WHAT ON EARTH IS GOING ON?
(SEPTEMBER, 2012)
You know what? God really likes to blow people away. Not in a roman candle type of way. He does BIG, and He includes the unique. Rainbows, whales, parting of the seas, burning bushes, rolling thousand pound stones - BIG. He also enjoys shocking wayward Catholics. The shock is a bit of a long story, so I'll try to make it short. As short as things like this can be.
My Background (the bratty kid): I used to be that rather wayward Catholic.
I went to Confession, Mass and Communion once a year – on Divine Mercy Sunday, the weekend after Easter. Somehow, I got it into my head that by doing so, I was wiping my slate clean, like a free pass from God.
My Background (the bratty kid): I used to be that rather wayward Catholic.
I went to Confession, Mass and Communion once a year – on Divine Mercy Sunday, the weekend after Easter. Somehow, I got it into my head that by doing so, I was wiping my slate clean, like a free pass from God.
After Divine Mercy weekend, I'd spend the rest of the year messing my slate up again, sinning here and there, and everywhere. The next year would roll around, and I'd do the same thing. Confession, Mass, and Communion. Confession, Mass, and Communion. I figured I was forgiven, so if I got hit by a bus, God and I were cool. My intentions were pure, if not ridiculous. Believe it or not, I did this for well over 12 years.
Please don't get angry. Some people think how I talk about my love for God is disrespectful. I promise you, it's not. I’ve always had a simple view of God. Maybe it's childish in its simplicity. I just don't think He is that complex. He can't be, or I will lose my simple mind.
God is a good and very loving parent. He is always there to heal my wounds, and that's a good thing, because I get wounded all the time!
Please don't get angry. Some people think how I talk about my love for God is disrespectful. I promise you, it's not. I’ve always had a simple view of God. Maybe it's childish in its simplicity. I just don't think He is that complex. He can't be, or I will lose my simple mind.
God is a good and very loving parent. He is always there to heal my wounds, and that's a good thing, because I get wounded all the time!
When I was a kid, I believed He had a home in the east, and His Son, Jesus, enjoyed sitting under a giant apple tree eating beef jerky and nuts and drinking iced tea. He looked like a lumberjack to me - red checkered shirt, big arms, big neck, deep voice - a man of few words. I love spending time with Him under that tree. When I've thought my world was falling apart, I'd lean on his shoulder for a good cry. He'd pat my knee and, without candy-coating things, say, "Yeah, that was a pretty big mistake you made. You have to face up to it and make things right. No, I don't hate you. Of course not. I'm here, aren't I? And I'm not leaving either."
Even when I thought the world hated me, He comforted me. Talk about relief.
I've always been comfortable with God, our Father. He has always been affectionate and fun. As a child, I was convinced He used the black and white leftovers from making pumas and polar bears to paint zebras, whales, Dalmatians, and skunks. I was constantly chattering His ears off - at school, at home, and before falling asleep. I assumed everybody had conversations like this.
Our Father is like a stern Grandpa to me. I think it sometimes makes others afraid of Him, because He can be stern and strict. But He's also the type of grandpa who will slip candy into your pocket before dinner, so later, you can smirk at each other about your secret across the supper table. He's so beautiful and Loving.
Even when I thought the world hated me, He comforted me. Talk about relief.
I've always been comfortable with God, our Father. He has always been affectionate and fun. As a child, I was convinced He used the black and white leftovers from making pumas and polar bears to paint zebras, whales, Dalmatians, and skunks. I was constantly chattering His ears off - at school, at home, and before falling asleep. I assumed everybody had conversations like this.
Our Father is like a stern Grandpa to me. I think it sometimes makes others afraid of Him, because He can be stern and strict. But He's also the type of grandpa who will slip candy into your pocket before dinner, so later, you can smirk at each other about your secret across the supper table. He's so beautiful and Loving.
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You see, God is my Father, and I am His "adorable," headstrong 3-year-old. He is constantly trying to keep me from sticking my fingers into things like electric sockets or piranha tanks and burning my hands on things that are hot or knocking my noggin on the corner of a table. (If you have children, you know the drill.)
