Hey, Ho

I spent the first forty-four years of my life running from who I was, and more importantly, from what people assumed me to be.  I was the third mammary gland, the outcast, the one perceived to be different.  Women hated me, my family didn’t know what to do with me, and I had a drinking problem so severe?  That sealed the deal on my social status.  Period.

I didn’t realize how truly alone I was until a few years ago, when the bottom dropped and I was left with not a shred of respect for myself.  Codependency issues combined with nonexistent self esteem plagued the inner workings of my mind.  My heart lay in a trillion pieces and the only thing I knew how to do was fight, fight for my place in the world.  I had not one person on my side but my husband.  I gave Jesus the wheel and began the process of coming to life, a day late and a dollar short.  Bloom I did, and I have Him to thank for my awakening.  You see, what was at the center of my dim view of life was my dim view of me.  I just didn’t know any different.

In grade school I was bullied for being overweight.  In high school I was bullied for being anorexic.  Out and about in society, I was persecuted for being exactly who I was-something that can never, ever be taken from me.  That’s right-it isn’t about the likes on social media, the bravos from the secular world, or even what your mother in law calls you behind your back.

Ask yourselves this question:  who am I in Christ?  Better yet?  Ask Abba who you are in Jesus.  He will answer you, and in the darkest of nights He will shed His loving light on the mystery of just how powerful you are as a child of God.

You see, [THEY] don’t want you to know.  That’s right, the elite, the powers that be (God is pulling them out left and right, no, wouldn’t want to be Prince Andrew or Kanye right now) want you helpless, hopeless and unawares.

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How many of you have read Revelations?  One of the reasons I left my last church is because our “Spiritual Director” admitted to me that she couldn’t open that book.

“I am afraid to read it.  I’d rather get a good Rick Warren devotional.”

Feets, don’t fail me now, read my thought cloud.

Revelations is the only book in the bible that can describe to you who Jesus really is, what Heaven will be like, and yes, who you are and how you fit into the Kingdom as a follower of Christ.

And they sung a new song, saying, Thou art worthy to take the book, and to open the seals thereof: for thou wast slain, and hast redeemed us to God by thy blood out of every kindred, and tongue, and people, and nation; and hast made us unto our God kings and priests: and we shall reign on the earth.                                                                                                                    Revelations 5:9-10 KJV

What does that mean?

God’s message of salvation and eternal life is not limited to a specific culture, race or country.

Anyone who comes to God in repentance and faith is accepted by Him and will be part of His Kingdom.

God has made His people kings and priests, and nothing in this entire universe is more powerful than one who inhabits the Holy Spirit.

Repeat after me:  I am the Storm.

 

Chimes of Freedom

I had meant to publish this on the Fourth of July, but for some reason it lay dormant in my drafts file.  I am incredulous at how Jesus has kept me strong through the darkest days of my life-but I know, as I know my surname, that He never, ever left me.

I haven’t written as I’ve had no inkling to, and I try not to force myself to do more than I already force myself to do.  OCD, it’s a silent killer, man.

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We weren’t in the door after a trip to the beach, when I received a text from my dying friend, Scott.  Actually, it was from his wife, whom I correctly assumed despised the absolute crud out of me.  Pure, unadulterated hate.

STAY AWAY  STAY AWAY

My friend and I had said goodbye about a month ago.  He had told his wife that we had a special bond-which added to her ire, I am quite sure.  You see, Scott and I weren’t allowed to see each other for two years, because she thought we were having an affair. She would drive by my house frequently, and when I happened to run into him he acted as if he was being chased by the Nazis.  It made me sad, to see him so isolated.  You see, I knew back then that his wife was a narcissist-but not to the level I have learned, and the hard way.

When I dropped by that day four weeks ago, Scott warned me about coming around.  He was very frank about his wife’s disdain.  We rode on the golf cart, around his beautiful acreage, where he pointed out the area where he had thirty dozen tulips planted as a surprise for Sherry.  We wept, and spoke as one does in a situation like this.

