The Interlude

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Who I Am…

I spent the morning in tears as I do most days. I’ve fought so hard to get out of this place – into a lighter and more joyful mindset. But maybe I’m not meant to. The Bible says there is a time for mourning. Although I remember Angie teaching me that it’s a 3-day process when we have to let something die. On the 3rd day we have to put it behind us and move on.

I’ve looked at the past for so long as my morning routine because I have felt like the pieces behind me have to be somehow fixed before I can build new pieces. I want my foundation to be good soil – not filled with anger and strife and unforgiveness. And I’ve prayed for so long the same prayers over and over again with no change. I got to a point to where I felt like God doesn’t hear me or answer my prayers anymore. But I know that’s not true because every once in awhile I’ll get a really big win.

I feel like the main reason I ask for so much is because I need those things in order to remember who I am. When all the roles and titles I’ve worn have been stripped away piece by piece with each person who reverenced that version of me, I feel naked and confused. I don’t really know what I am if there’s no one left to tell me.

I’ve been a daughter and a mom. I’ve been many roles in business. I’ve been a villian, a victor, a healer and a saint. I’ve been a sinner and a witch and a warrior and I’ve been the wounded. I’ve been a throw-away and the abandoned. I’ve been an angel and a fantasy. And now, I’m just here – without anymore roles.

I have breath in my lungs and blood pumping through my veins. But I have nothing I’m meant to do. I have no function to anyone anymore. So does that mean I exist but have no more reason to exist? And if that’s true, then what am I to make of this life now? Have I always just been the sum of my current emotion?

In joy I have become joy and in pain I have become the pain. In confusion I have become confusion. In love I became love. But in all I’ve ever been, I was transformed by the desires of hearts of others. Whatever they needed, longed for or called in from the heart, I answered the call and became that for them. 

And in my final act, I became the corpse. I guess that’s what they needed most – the ones I’ve loved. They needed a place to place their anger and disappointments. They needed someone to blame and to hate and a punching bag to help get the darkness out of them. And it wasn’t fun – this role I played. But I suppose if I gave them what they needed, then even in the most painful moments of this life, I have remained one thing above all – I was love. And so I did what love would do. I accepted, I absorbed and I let it be.

So now as I am full of these things – like the lips that suck the venom out of another and swallows it all. What does love do next? Well I suppose she dies and then is covered in stones. She disappears and takes with her all of the pain and shame she willingly accepted.

But I am not the author. I’m just a girl sitting in the interlude waiting on the curtains to open again where I will learn what the Lord has determined will be my fate. I am just the pot. He is the potter. I hope he has a good scene in store for me next. But if he doesn’t well then, I guess he has a reason for that too.

Jesus is enough.

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Purpose or Prison

Sometimes I don’t know what to write. There’s too much – noisy and jumbled. It’s hard to focus on what’s important anymore. I saw my life crumble piece by piece and I fought with everything in me to hold onto even the breadcrumbs that remained.

“It’s your soul awakening,” they say. “It’s your twin flame journey – your purpose on the planet is to unite with this person and bring love to the planet.” How is this love? How is losing everything to become a slave to an expectation I can never overcome a form of love? This feels like the old love. The one spoken of for thousands of years where performance was the way to salvation. To be good and do good and put on your best behavior in order to be acceptable to love’s list of occupants. And even then it seems unfitting to be a number out of a million thriving for the same God’s affection.

I don’t feel love and accepted. I feel tried, tested, judged and sent back to the drawing board time and time again. I’m too much, too little, too intense, too weak, too beautiful, not beautiful enough and in the cuffs of the waves that come to overtake me my moments of rest unleash a tsunami of debilitating thoughts. I wonder can I ever win this war. Can I ever earn this man’s love and affection. Can I ever be good enough to be loved as I am or is the entire purpose to lose myself and become something I’m not in order to earn my keep.

When I’m away from him I feel like he haunts me. When I’m close to him I feel like he’s inspecting me for all that’s wrong. When I’m in the coming together again moments my anxiety is at its peak as I brace myself for the next heartbreak. How can this be love?

