearts that Jesus is coming. It was as if I was floating around, thrilling at each and every blessing God sent my way. And then I began doubting myself. Mysteries were solved, questions were answered and to be perfectly honest? I began to doubt myself.

When you doubt yourself you are doubting God.

The Holy Spirit has led me on a journey that few experience, in my estimation. Not saying I’m special, just saying it wasn’t me leading the way, that’s for sure. Aside from the times I went against my intuition? I have been led to the truth for three years. I am incredibly grateful for the time He spent grooming me; and every time I took a pill, or had a temper tantrum the pull of Jesus put me back on track.

Three years ago I hiked the property by the lake at Middlecreek Wildlife Sactuary in Lancaster, Pennsylvania. You may have heard of the area as the migration of snow geese can be seen in the form of hundreds of thousands of birds who nest for two weeks every February/March. Brings people from Japan, Canada and all over the world, actually.

As I came to a well known fishing hole, I noticed a pair of boys underwear by a maple tree. Something Wicked This Way Comes, the Holy Spirit roared within me.

At the time, I could have chalked it up to a small child swimming and leaving his skivvies behind. No. I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that there was evil in the air. Putrid, sickening and so very dark. Two weeks later I found yet another pair on the same bank. This time I bagged the evidence, using a stick as to not put my fingerprints on the evidence. Once home I donned gloves and opened the bag.

“Lebanon Police,” a thick voice on the other end.

I went on to explain myself.

Are there any markings?”

Yes, I said. The material is blue, and I see what appears to be semen stains.

Sorry, doesn’t sound like anything. Just throw the bag away.

And that my friends, was the beginning of the end of me.

The QSpiracy Theory

After the Field McConnell debacle, dare I even write about truth?  Ah, the truth, in my opinion is that he and his wife take the money and prayers of the vulnerable, the broken.  They tug on their hearts and sense of patriotism, and faith in a way that defies humanity.

These people are evil.

My rage lies in the betrayal at a time the nation is trying to awaken the masses with the truth.  I have come across the best thing known to a wanna be detective, the Kevin Mardsen  channel on YouTube.  He has been working on revealing the true nature and motives of David Hawkins and Field McConnel.  His search led him to abeldanger.net which then led to the realization that Abel Danger has a porn hub.  Nothing to see here folks.  Meanwhile, the fat F*** from Alaska, Daniel Lee, needs a wife by the end of November.  He has abused and terrorized his last five wives, but hey, Yah told him he would have a wife by November 23rd.  Yah also told him that the “rapture” (found not once in the bible, KJV) would be in September of 2017.  So, there’s that.

So, if we put the heinous past behind us and look to life with the eyes of a child, with the help that only the Holy Spirit can give?  If we truly ask for discernment, won’t He guide us in our ways?  That statement led me down a rabbit hole of nausea and rage, as I woke up to the fact that Abel Danger was a bad operation, and when Lestat took over Field’s YouTube channel?  I knew in my gut that the “news” sites I was subscribed to were all involved in a plot to scam Americans while giving nothing to the movement to save our children.  None of these people, including Timothy Holmseth, are what they say they are.  Many are pedophiles themselves, and if that doesn’t sicken you?  I don’t know what to say.16730301_2154735361332389_8260966481023903396_n

I have been speaking to and about this subject for over a year, and I won’t stop until I feel fit to-and believe me, I have no choice.

I am here to tell you that we are going to be okay.

But first we have to look to God and face the past so at no time in history will the enemy be so powerful again.  We cannot allow this to happen again.  QAnon is not a conspiracy.  It is the plan to save the world-not just America.  To ensure our freedoms and God given rights, to bring peace and love and rejuvination.  We are here to help you, please let us.