My friend was alone and terminally ill.  He told me his wife had pushed his entire family out of their lives, the same with the kids and any friends he may have loved.  He was utterly alone.  The news that I could never come back to the house hit me hard.  I wept for three days.

As fate would have it, my husband insisted that I sit down and talk with Sherry alone.  I had no desire whatsoever, after the dozens of previous conversations that did nothing but give her supply, and make an ass out of me.

And so it was that we ended up stopping in, at Dwain’s insistence.

She’ll be fine, he said.

She won’t be there, I said.

Scott text me to come before three, when Sherry would be home.  We came before three, and if you could have seen the look on my face?  You would have thought I had seen the Boogey Man, right then and there.

And so I talked to the wall again, and she blamed it on Scott confusing his thoughts.  Then she asked if I would like to care for him three days a week, and I foolishly accepted.

Long story short?  The sorrow in my heart for him waxes profane.  I am helpless and so is he.  I pray he goes home quickly, he has suffered far too much in his life, married to an emotionally abusive ice cube who taunted and ridiculed him for thirty five years.

I can give it to God, which I have.  And one day, oh one glorious day?  She will have to answer to the Most High.

Damnit, I wish I could be a fly on that wall.

Below, the blog I wrote on July 4, 2019

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I don’t care how strong or stoic you are; when it comes to your heart, or the breaking of it; your grief will find its way. Losing my ability to run from my emotions today, I finally let go and cried on my golden retriever’s neck-is there any better place for waterworks? Your canine/feline’s neck? Sigh.

The fall weather makes my heart sing-I love the cool air, the life transforming sunsets, and the harvest of a hard Summer’s work. Everything, from hay rides to pumpkins-it’s all good, I treasure every day. Big blankets, cinnamon burning on the stove, my pup at my feet. A Holy Bible. A Dean Koons. A warm cup of cocoa next to the fireplace, even if it is just gas. Our wood stove in the kitchen, cranking out heat so strong I walk around buck naked some days: the hot flashes don’t bode well with my husband’s desire to warm his feet, which have no circulation due to frostbite obtained in a long ago hunting trip.

My day turned from glorious to harsh reality in ten seconds flat. While hiking at Speedwell Forge, a beautiful but far away place. We go there maybe every two weeks, and due to recent flooding-we hadn’t been in months. Halfway through the trek I took out my cell. A screen I had seen only once before appeared; some sci-fi looking alert. I couldn’t turn the stupid phone off, and I was set to take pictures of an ethereal waterfall. I knew I was being targeted, and I was wild.

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I took my phone apart and head out towards the jeep. I was furious. Speech is not free in America, and hasn’t been for some time now. If you have a voice that goes against the mainstream media, you will be silenced. Period. Not only will they shadow ban on social media, but they will fuck with your electronics until you’re at the point of pulling your hair out. Literally.

Do you have any idea of how long it takes me to write a blog? Hours. The screen will go blank just as I am getting going, suddenly I will lose my work-even after I have saved it. It sounds silly, but after two years of this crap, I am beyond angered, frustrated, homicidal. Okay, not homicidal, but seriously?

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I have taken on an assignment from Jesus. For two years I have been led, by the nose at times, on a quest for truth. THIS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH POLITICS (the deep state contains more than a few Republicans, Mike Pence being a satanic, POS pedophile himself-and yes, I have proof)and due to the successful mission of Project Mockingbird-the media is full of CIA operatives, who are trained to “brainwash” the lowly general public. I will write more on this subject, and include research affirming my statements.

The point of all of this is that while I have no choice in the matter; while I don’t go down the rabbit holes with any joy in my heart; the fact is, this is how God wants to use me, in the here and now. He has been preparing me for such a time as this. Losing friends and family has been hard on my psyche, and three are days when the loneliness and isolation leave me breathless and weeping.

No. I didn’t ask for any of this, but I sure as hell fire will do my very best, to be the hands and feet of my Lord and Savior, Jesus.

Calmed and Broken

Every once in awhile, I think Jesus likes to remind me of something:  I am not of this world, meaning I don’t fit in and have no intention of changing one thing about myself.  I have never fit in, but today the point was driven home in a cruel and devastating way.  It may be the enemy in attack mode, but I am a work in progress, and I am God’s work in progress.