In the Old Testament people did all kinds of silly things to conform to a religion that would make them blameless and acceptable to a Holy God. I would imagine they were exhausted from birth through death, leaving the heavy lifting they left unfinished to their children and grandchildren to bare. I don’t want that for my kids. I don’t want that even for my worst enemies. I’m tired. This can’t be the only reason we exist. There must be something better.

I imagine meeting the man who says to me, “I see you. I see all of you – everything you’ve ever been, everything you’ve ever done and all the wrong will you commit still. And I love you fully and completely in every moment of it all.” Is this not the promise of Christ? Never did he blame a woman for her shortcomings. Even the woman caught in adultery he washed clean, scared off her accusers and said, “I don’t condemn you.” I want to be her. I want to have no more accusers or fault finders around me to point out what they don’t like when they look at me. I want to be free to be me in my best moments and worst moments too and never lose a moment of sleep in the comfort of love’s unwavering and unfailing embrace.

I know Jesus loves me. He woke me from the dead, showed me a screen with hope and a future and then he brought me back to life – healed and blameless with a new chapter ahead. I want this again. I want the love of God to be the guide that truly uplifts and delivers me to the place where that love isn’t just remembered like a distant dream but felt and experienced always – every morning when I wake up through the day and into my peaceful hours of rest. To be loved like that. It seems inhuman. It seems impossible. But I know it exists and therefore how can my heart ever settle for less?

I just thought about the Apostle Paul being struck down and then about Scott. I don’t know why.

Well, I’m going to bed and rest in the love of the Lord. And I’m going to believe tonight that something beautiful is coming soon.

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The Gift of Prophecy

Jesus is the Spirit of Prophecy – says Revelation. I know this to be true but before tonight never saw it quite so simplistic as I do now. I had never prayed before like the night I was dying on my mother’s dining room floor at 17 years old. This is likely because I’d never been so removed from the world before as was made possible in between two worlds as my heart was coming to a stop.

The gift of Heaven for me was in meeting the council and reviewing my life. They showed me my future here on earth and we agreed I had to come back for a great purpose; although I wasn’t able to retain any memory of what they showed to me after I woke up back in my body here.

If it weren’t for the gift of Christ coming to me decades later in 2016 with a powerful message when I’d passed out on the bathroom floor in fear that my ex was dying (literally his head was swollen up the size of a basketball and blood covered his face), I’d have likely been convinced at some point that my remembrance of the Council and the foreseen future was some sort of evil act of sorcery. I don’t think any of the people who have condemned me or called me a witch are purposefully trying to hurt me. I just think humans fear what they don’t understand and curse what they fear. It’s part of standing in alliance to what we’ve been taught by the people we love and know and trust. But on that night in 2016 when Christ said to me, “How can you doubt me, I was the one who woke you,” he was directly answering the complaint I made just before I passed out.

You see, earlier that day during the man’s brain surgery, I went outside of the Medical Center, looked up at the sky and prayed for his surgery. Before I could even complete my prayer, I loudly heard in the Spirit, “It’s over.” The download was complete and specific in that I was shown that I would never again spend a day in that hospital where I’d earlier lived for an extended period of time. I was shown that it was the last brain surgery, the last time I’d walk the green tile hallways I’d memorized and we would return home for good. But later that night when I was searching for my phone to call 911 – growing dizzier by the moment, I yelled out, “God, you told me it was over!” – much like a child would yell at her Father who had promised her to ice cream after dinner. I knew that God had made a promise to me. I knew that I had heard correctly and I wasn’t second-guessing myself, oddly, I was yelling at God directly – asking him why he’d tell me something and not follow through with what I’d been shown.

At the very moment when I passed out on the bathroom floor I saw the face of Christ flash in my consciousness and I heard, “How can you doubt me, I was the one who woke you?” And that is when I was taken back to the night when I died on my mother’s dining room floor at age 17. All of it is connected. Each experience in great trial throughout my journey has taken me back to my time in Heaven. And tonight as I type this, I am beginning to realize that the reason for this is because the very gift bestowed upon me is linked to why I was sent back and what I’m walking out right now – a truth in the role Jesus has been playing alongside of me as my guide all along. He is the Spirit of Prophecy. When I’m shown a thing in a dream or a vision, I’m being connected back to the Council who watch over the Book of Life and Jesus is the author of that book. Jesus is the author of the stories for all who are among the living. And because he writes our stories, there is no error in the prophecy he provides. He makes sure it comes to pass and in a sense, it already has come to pass.