As a willful and curious child, I am determined to play with the friendly piranha or take a look at that stove top. Occasionally, I do manage to get my hands on a pretty little fishy, because I am stubborn, and I want what I want. He definitely knows it's coming.... Fishie meets paw, and what happens next? Yes. My hand gets mangled and chomped up. I'll start to howl about the pain and the agony and how life isn't fair. I'll yell at Him for not warning me; for not keeping me away from that mean old fish! I'll raise my yucked up hand and tell Him to look at all the ugly teeth marks. "Why!" I'll howl. "Oh, why me?!" Of course, He's still there to save my fingers and bandage things up. As I sniffle, He might point out that the tooth marks don't look so bad. If we add eyebrows here and a nose there - instant funny face. See? Silver linings. |
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Sure, there've been times when I thought I was all big and bad and didn't need Him. I'd treat Him like a tow truck (only call when I needed help). Sound like any teenagers you know? But who do you think I ran to when I was sick or in trouble or hurt or scared? My Heavenly Papa.
Has anyone ever prayed you'd do well before a test? (Me.) That your favorite baseball team (the Yankees) makes it to the Series? (Me.) That your spouse gets home safely? (Me.) That a sick dog gets better? (Me.) That you get the job? (Me.) That your check doesn't bounce? That you have a baby? That you aren't pregnant? That someone will still love you after you crossed too many lines during a night of drinking? That your marriage can be fixed? That your parents don't beat you senseless for wrecking the car? That your child survives the car accident? That you have the strength to keep living, because you've lost a child?
You can have all the money in the world, but when push comes to shove, fast cars, a corner office, and a bag of gold aren't going to help as you're looking at a loved one in a hospital bed or your heart is breaking into bits. But God can and does. We may not see His answers in front of our noses immediately, but He is always with us, helping us goofy people along.
Has anyone ever prayed you'd do well before a test? (Me.) That your favorite baseball team (the Yankees) makes it to the Series? (Me.) That your spouse gets home safely? (Me.) That a sick dog gets better? (Me.) That you get the job? (Me.) That your check doesn't bounce? That you have a baby? That you aren't pregnant? That someone will still love you after you crossed too many lines during a night of drinking? That your marriage can be fixed? That your parents don't beat you senseless for wrecking the car? That your child survives the car accident? That you have the strength to keep living, because you've lost a child?
You can have all the money in the world, but when push comes to shove, fast cars, a corner office, and a bag of gold aren't going to help as you're looking at a loved one in a hospital bed or your heart is breaking into bits. But God can and does. We may not see His answers in front of our noses immediately, but He is always with us, helping us goofy people along.
But running with the simplicity theme, I also have a simple way of understanding Jesus' sacrifice for us. The example is ridiculous, but it helps give the gist.
Once, when me and my best friend were kids, we decided it would be a good idea to throw a dozen eggs at our neighbor’s house. Mr. Anderson was a nice man. He never antagonized us. But unbeknownst to our parents, there was a rumor circulating amongst neighborhood kids that buried deep inside Mr. Anderson's dark backyard were a handful of children that had disappeared on our block a few years ago. All us kids knew it. He even used their toenails to make the chain he wore around his neck. So on that knowledge and belief, my friend and I waged war on his house. We caused a pretty good mess too. Eggs can stain houses when they bake under a southwestern sun at 105 degrees.
Mr. Anderson somehow knew I was at least one of the culprits, and he came to my father to complain. My father shook his head grimly and said he’d take care of it. I don't know who scared me more - my neighbor or my father. Strangely enough, this time my dad didn’t hit the roof and smack me upside my head like he usually did (he was a tad volatile). He didn’t toss me over the wall and make me clean up the mess. He didn't turn me over to our neighbor so Mr. Anderson could use my toenails to string another necklace for himself and then bury me under the rose bushes in his backyard with the other kids.
My Dad listened to our discombobulated story, maybe saw how scared we were, and took it upon himself to drag out the hose and spray the house down himself. It was a sacrifice for him. It was certainly humiliating for him. He probably had better things to do that weekend than clean up after his unruly kid. Watch a baseball game perhaps. But he took a look at me and my friend and knew we needed his help. He was willing to take one for the team. We did the crime, and he took the bullet for us. He saved us from the terrifying and certain death we'd suffer at the hands of Mr. Anderson. In the minds of a couple of 8 year-olds, my father saved our butts.
That’s what God did by sending Jesus to us. Jesus came to save our butts. It's not an elegant way of saying it, but it's to the point. Without Him, we'd be buried in Mr. Anderson's dark backyard. Or worse.
Several weeks after my dad saved us, my friend and I got it into our little heads that it would be funny to break some more eggs - this time in our neighbor’s mailbox. We had something for eggs back then.
When my dad found out, this time I didn’t get off so easy. There were consequences for my bad behavior.