I don’t want anyone to think I pity myself, as I find that a very undesirable character trait.  Spend enough time with the narcissist population and trust me, you’ll feel the same way.   However, I will say that I was pushed to my very limit this afternoon, resulting in a public display of rage and a headache at volume eleventy.  The following story may sound shocking to you, but I have learned to expect the ludicrous, as apparently that is my cross to bear in this dimension.

I came here from the Philadelphia area, to Lancaster County-by all appearances the quaintest of the quaint.  Loads of history, horse and buggies everywhere (I never tire of it) and a few of the finest restaurants around.  Beautiful countryside, small town charm, the whole shebang.

There is something disturbing about these people.  Not all, I have met some very lovely people and you know what?  They are almost always from somewhere else.  Living on the Main Line was different for me-I had many close friendships.  I didn’t realize how very accepting these fine people were, until I entered the Twilight Zone that is this one horse town.

I don’t keep up with the Joneses.  I keep to myself, unawares of what other folks are thinking.  I go to the grocery store without  makeup, usually with my stained hiking clothes.  Not a touch of makeup.  My long hair tied in a knot, lucky if my socks match to be frank.  This isn’t to say that I don’t clean up pretty, but when I do?  Vintage clothing, the more unique, the better.  My mother was a fashion plate, but when it came to me?  Let’s just say she liked to experiment.

I remember the first day of seventh grade, because mom made me wear velvet purple knickers, matching shirt and white lace up boots.  The kids were vicious, the taunting and pointing went on all day.  It didn’t bother me as I had become accustomed to children taunting me, as they did in elementary school-simply because I did not conform.  I was my own person, never a follower of anyone else.

I am helping out a close friend, he is dying of cancer.  For the second time in a week I was a hot mess in mucks.  I entered the house to a very angry man.  He told me he had just told his wife and son that he didn’t care what they thought, he wanted me to help him.  The narrative goes back and forth between everything’s groovy to his wife hates my guts.

“Now what?,” I asked.

The other day while in the grocery store, making conversation, I told the cashier I was helping out with Scott.  Apparently, she ran with this information (wow, scandalous I know) to Scott’s mother in law, who immediately phoned her daughter.

“She’s mad because her mother told her that you were in Dutch Way, bragging about how you’re taking care of me.  I just screamed at her and told her I didn’t care that she thought you were crazy, I wanted you around, period.”

“Can you please go back to the ‘crazy’ part?,” I stammered.

“You know, your hair isn’t perfect, everyone thinks you’re crazy.  Not many people in this town like you, who cares?”

I left the house enraged.  Truly enraged.  I drove to Dutch Way at eighty miles an hour, peeled into the parking lot, barely stopped the car before getting out.  I stormed in and asked for Cindy, the cashier, who had left earlier.  I then asked for the manager, and was directed toward the office.  My friend Lu Anne stood there, looking at me with anticipation.  I told her what happened.   I was shaking and livid.

“I want her job.  I want her job.  She is FUCKED!!!,” I screamed.

I felt their eyes burning holes through my backside.

I drove home, hugged my pooch, cried in the shower.

Children of God need to realize that they will be persecuted, rejected and even shunned because the “worldly” don’t understand us, they despise us because we frighten them.  They are broken people who’ve never truly known Christ in their heart.

I pity them.

 

 

 

Praise and Thanksgiving

There are moments in life when God rips you right out of your seat, shakes you, loves on you and plops you right back where you were-often in shock, because you never believed it could be so good, so poetic.  Today I had one of those moments.  My legs are still shaking, and I have to admit I wept-in awe of how much Abba loves us, and will go to great lengths to bring us true joy.

I believe that Jesus has a thing for the underdog, and if I have been anything in this bizarro world, it has been the underdog.  Was he a superhero or something?

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Underdogs don’t feel sorry for themselves. They just fight harder at living.