These visions are true because THE WORD that framed all creation is the source that has shown me what is to come. It’s like a producer of a movie showing the script to an actress casted for a part in the show. He’s giving me insight into things to come – which ironically look impossible and nothing like the way the world is going for me in the here and now.

So tonight, I’m grateful that I’m being shown this and realizing more that all things are happening in order for me to see this truth. It’s no coincidence that a woman called me last week asking me to pray over her husband Sam who was in ICU on life support as the doctors said he will be braindead and never recover. I prayed the same scriptures over Sam that I prayed over my ex. I even sent them the video of my daughter singing on the stage in the very moment that the FaceTime feed woke her dad up from unconsciousness on the bed in room 79.

This mission isn’t about me getting what I want. Lord knows I never asked for any of this and no one in the their right mind would look at my life over the last 9 years and ask to walk in my shoes. This is about the source of all as THE AUTHOR telling a story of who he is through the words I testify to now.

Sam passed away the night we prayed together. God wanted me to see this because he wanted me to understand that I don’t have the power to pray a prayer and watch a man be raised up from the dead. If that were true, Sam would have had the same outcome, rather than passing over to his heavenly home. Jesus gifted me this experience so that I could be sure that I am indeed powerless. HE IS the only author and the only gift that I have that truly demonstrates my connection to God is the “Gift of prophecy” which as stated in the book of Revelation means the gift of the Spirit of Jesus.

I am very, very grateful for this all tonight. I also feel very compelled to keep writing what I see, what he gives to me in dreams and the unfolding of the book of Skyla as written by my hand in 2015 following visions of scenes I saw in my head.

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My Son in California

It’s mind-blowing to look back on this day. I’ve been writing and journaling events since the 27th of May when I last posted a video here. But today as I’m in Luhie Hawaii preparing to nap and fly home on the red-eye, I pulled up the unscripted script and read my own words with my jaw against my chest.

My last entry ended with these words, and I quote:

“Perhaps my next video will share the vision I was given before I left Florida of a future moment of my son’s life…. As the happy and fullfilled husband and father that he will become…”

Well, he’s not a husband a father, obviously on this date – 32 days after. However, he is living in California after a dramatic and unexpected turn of events. This boy of mine literally woke up, got in his car and drove 24 hours in a Hyundai that barely runs across the southern United States into the west coast where he’s been since May 6th.

He first landed at Gary’s house – a mortgage broker I was in conversation with when I got the 3am call that he was headed my way. Sleeping on a widowed surfer man’s couch for a couple of weeks turned sour when the man’s film festival guys all showed up to bunk over. But in those stressful nights – seeking out hotel rooms so my boy wouldn’t sleep in his car somewhere on the side of the road in Orange County, another mothers heart heard the cry for help and Tara (the script writer I met in the galley of a 737) insisted that she turn her home gym into a bedroom for my boy.

The last few weeks haven’t been easy. Just two nights ago my son threatened to go back to Texas after we argued over the dental work he desperately needs done. Then his father called and told me that if the boy leaves he hopes I can live with myself having my son’s blood on my hands. A horrid thing is a man who blames the woman. I regress – no such accuser earns the right to be called a man.

In all of this I have battled to control in the wells of worry and continually catch myself in error to think that I have any control over anything. Not his life. Not my own life. Not the story that I write now. The only contribution I can offer to any of these storms, setbacks, shifts and miracles is the gift of vision. And even that I never asked for. It was in hopelessness, prayer and full surrender was I shown visions of what will come – starting in the 79 ICU Room. And now, I hold onto the vision I received in Miami of my son grown, happy, in love and rooted in my life as a mainstay. As for the man who holds my heart in that vision. I can’t say for sure who he is. Today I only know that the closest I’ve ever come to finding him was in the radio guy I met from LA. I try to push him aside and open my heart to receive the love God has for me – telling myself that if the radio guy was my person he’d have confessed his love for me by now. It’s been 6 years. I also tell myself that we are required to let go before God will give the replacement. But I don’t know that. It’s human talk. Philosophy. Self-help therapy. It’s not divine wisdom and I’ve never been shown by a vision or dream that I am to shut the door on D. Today, I don’t feel strong enough to do that even if I wanted to. He works the next two weeks so it’s safe to assume that I won’t be seeing him. Although I would love to. I always crave seeing his face again.