My father marched me over to Mr. Anderson's front door and made me apologize. I got a long lecture about eggs, famines, defacing private property, and a detailed description about my butt getting kicked into the following year if I did it again. I had to clean out the mailbox with a toothbrush and bring the mail and newspaper to Mr. Anderson's front door every evening for two weeks (a lifetime to a kid).
And this time, I got the belt.
Once, when me and my best friend were kids, we decided it would be a good idea to throw a dozen eggs at our neighbor’s house. Mr. Anderson was a nice man. He never antagonized us. But unbeknownst to our parents, there was a rumor circulating amongst neighborhood kids that buried deep inside Mr. Anderson's dark backyard were a handful of children that had disappeared on our block a few years ago. All us kids knew it. He even used their toenails to make the chain he wore around his neck. So on that knowledge and belief, my friend and I waged war on his house. We caused a pretty good mess too. Eggs can stain houses when they bake under a southwestern sun at 105 degrees.
Mr. Anderson somehow knew I was at least one of the culprits, and he came to my father to complain. My father shook his head grimly and said he’d take care of it. I don't know who scared me more - my neighbor or my father. Strangely enough, this time my dad didn’t hit the roof and smack me upside my head like he usually did (he was a tad volatile). He didn’t toss me over the wall and make me clean up the mess. He didn't turn me over to our neighbor so Mr. Anderson could use my toenails to string another necklace for himself and then bury me under the rose bushes in his backyard with the other kids.
My Dad listened to our discombobulated story, maybe saw how scared we were, and took it upon himself to drag out the hose and spray the house down himself. It was a sacrifice for him. It was certainly humiliating for him. He probably had better things to do that weekend than clean up after his unruly kid. Watch a baseball game perhaps. But he took a look at me and my friend and knew we needed his help. He was willing to take one for the team. We did the crime, and he took the bullet for us. He saved us from the terrifying and certain death we'd suffer at the hands of Mr. Anderson. In the minds of a couple of 8 year-olds, my father saved our butts.
That’s what God did by sending Jesus to us. Jesus came to save our butts. It's not an elegant way of saying it, but it's to the point. Without Him, we'd be buried in Mr. Anderson's dark backyard. Or worse.
Several weeks after my dad saved us, my friend and I got it into our little heads that it would be funny to break some more eggs - this time in our neighbor’s mailbox. We had something for eggs back then.
When my dad found out, this time I didn’t get off so easy. There were consequences for my bad behavior.
My father marched me over to Mr. Anderson's front door and made me apologize. I got a long lecture about eggs, famines, defacing private property, and a detailed description about my butt getting kicked into the following year if I did it again. I had to clean out the mailbox with a toothbrush and bring the mail and newspaper to Mr. Anderson's front door every evening for two weeks (a lifetime to a kid).
And this time, I got the belt.
When God talks about how we need to stop misbehaving and how we're going to be chastised for not listening to Him, this is what I believe He means, but on a much bigger, much more serious scale.
Whatever happens, He will allow it, because He'll do ANYTHING to save as many kids as He can, and He's not being mean.
He loves us and wants to help us get on the straight and narrow. We're pretty stubborn, though, so we're gonna go through some rough learning.
Think of it like this:
Whatever happens, He will allow it, because He'll do ANYTHING to save as many kids as He can, and He's not being mean.
He loves us and wants to help us get on the straight and narrow. We're pretty stubborn, though, so we're gonna go through some rough learning.
Think of it like this:
We're the kid who lied about getting a bad grade on their report card or beat up another kid in school. We'll get sent to our room without dessert. Or worse - we'll get the belt and won't get any ice cream. It's gonna stink, and it'll hurt, but as we're sitting in our bedrooms sulking about our situation, at least we know that our Papa is still in the living room on the other side of our door talking to other members of the family, and more importantly, that He still loves us. He loves us so much that He's willing to correct our bad behavior so we don't grow up to be heathens!
God has some things He wants us to know beforehand, because we don’t have to get too much of “the belt” if we pray and listen to what He is saying. His Messages are very clear, and they are also amazing and beautiful and indescribable in the way He shares how He feels! And they're REAL! I didn't give up a corporate job, any possible future of having one, and a few good friends for nothing!
So how does it feel when God decides He wants to chat?
God has some things He wants us to know beforehand, because we don’t have to get too much of “the belt” if we pray and listen to what He is saying. His Messages are very clear, and they are also amazing and beautiful and indescribable in the way He shares how He feels! And they're REAL! I didn't give up a corporate job, any possible future of having one, and a few good friends for nothing!
So how does it feel when God decides He wants to chat?