Guard Your Heart

Nothing better than Lucinda when you’re feeling…why, I don’t know what I am feeling, exactly.  A bittersweet mix of gratitude, prayer and high anxiety, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

It is becoming obvious to me that some of us woke folks are starting to show signs of battle fatigue.  Some are losing their cool, and others (we are all in different stages of discovering the truth) are losing their religion, literally.  When you realize that the Pope is a satanic pedovore, that there is a dungeon in the Vatican, where they sacrifice children to satan-or that Hillary Rodham Clinton is actually in the exact same league?  Not only are you mustering up each and every crumb of courage in your body, but you are being traumatized-over and over again.

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Until I met my friend Kat, I didn’t realize just how far removed I have been from society.   Oh, I have a handful of extremely close friends-but I can count on one finger how many of them know the truth.  And she pretends she doesn’t when her man is around, so, yes, I would say I am very much alone, but didn’t fancy myself lonely until today, on the phone with Katherine.

“I saw the picture of the child that Hillary raped and murdered, Sara.  A woman on Twitter sent it to me, and I can’t sleep.  I can’t believe I saw that picture…”

We spoke for over an hour, taking great solace in the company of another soul who sees reality for what it is, and not what they want you to think it is.  Another human who has broken through the programming we have all had aimed at us since birth.  That’s right:  they have brainwashed us via music, movies and news-nothing, and I mean nothing is as it appears to be.

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What hurts us both the most?  The cold shoulders, family interventions, wide eyed stares into the abyss-each and every time we open our mouths.  She fought with her husband last night, and her family made her promise not to talk about John F. Kennedy, Jr. again.  You see, she had told her entire brood that he was going to be at the 4th of July festivities, not unlike my experience last Thanksgiving, when I announced to Dwain’s entire family that John would be in the Macy’s Day Parade.

“I’ll never make that mistake again,” I told her.  

Just moments later I realized that I had told you, my 400 followers! that John John would come out in Washington, D.C.-on the fourth of July.

“Shit.”

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Here’s the deal:  we wouldn’t risk everything in our lives, be it our family’s trust or the job we love, for some whack job’s conspiracy theory.

We know shit.

Things I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy, but there is little we can do to spare you the pain we know so well.  God will do that.

And as much as it irritates the shit out of me?

We’ll be here when you need us.

Down to the Jordan Stream

One of the very best tunes I have heard in some time-this music soothes my soul.  I love old things: antiques, vintage clothing, the elderly, and I am reminded of simpler ways, kinder times.

Oh, hold on a second!  My husband is lecturing me about my absolute drive to come to the truth about our world, our society, our government.  

“I don’t know why you do it to yourself.”

“By the way, Tom Hanks is a pedophile,” I retaliate.

“Tom Hanks is a pedophile?” (giggle, guffaw, belch)

I say this with a lightness in my heart that hasn’t been seen since the day I married my man.  I know we are winning the war, the insidious little somethings that gradually grow and eventually manifest into full out plagues.  Sex trafficking.  ANTIFA.  Pedophilia.  Corruption.  Hellyweird…it’s getting to the point that people are waking up, and it encourages me.

Waking up was a process for me that, had I known what lay ahead?  I would have run for the hills.

Ah, Lord, I know I’ve been changed; I said Ah Lord I know I’ve been changed.  The angels in Heaven done signed my name-lyrics I relate to, believe me.  Here’s a little secret that I have been holding on to, wondering in what manner to bring it up in my writing-the closer you come to Jesus, the more you love Him?  Well, the more transformed you become.  I knew something was drastically different when I found myself loving my irritating, self righteous neighbor.  I am convinced she sells information about us all around this block, if you can call two square miles of countryside a “block.”

Yes, out of the blue, right after I became sober, the Grinch’s heart began to soften.  It came as a huge surprise because when I got sober-I got good and pissed.  At everything, really-I was a whirling dervish of RAGE and despondence.  Grief had crept up from the grave, and I went back and forth between crippling sadness over everyone I have lost thus far-especially my father-and the urge to beat the living crap out of anyone who even looked my way.  It’s like someone took you blanky, for crying out loud.  EVERTHING bothers you, my husband’s chewing was so irritating to me that I came close to sending him packing.  You cannot, and I REPEAT, you can NOT grieve, well, anything or anyone if you are using.  And when us addicts have to face pain, what do we do?  We medicate as quickly as possible.  Here’s something many don’t understand: alcoholics and addicts are extremely compassionate, empathetic and sensitive.  I know this for a fact.  I also know that I had, out of self preservation, put up an unsightly wall-against others, including myself.