My immediate needs are helping my son find a job, get his teeth fixed, attend doctors appointments about his hormones (if this is all God’s will, of course). But what I really wish is to abide in the Lord’s rest, sleep well, exercise, dance, laugh, listen to music and celebrate the unfolding of a dream come true that I have no evidence in the physical of as of yet. Well, just these breadcrumbs I share here today.

Who would’ve thought a few months ago that I’d be living with a script writer I met on an airplane, my son would now be part of our divinely orchestrated family and she would play the role of an angel helping to piece him back together inside and out? He’s healing. I can see it. He’s cutting his hair, wearing basketball clothes, waking up early to door dash and he’s starting to eat the foods she recommends – healthier choices of course.

And maybe I am too. Maybe this is the part where God is showing me that he has opened a door no man can shut and he’s about to make a table for me before my enemies where all will know that He has loved me – lifting me higher in love, abundance, success, purpose and joy – beyond my wildest dreams.

Two years ago when I moved to Florida, my son told me that when I see the #37 to pay attention because he thinks it’s a message from God. He doesn’t know about the promise I received on my 37th birthday. At the time I hadn’t connected the dots yet either. But since I met the script writer on a 7(37) jet, I see this number often. If it’s God letting me know that I’m walking on the path he has lit for me that will soon illuminate the fulfillment of my heart’s deepest desires, I want to say, “Thank you God.” For if I’m being honest, those appearances of 37 have been a rope of hope that keeps me getting up each day – believing that all of this chaos, the trials and the waiting aren’t in vain.

June 29th, 2025. My son is California with me. The characters are all lining up and the puzzle pieces are coming together. Perhaps in my next video I will be sharing news of his new job, new friends, new victories and an unexpected twist in my story too – love, purpose, and a desire to write the unscripted script from a prophecy that only God can orchestrate.

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Sleeping with the Football

My son is sleeping with the football. I feel silly sneaking down the stairs and opening the door to check on a 23 year old but even worse is that I argued with myself the last 5 minutes over whether or not I could get away with taking a picture of him with my flash on to keep here in my memories.

I have an image etched in my head of a photo of him sleeping with a football in the movie room. He slept with that ball every night as if it were part of his very being. He’s also been watching nothing but sports documentaries and Second Chance U since he’s been here. And he’s even been working out a bit in the mornings. Every time I see him he wants to either ride with me where I’m going or he wants me to ride with him on errands.

He does love me. He does miss me and want to be around me. He does need me now.

I remind myself that God never does anything without warning me in some way or another. From the book of Skyla who lost her husband to the many dreams I’ve had that end up having significance to the events in my real life, the hardest trials come with warning.

My last dream that I recall feeling very sad about was before I moved from Miami. I was in a home where I had no room to myself or even a place to keep clothes. He came for me and asked if I was ready. I told him I couldn’t get ready because I didn’t even have anything to wear or even a room to use to prepare myself. He read a story book to the small children and then he left. I was devastated and then I saw my son in the hall and he appeared healed.

This dream seemed to be playing out at Glenn’s house. I didn’t have a room and felt myself dwindling away with each moment in my health, my self-care and my identity. But I had this bitter-sweet joy that Josh was getting vitamin D and healing there.

The very last dream I had of him he was in a place that looked like here (this room). We were together but more like very laid back best friends. There wasn’t any pressure or romance or arguing. Maybe that’s a season to come still. Or maybe it’s already happened in the one night he did stay here. I don’t like it. I want a little fire and passion. I want to see the fear of losing love in him, the way I always had it in me. I want the man who would live for me and die for me and cherish me above all this world has to offer. So,… I hope my next dream incoming gives me a look into something beautiful.

