“I am not suicidal. I am not suicidal.”

I didn’t know Isaac well, but we were in touch, now and then.  I wrote to him to offer help with the counseling (for the Satanic Ritual Abuse survivors) but turns out he needed people in LA, not Pennsylvania.  He had a good heart.  He began a truth movement, targeting people he knew in Hollywood (Isaac was an actor) and outing their evil, pedophilic debauchery.  Seth Green was his first, and I remember watching his very first video.  He and Seth were good friends, and he was extremely emotional.  It took great courage to take this to the public.

Some things were accomplished, and foremost in the minds of those who loved him was the bothersome question:

How in the bloody HELL is this man going to stay safe?

Moments prior to his appearance on the [Alex Jones] show, I contacted him to offer some support-Isaac was anything but frightened or nervous.  Afterwards, we both laughed at how hard AJ tried to get him riled up-we laughed harder when Isaac stuck to his story, and held on to his integrity.

I was scrolling through Twitter when I saw the news:  Isaac Kappy dead, of suicide, after jumping from an Arizona bridge.

No!  NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I went to his last video-he was in trouble.  He fucked up.  He repeatedly said that he was not suicidal.  Isaac struggled with addiction (another commonality) to Meth and gambling.  He was honest about it.  But things had been looking up for him recently:  a combination of his new music and a brighter outlook on life.  He fondly called his followers famalam, and his air hugs were poignant in a way I can’t put to words.

I cried for hours.  Sobbed, actually.  It is hard for the regular Joe to understand the bond the QAnon community shares.  I have worked in an ER, and in nursing homes-when you work in a war zone, you share an intimacy with your coworkers-just as veterans of the military do.  The adrenaline is pumping and you rely on you peers to support you in the fight for victory, justice.

Not unlike those of us who support Donald J. Trump, QAnon, and the fight to crush the blackhats and make America Great Again.  We are vulnerable digital soldiers, and the dangers involved in speaking against this otherworldly deep state are real.  William Cooper, Seth Rich and now, Isaac.

This isn’t over.

There will be justice for Isaac.  He fought so hard.  The reality of his day to day exposure to victims and their stories, combined with the stress of staying safe took their toll.  He always said that nobody would mess with him, implying that there was a security team of sorts, the likes of Dirty Harry and Bikers for Trump…I find it chilling to think of him in his final moments.  When he realized his fate, how terrified he must have been.

It is my belief that Mr. Kappy is with his famalam in Heaven, where his tears are wept away-and he doesn’t have to run, from anyone, ever again.

 

Something Keeps Calling Me

I don’t know if I said this before, so I will try and communicate it now:  anything and everything I write that means something comes directly from the Holy Spirit.  My blogs aren’t written off handedly-there is a spiritual connotation, God gives me the song, and when the synchronicity becomes too much to bare?  I cave, and I write.

Right at this minute there is a war going on:  for your soul, your mind and your faith.  God promised us in Revelations that the enemy can’t take your soul, but what would happen, say, if you sold it?  That’s right-to the other team, the spiritually corrupt enemies of Jesus Christ-they are working non stop to control your thoughts, prayers and mind.

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Some of us have known Jesus our entire lives.  It’s not that we knew who He was as tiny tots, but it is my belief that we knew His love from the word go-I am one of these people.  One of my earliest memories is that of sitting on the pot as a small child.

Please let my family be happy, healthy, holy and safe.

How many toddlers come out with that?  And how many knew at a very young age that they were loved and protected by a gracious and loyal God?  My mother raised us in the Catholic church-and if we learned anything it was to FEAR Him.  At 5 years old I was petrified to step on the crack of a sidewalk, as I assumed that it would, indeed, break my momma’s back.  But when I was alone?  In the quiet, by myself I felt  the love of Jesus.  I don’t think I would have managed the childhood drama trauma if I didn’t know that at the end of the day, God was in control.

And yet, as I grew older, I became an anxious bundle of phobias and limitation.  We were raised to be alarmed at anything and everything.  My very own sister was in a high chair until the age of twelve, but that’s another story for another day.  I remember my first kiss, Tom Shunder-the absolute crush of my life.  I was fifteen and knew that I could not tell my mother.  She had actually told me that you can get pregnant from kissing boys-and I believed her!  So there I was, the next day, looking up French kiss in the Encyclopedia Britannica-it makes me sad just thinking about that day.

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If you give it your all, this precious thing called Faith will suffice.  God’s grace is sufficient.  There is nothing to fear.  If something doesn’t sit well with you?  Call out His name.

 

Les Deplorables

TRIGGER ALERT   TRIGGER ALERT  TRIGGER ALERT

Today is the day that Inspector General Horowitz releases the IG Report.

There will be some truth told today, and not a one of us is going to like it, that’s right.  None.  It was Barack Obama’s intent to slaughter as many Christians as possible:  this information can be found on http://www.whitehouse.gov.  

He bought the guillotines (hundreds of thousands)

He bought the black caskets  (millions)

I will provide the proof.