When I was baptized by water last Easter, I wasn’t expecting any change, as I had been baptized as a child.  When I was saved, my life began anew-so I recommitted myself on a Sunday, in ice cold water-in front of a full church.  I was utterly and completely alone-no husband, family nor friends attended.  The air conditioning was on high, and I embarrassed myself by running from the altar, after having my clothing thrown at me by our Worship minister.  Not a pretty site.  Did I mention I had a sinus infection at the time?

Ah, I have totally veered off of my original point.  You will absolutely believe, deep in your soul, that Jesus is in and with you-when your heart begins to soften.  You stop thinking that you are any better/worse than the next guy.  I repeat that often, I am no better nor worse than my brothers and sisters.  You begin to put others first, and might even find yourself wanting to help others every chance you get-and it feels good and right and perfect.  The rage diminishes.  The cravings vanish.  Jesus sought after you, and you allowed Him into your very being.

So, if you think you’re turning soft, or that the hormones are raging-just call out to Jesus-then you will know beyond a shadow of a doubt that He will answer~

The Still, Small Voice

If I could give you one word to the wise when it comes to getting sober, it would be this-

Every day you don’t take a drink or pick up is a miracle.

And where do miracles come from?  God, of course.  Jesus.  Just writing His name soothes my soul.  I’m not preaching, I am stating fact.  If there is anything you need to be a success, it is your relationship with your Lord and Savior.  You may balk, thinking what does she know?

I know everything about the disease of addiction, and I acquired the knowledge during a 12 year journey of recovery.  When first sober, after a stint that resulted in me in hospital, with a cop at my door.  I thought there was no hope, not a sliver of a chance that I could climb out of the pit of despair I had found myself laying in-the bottom, for me.  I had attempted to slit my wrists, and I did a crappy job of it-but I also threatened my husband with a knife over a bottle of wine.  I don’t remember doing this, but I sobered up just as he was telling the social worker, and I cried out-

“Why, why are you lying???”

Thing is?  He wasn’t.

I spent the night, escorted to the potty by a cop, and whatever they gave me knocked me out cold for twenty four hours.  I awoke to the sound of my husband pulling out of the driveway, on his way to work.

I called my boss, sat down and cried.

I was absolutely frightened out of my skull.  I searched the cupboards and found a big jug of wine.  I stood there, on the kitchen chair, and stared at this bottle of poison.  To this day, I believe that I would have taken a drink if it hadn’t been for one thing:  Jesus was carrying me.

I put down the jug.  Too tired to fight with myself, I ascended the stairs and crawled back into bed.  I slept a lot in the very beginning.  Sleep was my only safe space, and my body was working overtime at ridding itself of the toxins accumulated over my drinking career.  I lost fifty pounds, without trying.  I later found out that I should have entered a rehab facility, as I had gone cold turkey.  The withdrawal from alcohol had put my father in a coma some thirty years before.  The irony has never escaped me.

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There were horrible mood swings and a backlog of grief.  I absolutely hated the people that could have a drink and enjoy a night out.  For years I felt as if I was truly missing out.  Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t miss anything else-the hangovers, the guilt, the drink and dial-but I wanted, more than anything else in the world at that time, to be a normal person.

And that was it, wasn’t it?  The incredible self involvement us addicts are guilty of while using.

Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me.

The biggest slap in the face was realizing that not only did I put alcohol before my husband and family, but I put it before Abba.  Somewhere along the line, I forgot the nature of my sins.  I never stopped praying, but I was incredibly selfish and I regret that now.