For now, I’m happy that Josh is in a better place each day. I pray God continues to strengthen him and me too. Actually, that’s the perfect thing to ask for tonight in me.

God, please give me the wisdom, strength, words and actions to do all things through you with my son. Help me to love him exactly as you wish for me to love him to help him walk into a bright light. Give me patience, protect my heart, guard my emotions and bridle my tongue. Give me the torch in my actions to open the door or help open the door you wish for him to walk through.

In Jesus Name…

Amen.

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Guilt

The use of guilt to form relationships seems to be a theme in the Glenn & Bruce show. I won’t say anymore about this here. My son is getting phone calls. Strange.

Meanwhile, I miss him terribly. But the good news is, I don’t have time to think about him often. It’s the music that hits the hardest. Oddly in the grocery store, the radio is always playing a song that makes me think of him. As if his soul was acting as the DJ to send me the exact message I needed to hear – just to tug at my heart strings enough to make me almost shed a tear. It’s been nearly a month since we spoke.

Disappearance hasn’t been a game I’ve played well. I want to pretend I’m doing well. I want to make it look like I’m having the time of my life and enjoying fun new things like surfing and exploring new places. In truth, I’ve spent the majority of most days passed in tears and anxiety attacks to the point I can hardly feel my legs throughout the month of June. He’s the only one that watches my IG account and he’s the only one I’m posting for. Perhaps if he sees I’m doing good he’ll want to be part of my joyous life, I subconsciously think as I flip through pictures, carefully select songs and add little funny memes. It doesn’t work. Not with this one. So, I quit.

This is my place of therapy and my outlet to speak the events taking place. This is where I wrestle with truth, speak my mind and my heart and I can do this freely as no one even knows this page exists. And if anyone did find it, they’d never know who writes and speaks on the other side of this screen.

Is he my twin flame? I don’t even know what that means or if I believe in it. But when I see the word – and yes I see it often, I am reminded of the vision I received in the small church where my Granny used to serve. It was 2018 when the woman spoke in tongues and the preacher interpreted what she said – telling my mother that the Lord had heard her prayers and was about to do a big work in her children’s lives. A few moments later the preachers asked the congregation to point our hands towards a man who had cancer on the other side of the room. I did so and I prayed the way I knew how to pray – believing that God and the healing angels were in the midst of us and hearing my heart with intent to answer.

First, I was nearly knocked down by a huge black wing. The wind that came off of this moving being had such force I fell back against my chair. Then, I saw my body morph outside of me and then she turned around in front of me and stared at me. I was looking at myself as a mirror. The other me cracked open like an egg shell that had been struck and the brightest light I’ve ever seen came out of that shell. It rose high and hovered before me as the fiery creature shaped a flame into a type angelic flying being. She looked like a dragon fire. She was beautiful. More beautiful than anything my eyes had ever seen. She was me. She is me. I am a flame.

The song I heard in the story about an hour ago was “Rain Down” by Phil Collins. I was just shown the purple ray of light and the very first candle I ever made called “Hopeful Rain”. He’s seeking hope.

These lyrics are quite alarming. If this is a song I’m meant to pay attention to as a message then he’s hurting and he knows he’s hurt me and he knows he’ll never hold me again. So… he wishes it would rain on him.

In one line it says he’s waiting on me to send him a sign. My sign has to be disappearance this time. I confuse him when I keep coming back and acting as if nothing ever happened. I speak my heart. He tells me he doesn’t want a relationship. I tell him I need to move on and then I come back and see him again with no change. Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

If Rain is purple and purple is hope, then I hope he receives a message from God and chooses to fight for love. If I am love to him. That’s a big if. Although, the book buried does imply there will be one day another encounter. What happens at that time, only he knows. I wrote it as his choice. And so it must be.

Meanwhile, I will pray and use my new little sandbox to ask God to keep me grounded in hope that whatever is to be will be good. If I could have my wish, I’d get a big surprise from him soon. And my son would be healed and in a good place. And my writing would go out to touch millions of hearts who have been jaded by love and given up on the dream of happy endings. Yes, that’s what I would wish.

Goodnight.