IT FEELS PRETTY GREAT!
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So many people have asked me what it feels like to receive God's messages. How does it happen? Do I hear His voice? Do I fall into a coma? Is there a burning bush involved?
To be honest, at first I thought I was going bananas. I kept wondering, "What's with all these words? Who's saying that?! Knock it off!!" Had it not been for my mom and my spiritual "guidance counselor" at the time, I probably would've disregarded what was happening and taken a lot of aspirin. |
Or maybe not.
Because God is really persistent, and when silver things start turning gold, you kind of question your eyesight too.
He started His Messages off slowly. Between September (2012) when they began, through December of that year, you will find that they are rather short and not so "intense." I think He did this to avoid scaring me. (I was already pulling a Jonah looking for a ship to Miami.) He also gave me little miracles to help me believe that I wasn't crazy; that what I was experiencing was indeed reality. Tangible reality.
I often told Him to go away. I told Him to go find someone "holy" to do the job, like a priest or the Pope or my mother. He insisted, however, that I was the one He wanted for the job. He liked the simplicity of my heart. I told Him it wasn't simplicity; it was density.
Because God is really persistent, and when silver things start turning gold, you kind of question your eyesight too.
He started His Messages off slowly. Between September (2012) when they began, through December of that year, you will find that they are rather short and not so "intense." I think He did this to avoid scaring me. (I was already pulling a Jonah looking for a ship to Miami.) He also gave me little miracles to help me believe that I wasn't crazy; that what I was experiencing was indeed reality. Tangible reality.
I often told Him to go away. I told Him to go find someone "holy" to do the job, like a priest or the Pope or my mother. He insisted, however, that I was the one He wanted for the job. He liked the simplicity of my heart. I told Him it wasn't simplicity; it was density.
Moving on. . . .
When He speaks to me, it is like the voice of truth that passes through me with gentle words. It is a voice. It is nondescript, not booming, or not even a whispery one. It is a light but dominant voice telling me these things that are true. There is an inner impatience that I feel just to be with Him. As I write for Him, my eyes see less. Everything goes somewhat out of focus - not blurry, just thrown into a background - like nothing else is important. I don't go into ecstasies, though. One thing that strikes me is that when I receive His Messages, time has no meaning. I might be writing for an hour, but it will feel like only five minutes have past. It's kind of weird.
There is an incredible depth of emotion when He talks about certain things. Sometimes it is a great feeling of love and affection - like the deep love He expresses for children (and He LOVES children) or for His Angels.
But there are always words, and I can't deviate from them. I do correct my spelling errors and punctuation, but that's it. He is very specific about what He wants to say. His clarifications (or) mostly occur when I don't understand what He means. (Dense head.) He guides me when I can interpret things. He lets me know what I can share and with whom. There are times that I've written words I've never even heard of and yet they are correct - I spell them phonetically, so I have to check the spelling and the meanings afterward. So God is expanding my vocabulary too!
Initially, I felt like I was being pushed out of bed when He wanted to chat. Literally. It reminded me of my grandmother from my dad's side. Saturday mornings, when I generally liked to sleep until noon, she'd come bowling into my room, chirping like a Cardinal. "Get up! It's a new day!"
Getting out of bed was ultimately my choice, but the choice was more like: Get up, because I'm going to pull the covers off the bed and turn on the vacuum cleaner. I can do it the hard way or the easy way (and she always won). It cracks me up (after I wake up). God is kind of like that but not as noisy as a vacuum.
When He wants to share something, it is like a "pull." I constantly worry whether the words are His, or if my humanity is poking out, though. When I get really anxious, He confirms things for me. Sometimes it is a homily that underlines a message. Other times, it's one of the bricks He throws at me (another inside joke) to let me know everything is okay. It's reassuring. I do not want to share anything that is not of God. That's both dangerous and detrimental to us as His Children. It weighs heavily on my heart. I do try and pray for discernment. It's my hobby.
His messages always express a very deep love for us, but there is a lot of urgency too. He is urging people to come to Him and to hear His pleas and those of our Blessed Mother. Our prayers are imperative. Time is all but gone before something is going to happen. I don't pretend to know exactly what that "something" is or when or how it'll go down. Maybe it'll be a major zap from out of the sky or maybe it will be a change that occurs over a period of time. ONLY God knows, and it is a correction for us. It's meant to get us back on the right path, but it won't be easy or pleasant. One thing I hope people understand is this: He is doing it out of love for us; not as a punishment.