So, my advice is this-

Take one minute at a time, and take each moment with God, not alone.

Without Him we are powerless.

With Him we are fearless.

There is hope, love, a future.  You are not a horrible person, and as it turns out?  Most alcoholics and drug addicts are incredibly compassionate and sensitive.  We don’t understand the lack of love in the world, it hits us harder than the average bear.  I was 56 years old before I realized that there was evil in this world.  I had no sense of boundaries, as often happens with children of alcoholics.  I truly thought that we were put on this earth to help and care for one another-it was a slap in the face to learn otherwise.

Two years ago I made a covenant between God and myself.  I promised Him I would never take a drink again.  I never promised anything to anyone, because I always fell short, always screwed things up.  So you can imagine I was pretty serious when I made this pact.

The miracle happened when I lost all desire to ever take a drink or drug again.

There is no shame in addiction.  None whatsoever.  It means that you leaned on a crutch like anyone and everyone else.  Food, gambling, smoking, drinking-gluttony is gluttony, anyway you look at it.  But it doesn’t matter in the end.  What matters is discovering what your personal kryptonite is-and then addressing the murderous pain it has caused you.  When you successfully process your grief, you won’t need a drink or a drug.

Stay strong.  Be a badass.  He has you~

 

 

I Must be Hercules…

What is up with the folks who say God doesn’t give you more than you can handle?  I mean, even Moses couldn’t handle His mission without losing it, and as a matter of fact?  David deemed himself unworthy for his tasks as well.  Who handles a cancer diagnoses, the death of a child, or even the loss of a career?

Hey, you have the wrong person!!!

We cry out to God, then have the unmitigated gall to suppose that He doesn’t know what He’s doing.  That being said, the world is full of beautiful and very horrible things: the only way, truth and life is literally the only way.

I will be writing about my testimony in an upcoming blog, but for now I want to talk about what we do when our world, as we knew it, comes crushing to a bitter end.  How do we pick up the pieces?  How do we not put a bullet through our skulls, or have the faith that our persecution has a distinct beginning and end?

God will not ask you to suffer indefinitely.  

We need to know that there is always a purpose for trials, persecution.  When I think of how my life has been completely transformed (no, not saying I’m a saint) after a lifetime of abuse, despair and hopelessness?   My gratitude for the peace He has given me knows no bounds.  I mean, I went my entire life without a diagnoses of autism, which looking back?  I still catch my breath when I realize that not one single adult, teacher, doctor or family member caught this?  I grieve for the child and young adult who struggled so badly she turned to drug and drink.   Like my brother says, mom and dad were in the midst of their own struggles, their personal demons.  But how, you ask, how in tarnation can a child grow to become a woman and then some without the skills necessary for a healthy and productive life?

The answer will always be Jesus, no matter the question.

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As we drove to church this morning, I thought of my first day of kindergarten.  My golden retriever, Chipper, was so distraught that after she and mom dropped me off?  She ran back to the school and jumped through the screen window-  this happened twice, and after that she was no longer allowed to accompany us.

To my surprise, a tear dropped down my cheek to my chin, from my chin to my poncho.  I believe that Chipper knew full well that her human had some disabilities.  I also believe God sent her for that very reason, to love and nourish and protect.  She was the love of my life, and it is no surprise that her little brother lay at my feet, Jesse Bocephus Happy Hoffmananoff.  His love and devotion to me is not unlike his predecessors, but Jesse is special in a way that defies explanation; and he has been loyal and true and beloved, during the hardest six years of my life.

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I slowly succumb to the nurturing only Jesus can orchestrate, my sweetest boy at my side.

I marvel at what my beloved Jesus has brought me through-yet I know that this newest storm will not be the last.  As followers of Christ we will know the pain and isolation Jesus knew at the foot of the cross.

There is a beginning and an end, the pain does not endureth forever.   If we pick up our cross with the foreknowledge that we have the Holy Spirit in the stead of Jesus, and what the power behind that truly is?