Post Script. I just heard, “The only sign he gets is 3 days of darkness.” That’s my confirmation that I’m doing the right thing by disappearing. I am that light and I must be removed for the darkness to be seen and felt.

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He Leaves Son Healed

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Tonight as I was taking a shower I remembered the last dream I had of D while still in Florida. It was like the others in intensity. I woke up in an ocean of misery, gasping for air and feeling suffocated by deep despair. These dreams may not all be real but many have come to pass. And in this one, he came for me and I told him I wasn’t ready. I lived in a house with many rooms but none of them were mine. I was sharing space with others and had no closet or wardrobe to dress for the occasion. I was as Cinderella in the midst of her wicked stepsisters – a slave girl who served everyone else and had no time for her own desires to be met. He asked if I was ready and I told him my situation. He then was in a room with little children reading stories in the home I was occupying. And then he left me. It seemed he went to a far away land where there was a port and for some reason I thought it was New York.

I was torn into pieces to be left behind. But when I walked out of the room where he’d disappeared from I saw my son in the hall. He was healed and in great shape. He was beautiful and vibrant and I hugged his neck – shocked and in so much relief to see him pieced back together again. Then I woke up.

It was bitter sweet to have one prayer answered; my son healed – but to lose the future I’d hoped to find for myself in the process of laying my own life down to stay in a home where I felt I didn’t belong.

Tonight as I sleep in Val’s office with son downstairs on Glenn’s futon in the dining room I feel the familiar feeling of the girl in the dream. She felt out of place as I do now. But she had hope that her prayers may be answered in the near future for her son to have a new chapter.

If I’m being honest with myself, this has been the tear in my heart for years now. I want to follow my heart in the future I’d imagined could be possible for me with the man I fell deeply in love with. But I can’t leave the past behind and have a new page to a new story when the children who were my entire life since I myself was still a kid are in need of help and support. To lose my son would be to wake up in a world I wouldn’t know how to face. And the guilt I’d carry in asking myself everyday if I had done everything in my power to help him out of a dark place would be too heavy for my shoulders to carry.

Why does love have to hurt so bad? Why must a woman choose to lay her life down for others and receive nothing in return? Why can’t I have the man my heart fell in love with and my children in that picture healed and healthy too? Well I guess the answer is a simple one. The man I loved didn’t love me back. For if he did, he’d love what I love and he’d welcome my kids in his life, his home and his future as part of me with open arms. But he’s spoken his desire. He said he doesn’t want that. He said he doesn’t want a relationship with me.

Perhaps the reason the dream bothers me so much is because I felt like it was my fault I wasn’t ready for him. I was in a situation that wasn’t ideal but hoping he’d love me through it, rescue me in a sense and make a way for all of my troubles to be dissolved by a solution that he would propose to welcome me into his life with the foundation of love I already have. But I shouldn’t feel this is my fault. I have done everything I knew to do to show him I loved him and wanted to work with him to have a future together. He point blank refused to entertain such a concept. He wants to be alone. He wants to be in a little garage studio with no dependents and care only about himself and his career. He doesn’t want love. He doesn’t want me.

In love that’s the choice we all make. Opportunity presents and we go within to listen to our own hearts and find out what it wants. I don’t believe we can make our heart love someone. So there’s really nothing more for me to contemplate here.

I pray that with the days that pass this gets easier. I pray that my heart will heal and move on from the last 6 years. The anniversary of meeting him is in 4 days from tonight. It was on the 12th he came into my life – walking into the Aria carrying a case of Stella Black. And the last time I saw him he brought with him a bottle of Stella Black. Maybe that was his way of subconsciously taking me back to the beginning. I miss him as much now as I ever did after that first weekend. I just don’t have the hope I did then. New love is beautiful because it’s unpredictable and wild. It’s walking into the unknown with a blindfold on as your heart beats to the scent of dreams come true – thinking about all of the wonderful scenarios and surprises that could happen next. When the door closes on that hope and the fantasies stop flowing, it doesn’t stop the heart from seeking love, it just makes that love feel more like a heavy elephant sitting on the chest than a bird catching flight.