I often get questions about a "timeframe" about this coming "storm." As I said, only God knows, and it's easy to make mistakes. I don't mind if tomatoes are thrown at me, so I shared this:
Around the end of 2012, God indicated that some sort of "spanking" or "knock on our collective heads" would occur between the end of 2015 into the very end of 2016. It didn't happen. Or, if something did happen, I totally missed that bus. Ta-da! I was wrong.
It's easy to speculate, because we tend to be curious as humans. BUT, He has emphasized with me over and over that we should not want to be a part of this correction thing.
Our curiosity has a lot of us wanting to know what "it" is and when it will happen, and how, but God is not to be treated as a jigsaw puzzle. Honestly, doing that's crazier than testing our ability to climb a 2000 ft. vertical cliff with numb hands and no rope. From my human standpoint, whatever the "IT" is, it's going to be big, it'll be worldwide, and it'll enlighten us in ways we've never experienced. It will move many people to God, and it will likely give us a severe headache if we happen to still be around. God says pray and don't worry, so I pray and I don't worry. He says that as long as we pray, we'll be strong enough to face whatever comes. I'm willing to wait, love, and do the best I can by Him.
I find it odd now that when this all started, I was angry and fearful - ready to run. What'd He want me for, for pete's sake!?! By His Love and guidance, I've grown to trust in Him, and I'm determined to share the wealth. He is so patient, and when I fought Him, He went out of His way to give me all sorts of neat miracles. The "tangible" miracles are what finally convinced me to shut my trap and pay attention.
When He speaks to me, it is like the voice of truth that passes through me with gentle words. It is a voice. It is nondescript, not booming, or not even a whispery one. It is a light but dominant voice telling me these things that are true. There is an inner impatience that I feel just to be with Him. As I write for Him, my eyes see less. Everything goes somewhat out of focus - not blurry, just thrown into a background - like nothing else is important. I don't go into ecstasies, though. One thing that strikes me is that when I receive His Messages, time has no meaning. I might be writing for an hour, but it will feel like only five minutes have past. It's kind of weird.
There is an incredible depth of emotion when He talks about certain things. Sometimes it is a great feeling of love and affection - like the deep love He expresses for children (and He LOVES children) or for His Angels.
But there are always words, and I can't deviate from them. I do correct my spelling errors and punctuation, but that's it. He is very specific about what He wants to say. His clarifications (or) mostly occur when I don't understand what He means. (Dense head.) He guides me when I can interpret things. He lets me know what I can share and with whom. There are times that I've written words I've never even heard of and yet they are correct - I spell them phonetically, so I have to check the spelling and the meanings afterward. So God is expanding my vocabulary too!
Initially, I felt like I was being pushed out of bed when He wanted to chat. Literally. It reminded me of my grandmother from my dad's side. Saturday mornings, when I generally liked to sleep until noon, she'd come bowling into my room, chirping like a Cardinal. "Get up! It's a new day!"
Getting out of bed was ultimately my choice, but the choice was more like: Get up, because I'm going to pull the covers off the bed and turn on the vacuum cleaner. I can do it the hard way or the easy way (and she always won). It cracks me up (after I wake up). God is kind of like that but not as noisy as a vacuum.
When He wants to share something, it is like a "pull." I constantly worry whether the words are His, or if my humanity is poking out, though. When I get really anxious, He confirms things for me. Sometimes it is a homily that underlines a message. Other times, it's one of the bricks He throws at me (another inside joke) to let me know everything is okay. It's reassuring. I do not want to share anything that is not of God. That's both dangerous and detrimental to us as His Children. It weighs heavily on my heart. I do try and pray for discernment. It's my hobby.
His messages always express a very deep love for us, but there is a lot of urgency too. He is urging people to come to Him and to hear His pleas and those of our Blessed Mother. Our prayers are imperative. Time is all but gone before something is going to happen. I don't pretend to know exactly what that "something" is or when or how it'll go down. Maybe it'll be a major zap from out of the sky or maybe it will be a change that occurs over a period of time. ONLY God knows, and it is a correction for us. It's meant to get us back on the right path, but it won't be easy or pleasant. One thing I hope people understand is this: He is doing it out of love for us; not as a punishment.
I often get questions about a "timeframe" about this coming "storm." As I said, only God knows, and it's easy to make mistakes. I don't mind if tomatoes are thrown at me, so I shared this:
Around the end of 2012, God indicated that some sort of "spanking" or "knock on our collective heads" would occur between the end of 2015 into the very end of 2016. It didn't happen. Or, if something did happen, I totally missed that bus. Ta-da! I was wrong.