We can do all things through Christ, who strengthens us.

After church I did some researching and finally reached out to a complete stranger on Twitter-I know I was led to him, because he gave me answers to questions that have plagued me for the last few years.

John F. Kennedy, Jr. is dead.

Dwain find me in the kitchen, regrieving Junior’s death, and beating myself up for my lack of discernment when Jesus whispers-you had hope, there is nothing wrong with hope.

The stranger tells me I should take a break, leave the truther community for a bit.  I am pondering this when my husband runs into the house.

You are NOT going to believe this!!!!

It is 42 degrees here in Pennsylvania.  My husband had given me a set of dragonfly and lights, of the solar variety.  I keep it outside during the day to charge, then bring it inside for the light show at night-red, blue, violet, yellow, red, blue…so surreal.

“Look honey,” my husband says.  “I was getting your light out of the garden and look what flew out of the ground!”

With that said he released the most beautiful red dragonfly.

This is how it has been for years-His presence made visible through the eyes of a child.

Adrift

In your darkest hours, in your finest grief-this is where Jesus does His absolute bestest ever work.  Of course, when you are adrift in a sea of confusion, rage and betrayal?  You don’t want to think about how strong or wise or ethereal His love-you are way too busy crying, railing or even vicariously throwing inanimate objects at the wall.  Your heart hurts so bad you swear it will break, the tears so salty dehydration sets in.

The lights are out.  There is nothing of comfort, you can’t see your way through the pain.  But here’s the rub:  the only way around the feels is through the feels.  In other words, to quote Richard Gannon, “you gots to feel the feels.”

As I hike the Spicebush trail, I wonder at the miracle that God still loves me, despite my Irish sighing and in spite of my ineptitude. I am an Israelite, awash in the desert of my own making-complaining about this or that.  I catch myself, and ask forgiveness of Him.  I have always had exactly what I needed at every turn of the page.  In recent times, God has blessed us beyond measure-my husband’s new job, my Social Security disability granted, and, more importantly?  We are in love and, for the most part, healthy.

I always turn to Jesus, eventually.  I have struggled with depression and anxiety my entire life.  I wish I had learned to practice this habit much earlier in life.  Perhaps it may have spared me the alcoholism, drug addiction and suicidal ideation.

I wanted to end my life because I thought myself a loser.  A miscreant.  A nobody.

I couldn’t keep a friend, let alone a job.  I knew I was different, that I didn’t fit in, and that for the most part I wouldn’t be missed.  The emotional abuse endured at the hands of the people I loved and trusted the most would prove to be a deal breaker.

I broke, into a millions little pieces not unlike the mess you leave when you break a Christmas ornament.

Shattered.

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I lost my friendships, my family, my identity in Christ.

I thought I was coming out of the woods, and I convinced myself that nothing bad would ever happen to me again because I was a child of God and I figured He’s seen me through the worst of it.

I was dreadfully wrong,

With the help of a mighty God I made it through each and every hairpin turn, but just as I was getting my bearings-another tragedy, another slip into isolation and chaos.  I noticed this, yes, but I also paid mind to the fact that with each and every arrow flung in my direction (the persecution comes from Satan, but God has the control) the more courageous I became.

One evening I called out His name, I couldn’t take another self sabotaging thought-my depression had resurfaced.

Please, Psalm 91…the arrows that fly by night…all that sort of thing.  HELP ME JESUS!!!!

And just as if I were taking out the trash, my body arched-my head flew back.  I had momentarily thought of that lion, the one who roars at the enemy-

I.  Am.  The.  Storm!!!

I.   Am.   The.   Storm.

I roared quietly, then not so quietly.

Together, Jesus and I are building my life back up-brick by brick.  He sustains me by the Living Waters and wipes the tears from my furrowed brows.

And then…I rally my senses, join forces with my soul and pick of my cross.

For I am His and for that?  Oh for that I am well pleased.