Even as I try to close this entry, my mind races with ideas to read spiritual messages about twin flames or to seek information about star alignments that can change things in the world of lovers and situations. For some reason hope won’t leave me completely. And that is how I continue to hurt. It’s like my mind and my heart have been at war for so long both are exhausted and neither one can win. I’ve let my heart lead and that only got me burnt badly. So my mind is trying to speak reason and logic into the fiber of my being – telling me to face the music and let it go.

In her kindest voice she says, “I’m sorry he did this to you. I’m sorry he used you for sex and never loved you. I’m sorry you were deceived and hurt but now we must go on.” And my heart swells up with pain as it answers, “But I still love him.”

Tonight, I’m grateful my son is here and that Glenn has opened his heart and his home to us. I’m grateful that I’m not fearing a call from Texas with bad news or another viscous fight between him and his father. I’m grateful my daughter is doing well in Florida and I’m grateful that I’m somehow still hanging in there and getting up for work each day and still carrying enough faith to pray.

I guess if I could pray for the true desires of my heart tonight I’d simply say this….

Dear Father in Heaven,

Please heal my son completely, protect my children, give them hope and a future. And also please give that to me too. Give me my true love and a beautiful new chapter with all of the gifts of love in my children in a beautiful story where my heart is restored to walk in the most glorious days I’ve ever lived on this planet. I wish to have the family, husband and home I’ve always dreamed of having and I wish to have so much joy and love in my heart that my cup runs over. Please let my days of rejection and abandonment be done forever and the seeds of love you’ve planted in my heart to be watered with the best that you have to give.

And your will be done……

In Jesus’ Name,

Amen

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I Am Love

This morning as I was applying my makeup in preparation for 3-legs and back to LA tonight, I saw flashbacks of various versions of myself in the one staring back at me in the mirror. From my earliest memories through childhood, motherhood and in the spiritual realm of visions where I’ve seen myself as Skyla, and the fire. A voice within me asked, “What am I?” and another voice within answered, “love.” Suddenly a script began to speak in verbs, I do love, I give love, I speak love, I am love.

We can’t provide to anyone anything other than the substance of what we are. Perhaps this is the greatest pandemic of the ages for humanity to forget it’s original essence by which it was created. If I’m made in the image of God and God is love then everything that’s not love within me is an intrusion by a parasite – a virus of sorts. It must all go. It must all go today.

During my first flight I felt the shift in the way I looked at each person boarding the plane as my inner voice found at least one thing – the first thing to come to mind and began the dialogue within. “I love her hair. I love his shoes. I love her makeup. I love his rosy cheeks. I love their matching shirts.” Every new image of every new person to cross my view was immediately part of this mind-chatter game I had playing inside of me and every person was welcomed by the voice of love within me. I saw no wrongs, had no critical language or accusations in my thoughts. I was seeing through the lens of love and remembering more and more that love is who I am because it’s what I am.

As we prepared for landing in our final flight I saw my ex’s number come across my text message screen. For a moment I felt the chilling wave of anxiety wash over my system as it does everytime I see that name. My mind immediately jumps to conclusions that something bad has happened or he wants to report a troubled situation or even is messaging me to ask for money. I closed my eyes and prayed for peace and strength and for God to handle whatever was about to surface and then a wave of worry was replaced by a wave of relief as I viewed the message. It was just a question about our son’s bank account. Later as I was sitting in the Salt Lake City airport waiting time to board to the next flight I had a memory of my cousin Ryan messaging me months back to share news of his new business he’d formed organizing garages and hauling off unwanted items from people’s homes. Like a puzzle piece of great treasure I forwarded his message to my ex. “This is something the two of you men can do together and keep separate from disability,” I said. That led to a conversation unpacking the idea and our conversation ended with him texting, “Thank you for this heads up and idea.”

It was just last night I wrote a blast email to a group on meetup about the subject most heavy on my heart – forgiveness. And as I write this now I remember the etymology study I did after my stepdad passed on the biblical meaning of this word. It’s quite distant from what we perceive in the phrase, “Forgive him,” – as if this is an act of pardon and release from a horrid act of another. The root meaning of forgiveness is seated in unconditional, unrestrained pure love. It’s comparable to saying, “Give this person the absolute best of all things – all their wishes come true.” Learning this changed my perception about the ones who had hurt me and how I viewed them; as if I was a good person to allow them to continue breathing without vengeance. I had a long way to go to learn to truly forgive – to bless the villains of my past by whole heartedly wishing the very best for them in every way from perfect health, abundance, love and wholeness in joy.