It's easy to speculate, because we tend to be curious as humans. BUT, He has emphasized with me over and over that we should not want to be a part of this correction thing.
Our curiosity has a lot of us wanting to know what "it" is and when it will happen, and how, but God is not to be treated as a jigsaw puzzle. Honestly, doing that's crazier than testing our ability to climb a 2000 ft. vertical cliff with numb hands and no rope. From my human standpoint, whatever the "IT" is, it's going to be big, it'll be worldwide, and it'll enlighten us in ways we've never experienced. It will move many people to God, and it will likely give us a severe headache if we happen to still be around. God says pray and don't worry, so I pray and I don't worry. He says that as long as we pray, we'll be strong enough to face whatever comes. I'm willing to wait, love, and do the best I can by Him.
I find it odd now that when this all started, I was angry and fearful - ready to run. What'd He want me for, for pete's sake!?! By His Love and guidance, I've grown to trust in Him, and I'm determined to share the wealth. He is so patient, and when I fought Him, He went out of His way to give me all sorts of neat miracles. The "tangible" miracles are what finally convinced me to shut my trap and pay attention.
The Miracles
(Holy cow, Batman! Did you see that?)
I used to be rather cynical and not very trusting of people. God bonked me on the head (and hard!) to change this disposition. For example, to convince me to speak with our pastor, Fr. Frank (someone I did not know at the time), God lit him up like a white explosion, totally blinding me one day as I went up for Communion.
He has given me so many tangible bricks, I'd be a fool if I said I didn't believe in miracles.
Once, He sent me two gentle mourning doves to greet me on my front steps as a confirmation of something He had shared. God has sent me hawks followed by three obvious crosses and has highlighted endives with sunshine. Yes, you read that right. Endives highlighted in sunshine at the grocery store. I like endives. They usually sit in a little bin next to green beans or something small. I go to pick a few, and the sun comes shining through the window and lights up just that bin. When I was done, the light left. Okay, logic says it happens. It could've been avocados. However...
He has put the impossible reflection of a very small cross on my wedding ring, made the sun pulse, and brought people into my life under the most unusual and unlikely circumstances. I'll share this story with you too.
First, I need to introduce my very holy and very cool mother - Mumsy. Mumsy LOVES priests. She'll cook for them, bake for them, take them out to markets, etc. One day, a priest (Fr. Ignatius) was visiting some mutual friends. All these folks (barring Fr. Iggie) lived in a small town in Texas - El Paso. It's small to me because if you walk into a local Jack-in-the-Box, there's a good chance you'll run into your high school sweetheart, your aunt, or a local newscaster.
Mumsy was invited to breakfast to meet Fr. Iggie. Naturally, she fell in love with him, and they agreed to stay in touch. At the time, he was studying in Rome at the Vatican. They met for only a morning, mind you, but he was the priest who explained to me that I wasn't crazy and that it was God saying hello. Fr. Iggie encouraged me to write things down and to go visit my pastor. (Pastor? What pastor??)
I had a choice of three Catholic churches near my home. (Mumsy knew all three.) I decided to go with Maria Regina simply because it was close to the grocery store (the same one where I get my endives). Per instructions, I went whirling into the rectory, armed with a rosary and a dozen pages of messages. I asked to see the pastor, but he wasn't in. I asked to see the Pastor Junior, and that is how I met Fr. Lawrence. He's another incredible, spiritual priest. He must have thought I was nuts. The meeting went sort of like this:
"Father! I need you to hear my confession before I talk to you!"
"Yes, of course."
"I've missed Sunday mass for the last 20 or so years. I'm sorry."
He was perplexed but did his thing. Then I asked if he believed in miracles. Being a priest, he said, "Certainly. There are miracles everywhere in nature...."
It's very impolite to interrupt a priest, but I held my hands up in the air with a swinging rosary in one hand and a bunch of papers clutched in the other. "NO, Father! I mean real, weird, that's impossible kind of miracles!"
He was very patient as I went on about gold rosaries and endives and birds. I also referenced Fr. Iggie a lot. By the way, I live in a town smaller than El Paso. And to reiterate, I chose randomly this church where I accosted poor Fr. Lawrence. An hour into my testimony, I mentioned Fr. Iggie's full name and locale. That's when F. Lawrence did a double take.
You see, Fr. Lawrence is from another small town. In Nigeria. He asked me a few questions about Fr. Iggie, looked curiously at me, and then got on the horn.