When I decided in my soul that Donald J. Trump was the miracle this country needed?  I knew I would be teased, but never in my wildest dreams did I anticipate the shunning, isolation or downright despair.  As a Deplorable, I lost family and friends-I had to delete my Facebook account, as I knew what was ultimately in store for the conservative population, thank you Mark Fuckenberg.  Thanks so very much.

I had three hundred friends on Facebook.  I kept in touch with friends from high school, acquaintances and family alike on this social media.  I had thousands of pictures, many of them sentimental.  I thought I would just go on and download my pictures.  I had a hard time with my decision, cutting so many people out of my life.  As it turned out, I could not keep my pictures, and that makes me really, really angry.

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I don’t think he’s human, and I came to that conclusion the day he was quotes as saying,

I used to be human.”

That and the milky white shade of clone he wears these days.

Anyway, getting to the point.  My sacrifices are muted by those of men and woman much braver than myself.  The president will end up sacrificing over three billion dollars, when all is said and done.  The patriots who are household words and faces?  They have been threatened, intimidated and in many cases-lost their jobs.  The veterans on the streets-they come before anything.  They fought unnecessary and gruesome wars for the satisfaction of the elites of this world.

My past life experiences have taught me not to trust, not to hope for a future or happiness.  I used to think I was undeserving, and after I was born again?  I knew that I didn’t fit in, nor was I a part of this world.  I stopped worrying about views or subscribers of my blog.  I let go, and I let God.

And so it was, while on the QResearch site, that I stumbled upon my own tweet.  I went back to the link, and clicked again.  Same tweet popped up.

It took me a good five minutes to realize that my president posted my response to the Pope on the 8 chan military boards.

I jumped up and down, screaming for my husband.  He just kept saying, ‘What does this mean for you?’  I took the dog in the house to be fed, and before I knew it?  My knees were shaking, I was deeply humbled and filled to the brim with gratitude.  I wept, and then I tweeted my president:

Sir, I am truly humbled.  I can’t thank you enough, you’re my hero.  Godspeed.

You see, if you keep the faith and turn to Jesus-give him the power and control over your life?  If you trudge along, one day at a time and try to heed the voice of the Holy Spirit (Jesus dwelling within you) the rewards will be great.

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

I will never, ever forget this day.  It is the honor of a lifetime.

Are You a Targeted Individual?

 

I don’t even know where to begin, so many thoughts and emotions, so little understanding until I heard this man speak earlier today, as I watched the rain pour down like buckets-God’s tears, I imagine.  That or the powers that be, fucking with our safety-all in the name of depopulation.

Depopulation and rage, that is.  You see, the enemy is shaking in its very boots as we speak.  In one week I have witnessed the unraveling of the monster Jeffrey Epstein, discovered that M.J. is indeed alive, and a vice president going down in the flames he so richly deserves.

Mike Pence is a pedovore.  Not only does he rape and murder children, he is involved in sex trafficking, satanic ritual abuse (I refuse to capitalize it) and cannibalism.  That’s another fifty blogs in itself, so I’ll get to the point.

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The above is over a year of QAnon information, gathered by President Trump and his team.  This is not debatable, these are the hard and gruesome facts.  So, added to the stress and ostracism afforded all God fearing patriots who love their president?  Let’s add the targeted individual into the mix.  Feeling queasy yet?

This is for those of you who have fought the good fight, stood your ground and spoken your truth for the last three or so years.  We are God’s anointed, and every bit of evil will be eviscerated from the planet earth.

Take note you demons, you Jezebels and fools:  we’re coming for you.  And we have God Almighty on our sides.

Move over, bitch.

Chimes of Freedom

I don’t care how strong or stoic you are; when it comes to your heart, or the breaking of it; your grief will find its way. Losing my ability to run from my emotions today, I finally let go and cried on my golden retriever’s neck-is there any better place for waterworks? Your canine/feline’s neck? Sigh.