If I am love and I believe it was confirmed loudly to me this morning that my task is to remember that I am indeed love; then I look forward to remembering what that means without all of the false lenses I’ve been handed by a lost world of psychological experts acting as the blind leading the blind.

Love keeps no record of wrongs and love trusts all things.

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Where Am I Now?

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God I took notes today in church and I have been remembering the times you have helped me. But I’m trying to remember when I’ve ever felt like I do now. From a love perspective, I’m broken. I’ve felt broken many times saying goodbye to people who didn’t want me around anymore. This has happened with all of my dads, my mom, my ex-husband and my children eventually too. But now I’m in this strange city and the only person who still talked to me doesn’t want anything to do with me. I don’t think I’ve ever been truly alone before like this.

Tamra I thought would be a likeminded friend but within 3 days of my arrival she’s back with her boyfriend and he’s now able to come into this home at will with a code to the door and I don’t even have a lock on my room or bathroom and I feel strange in this situation. Likewise, she had said I could use her car but now her son wants to use it to drive uber and make money. So, I’m not sure what steps I should take next.

I need a car. I need a friend. I need a job. I need your help and direction.

I miss my family. I know it’s not the same anymore and I don’t think you want me to go back to Houston or to Florida. In fact, I thank you for removing me from Florida. But I really thought this place was going to set my soul on fire and I’d arrive just knowing why you sent me. But I don’t know why I’m here God. I don’t know what I’m meant to find. I really believed with all of the 37’s this morning that something amazing would happen today. And it did. I mean – a lot of little things happened but I’m here alone again tonight in my thoughts and I’m sad and wish I had laughter and joy and singing and dancing in my life. I wish I had a job offer that would make my heart sing with hope again. I wish I had a man in my life who was trying to court me with genuine interest to love me as you love me. I wish I had a home God and a car of my own to drive. I wish I had vision of what you’re doing in my life because I can’t see and for so long now I have felt blind. I don’t know what you’re doing. I don’t know what your plan is. I don’t know anything anymore but I’m filling this comforter with tears again and I’m begging you to help me and encourage me and give me a breakthrough.

Everything I feel like you place on my heart I chase after and I try God. I try to envision a plan where my book become a film but I have to accept that maybe you don’t want that to happen. I try to envision myself back in real estate but after a full day with a man who works a luxury team, he didn’t even bother to call me back. I won’t hear from Brad until Tuesday and I don’t see how he can pay me well to sell widgets considering it’s a new position. I went to church today thinking I’d meet someone special and I felt so outcasted. The only person who spoke to me was the real estate agent named Crystal. Maybe that’s the one I needed to meet. But for what? Are you going to build your real estate house upon me and a woman who has no idea what direction she wants to go in building a brokerage?

Maybe we could target people who are caregivers – needing to place their parents in a home or who have just lost a loved one. I don’t know – I’ll do anything God you want me to do but I need you to please show me the way. Did I make a mistake today trying to earn a seat at the table with Nathaniel rather than asking Crystal if she wanted to join forces? Maybe the men of pride and ego are the ones you’re asking me to turn away from still.

God whoever you want me to walk with now, please make it clear to me. Have them reach out to me – stir hearts and move mountains. If you want me to work for one of these people, I lay it in your hands and ask you to move mightily to send them after me by the works of your spirit in their actions and moves. I don’t want to chase after anything or anyone in vain again. I’ve done this too many times already.

Crystal had your light in her eyes. But Lord I don’t know what to believe anymore. I lay this down at the cross tonight Jesus. I need a car Lord. I need help. I need a home. I need your people in my path. I need you Jesus……

I surrender and try to be silent and quiet and I wait.

Your word says those who wait upon the Lord will rise up on the wings of eagles and will walk and not faint and run and not be weary…. I wait Lord.

Thank you Lord…. in Jesus’ name amen.

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