He and Fr. Iggie surprisingly knew each other in Nigeria. They were from neighboring towns. So Mumsy was introduced to Fr. Ignatius by chance who visited for just a morning. She introduced him to me. He told me to go to church. I picked the one church in a small town where one of his Nigerian neighbors was working.
That wasn't a coink-a-dink. I believe God, now. No matter what.
(Holy cow, Batman! Did you see that?)
I used to be rather cynical and not very trusting of people. God bonked me on the head (and hard!) to change this disposition. For example, to convince me to speak with our pastor, Fr. Frank (someone I did not know at the time), God lit him up like a white explosion, totally blinding me one day as I went up for Communion.
He has given me so many tangible bricks, I'd be a fool if I said I didn't believe in miracles.
Once, He sent me two gentle mourning doves to greet me on my front steps as a confirmation of something He had shared. God has sent me hawks followed by three obvious crosses and has highlighted endives with sunshine. Yes, you read that right. Endives highlighted in sunshine at the grocery store. I like endives. They usually sit in a little bin next to green beans or something small. I go to pick a few, and the sun comes shining through the window and lights up just that bin. When I was done, the light left. Okay, logic says it happens. It could've been avocados. However...
He has put the impossible reflection of a very small cross on my wedding ring, made the sun pulse, and brought people into my life under the most unusual and unlikely circumstances. I'll share this story with you too.
First, I need to introduce my very holy and very cool mother - Mumsy. Mumsy LOVES priests. She'll cook for them, bake for them, take them out to markets, etc. One day, a priest (Fr. Ignatius) was visiting some mutual friends. All these folks (barring Fr. Iggie) lived in a small town in Texas - El Paso. It's small to me because if you walk into a local Jack-in-the-Box, there's a good chance you'll run into your high school sweetheart, your aunt, or a local newscaster.
Mumsy was invited to breakfast to meet Fr. Iggie. Naturally, she fell in love with him, and they agreed to stay in touch. At the time, he was studying in Rome at the Vatican. They met for only a morning, mind you, but he was the priest who explained to me that I wasn't crazy and that it was God saying hello. Fr. Iggie encouraged me to write things down and to go visit my pastor. (Pastor? What pastor??)
I had a choice of three Catholic churches near my home. (Mumsy knew all three.) I decided to go with Maria Regina simply because it was close to the grocery store (the same one where I get my endives). Per instructions, I went whirling into the rectory, armed with a rosary and a dozen pages of messages. I asked to see the pastor, but he wasn't in. I asked to see the Pastor Junior, and that is how I met Fr. Lawrence. He's another incredible, spiritual priest. He must have thought I was nuts. The meeting went sort of like this:
"Father! I need you to hear my confession before I talk to you!"
"Yes, of course."
"I've missed Sunday mass for the last 20 or so years. I'm sorry."
He was perplexed but did his thing. Then I asked if he believed in miracles. Being a priest, he said, "Certainly. There are miracles everywhere in nature...."
It's very impolite to interrupt a priest, but I held my hands up in the air with a swinging rosary in one hand and a bunch of papers clutched in the other. "NO, Father! I mean real, weird, that's impossible kind of miracles!"
He was very patient as I went on about gold rosaries and endives and birds. I also referenced Fr. Iggie a lot. By the way, I live in a town smaller than El Paso. And to reiterate, I chose randomly this church where I accosted poor Fr. Lawrence. An hour into my testimony, I mentioned Fr. Iggie's full name and locale. That's when F. Lawrence did a double take.
You see, Fr. Lawrence is from another small town. In Nigeria. He asked me a few questions about Fr. Iggie, looked curiously at me, and then got on the horn.
He and Fr. Iggie surprisingly knew each other in Nigeria. They were from neighboring towns. So Mumsy was introduced to Fr. Ignatius by chance who visited for just a morning. She introduced him to me. He told me to go to church. I picked the one church in a small town where one of his Nigerian neighbors was working.
That wasn't a coink-a-dink. I believe God, now. No matter what.
ON THAT DISCERNMENT STUFF
In spite of my absolute confidence and that of others in the truth of these messages, *note that they do not yet have the official affirmation of the Catholic Church. As I mentioned before, I have contacted the bishop and an auxiliary bishop of our local diocese. The latter told me to "carry on," so I suppose that technically means the Church is aware that I am publishing His Messages. The bishop did not respond. Formal affirmation is apparently a long process and doesn't happen often. I'll be long dead first.