The fall weather makes my heart sing-I love the cool air, the life transforming sunsets, and the harvest of a hard Summer’s work. Everything, from hay rides to pumpkins-it’s all good, I treasure every day. Big blankets, cinnamon burning on the stove, my pup at my feet. A Holy Bible. A Dean Koons. A warm cup of cocoa next to the fireplace, even if it is just gas. Our wood stove in the kitchen, cranking out heat so strong I walk around buck naked some days: the hot flashes don’t bode well with my husband’s desire to warm his feet, which have no circulation due to frostbite obtained in a long ago hunting trip.

My day turned from glorious to harsh reality in ten seconds flat. While hiking at Speedwell Forge, a beautiful but far away place. We go there maybe every two weeks, and due to recent flooding-we hadn’t been in months. Halfway through the trek I took out my cell. A screen I had seen only once before appeared; some sci-fi looking alert. I couldn’t turn the stupid phone off, and I was set to take pictures of an ethereal waterfall. I knew I was being targeted, and I was wild.

DSCF6656

I took my phone apart and head out towards the jeep. I was furious. Speech is not free in America, and hasn’t been for some time now. If you have a voice that goes against the mainstream media, you will be silenced. Period. Not only will they shadow ban on social media, but they will fuck with your electronics until you’re at the point of pulling your hair out. Literally.

Do you have any idea of how long it takes me to write a blog? Hours. The screen will go blank just as I am getting going, suddenly I will lose my work-even after I have saved it. It sounds silly, but after two years of this crap, I am beyond angered, frustrated, homicidal. Okay, not homicidal, but seriously?

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I have taken on an assignment from Jesus. For two years I have been led, by the nose at times, on a quest for truth. THIS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH POLITICS (the deep state contains more than a few Republicans, Mike Pence being a satanic, POS pedophile himself-and yes, I have proof)and due to the successful mission of Project Mockingbird-the media is full of CIA operatives, who are trained to “brainwash” the lowly general public. I will write more on this subject, and include research affirming my statements.

The point of all of this is that while I have no choice in the matter; while I don’t go down the rabbit holes with any joy in my heart; the fact is, this is how God wants to use me, in the here and now. He has been preparing me for such a time as this. Losing friends and family has been hard on my psyche, and three are days when the loneliness and isolation leave me breathless and weeping.

No. I didn’t ask for any of this, but I sure as hell fire will do my very best, to be the hands and feet of my Lord and Savior, Jesus.

Queen of England to the Hounds of Hell

There is a frenzy, a terrible excitement in the air.  Tomorrow is Donald Trump’s 4th of July celebration-and there are some of us (okay, a ton of us) who are hoping for a big reveal, and we are hoping that John F. Kennedy, Jr. is the surprise.

Oh, you say, my God that is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard!!  At least that is what my sister in law said to me last Thanksgiving, after I announced that John would be attending the Macy’s Day parade.  I waited all day to throw it back in her face, but nothing came of it.  Some say he was Santa in another parade, but that wouldn’t have helped.

“Look!  Look at that television!  I am telling you that the Santa on that float is John F. Kennedy, Jr. himself!  How can you NOT see that?”

Nope.  I’ve been butt hurt enough lately, no thanks.

So, I have been keeping all hope at bay, as the Q post that stated that John isn’t alive pissed me off beyond all logic and reason.

“It’s a betrayal on the largest of levels!,” I wrote to Joe M., a dude on Twitter who was calmly trying to tell me to get bent.  It hurt, and it hurt much more than I thought it would or could.  In the past two and a half years, the patriots have been maligned, censored and shunned; given disinformation because damnit that’s  how military intel works, and and woke above and beyond the call of duty.

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Why are YOU screaming, bitch?  At least you can walk down the street without being assaulted, or worse.  I mean, STFU ya snowflake.  Can you feel me on this?  If people would just calm the F down, and do their own research!!!!! there would be much less TDS, and much more healing of this country.

I felt a buzz about me throughout the day, it was electric.  I had more energy than I have in years, and my man even spoke about what a great mood I was in-that never happens.  I have been praying and questioning and searching my soul.

And the Holy Spirit led me to this video.

I know who won’t be sleeping tonight.

John, I pray an army of angels protect you and your family.

We will never fully know the sacrifices you made for this country.

Your father’s death will be avenged~