 

 

Sitting here on Slaughter Beach-named after the migratory Horseshoe crabs washed up on the shore in early June.  This is their breeding ground, and I have been told that you can’t kill them, it’s illegal.

And, as I write this?  I am reminded that it is still against the law to kill Deplorables; at least I believe it is.

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I woke early, eager to watch the sunrise over the bay.  Over the last few days I have had predictable, yet disturbing results when mentioning my beloved POTUS.  As a matter of fact, I would have kept my mouth shut, I mean, I’m on a hiatus-absolutely no need or want for drama.  That didn’t occur to me when the couple staying next door ran into us in the driveway.  I couldn’t help but notice he was military, as his army gear spelled it out.  Here was my chance to talk to another Patriot, and I wasn’t going to miss it.

Thank you for your service soldier!  So, what are your thoughts on our amazing President?

“Sorry ma’am, I can’t comment-good or bad-about the president when in uniform.”

I could feel the underlying tension-you could cut it with a knife.

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I was confused and saddened.

Then, a truly enchanting conversation with the neighbor down the beach.  Effervescent and loving, we bonded immediately.  She was a nurse in our home town, and I brought up my blog.  Not politics, my blog.

I hope to purchase a small cottage on the bay, and I believe the president is working on this country’s affluence as we speak.  Things are going to change for the better, don’t lose hope!, I chirped.

With that being said, the woman turned abruptly away from me.

“Have a nice stay,” she mumbled as she ran, not walked, for her porch.

Hmmm.  Maybe I don’t want a house on the beach in Delaware.

Honey, you’re on vacation, give it a rest.

Now I’m supposed to avoid conversation with other humans?  I think not.

Will we ever live in unity Abba?  Will this nation come together and heal, as it did in the days and months after 9/11?

As I headed for the beach this morning, I ran into a lovely man named Kai.  From Sweden originally, but now living in upstate New York-we talked for the better part of an hour.  We really hit it off, so I didn’t think I was out of line when I showed him the video of Michael O’bummer on the Ellen DeGeneres show.

“Now that is what you call anatomically correct.  No doubt, that’s a man.  Holy shit!!!”

He warned me his wife, Lucille, was headed our way.  He told me to avoid politics at all costs:  My wife will eat you for breakfast.  Do yourself a favor.

And so it was, after discussing the removal of our history, illegal immigration and Trump’s tweets-she said this:

“You know who I really, really liked?  John McCain.  Now THERE was a man with balls.”

Before I stroked out, God reminded me that most people continue to watch the MSM narrative.  It won’t be long before the lamestream is out of our faces for good.  But in the meantime?  I will love humanity whole heartedly, despite our differences.  I don’t want to argue, I want to encourage, uplift.  I had to admit it, I loved this woman.

Later, Lucille said this to my husband-

“I simply adore your wife.  Even if she is a hippy who voted for Trump.”

Carpe Diem folks.  Get out there and love someone today!  Find the common denominator, and love the crap out of anyone who shares the ground you stand on.

For only when we come together will we change the world, one day at a time.

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The Turning Point

There comes a point in one’s life when they stop fighting.  You know the person because, hopefully, you are the person who may be the family oddball, black sheep or scapegoat-primarily because you can think for yourself.  When you break the chains of codependency, you truly live in a land of freedom; but may I caution you to maybe, if possible, not argue, harass or demean anyone for any reason-especially for their political or private beliefs.

The past three years have hardened our determination to fight for God and country.  Yet we are weary and battle fatigued; some of us have PTSD, others family in the military.  Basically a group of anonymous patriots who want our God given rights to be protected, our children safe, human trafficking ended.  Our families divided, our friendships lost-it adds up and it is my belief that most of us just want the truth to come out.

Yet we remain in suspended animation, awaiting the other shoe dropping-the one that will send the people you love reeling in thoughts of hopelessness, or helplessness.  I have learned a few things about the Great Awakening, and in so doing Jesus has shown me how to overcome any thoughts of enmity or rage.  I have come through to the other side, through persecution and great grief-and now I want nothing but God, love and peace in my life.

I’m not perfect, I still fight dirty on Twitter when I’m fatigued.  I can meme with the best of them, but I try to do it with humor.  I will not fight, condemn or fear another man.  Simply put?  Don’t harsh my mellow man.

You hide in your mansion, with young people’s blood…   – Dylan

For every fallen angel, demon and predator-to those of you who hide in the dark alleys and crawl the crevices-God have mercy on your souls.

The best we can do, as soldiers of Christ, is allow His love to fill our hearts, His grace to calm our souls.  We need to love one another back to health, one day, one need at a time.

The Storm has finally arrived.

I hear it’s going to be biblical~

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News to Break Your Heart

This news broke on the Patriot hour not 45 minutes ago.  Please be forewarned: the information is raw and chilling, but in order to ensure this never, ever happens again-we must face the music.

Our children and future generations deserve this.

Rating: R  Not intended for children.

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God will have His victory over evil, and that’s a threat, not a warning.

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.

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.