I have the insights, guidance, and wisdom of several priests lending me a hand. They're reading the messages and sound the alarm if need be. I am encouraged to pray for discernment and to completely avoid trying to interpret what I am told. God will explain it when He is ready, and while patience is not in my forte, I trust Him. He always comes through.
I ask you to pray for discernment as I do, and trust in God. He will not lead you astray. I am open to any and all comments and all prayer requests. I want to be God's humble servant. I always pray that what I convey are His Words and are not influenced by the ways of the world, my ways, or anyone else's ways. I avoid watching the news until it is dated. I do not read the prophecies of other "seers," including the messages from Fatima, Garabandal, and the like (as much as I would love to), and I avoid reading certain books about prophecies as well. Again, this is to keep myself from being influenced, for better or worse. To that end, if you happen to email me, please avoid sending any information to that effect - thanks!!
I will make you a promise. If there is ever a time when I have been corrected by a priest, the Church, or by God, because I have written something in error, I will correct it or remove it immediately. I used to think it was inevitable that my personality would weave itself into how I hear Him, but I don't think that has happened after all. Really, as you can tell by my "writing personality," God's words are far more articulate and beautiful!
God has said we will be facing false prophets in the future. I've been accused of being a heretic by a couple of folks surfing the net. Here is what I say to readers about false prophecy, authenticity and discernment:
b. It doesn't matter, because everyone else is doing it
c. You and the Church need to "get with the times" and change to accommodate society
d. God will love us regardless of what we do, so we can do anything we want.
- Remember, you can't con God, and sin is sin, whether we want to hear it or not.
- This doesn't mean you go around judging others, but you can't condone sin.
- That's not doing anyone any favors.
- You don't make excuses for sin.
- God does love us, but like I've said, parents love their children too. That doesn't mean they'll put up with bad behavior and/or not discipline their children, right?
e. It's likely you'll be ridiculed for being a "holy roller" or accused of "shoving your beliefs down throats." I get that a lot and it makes me sad. God reminds me that what I "endure" is nothing compared to what Christ endured on the cross. It puts things in perspective.
7. Pray for discernment. The Holy Spirit is a great and willing guide. He'll let you know when something smells fishy. Open your heart to Him. Pray, pray, pray, and be patient. And still. And quiet. For longer than you want.
8. Read the Bible, so you understand stuff and can't be fooled. As He says again and again, know what He accepts and what He does not accept.
Thank you for believing, for sharing, for praying, and for loving God. His Messages are so loving and beautiful. Pray and read them. Learn and teach others. Share this website with others - that is important too.
I have the insights, guidance, and wisdom of several priests lending me a hand. They're reading the messages and sound the alarm if need be. I am encouraged to pray for discernment and to completely avoid trying to interpret what I am told. God will explain it when He is ready, and while patience is not in my forte, I trust Him. He always comes through.
I ask you to pray for discernment as I do, and trust in God. He will not lead you astray. I am open to any and all comments and all prayer requests. I want to be God's humble servant. I always pray that what I convey are His Words and are not influenced by the ways of the world, my ways, or anyone else's ways. I avoid watching the news until it is dated. I do not read the prophecies of other "seers," including the messages from Fatima, Garabandal, and the like (as much as I would love to), and I avoid reading certain books about prophecies as well. Again, this is to keep myself from being influenced, for better or worse. To that end, if you happen to email me, please avoid sending any information to that effect - thanks!!
I will make you a promise. If there is ever a time when I have been corrected by a priest, the Church, or by God, because I have written something in error, I will correct it or remove it immediately. I used to think it was inevitable that my personality would weave itself into how I hear Him, but I don't think that has happened after all. Really, as you can tell by my "writing personality," God's words are far more articulate and beautiful!
God has said we will be facing false prophets in the future. I've been accused of being a heretic by a couple of folks surfing the net. Here is what I say to readers about false prophecy, authenticity and discernment:
- Question what you read everywhere, including this site. Don't believe blindly. The truth is always in Jesus and His Words, period. Pray about it. God will guide you.
- If anyone says or behaves as if they are the road to Jesus and sort of imply that people should follow them (in the name of Jesus but not Jesus specifically) or because they sound like they know everything.... Eh, not good. It can be difficult to see the difference. A flag for me is when someone has the "me me me" syndrome. It's no longer about God. It's about them. Pride and ego.
- If someone insists they are absolutely correct in all things - be careful. Don't rely on them just because they can quote a few lines from the Bible and interpret freely from there. Dig deep. Know Scripture. Be very careful. Regardless of how much knowledge they have or how many times they've read the Bible, we are all fallible.
- If anyone tries to add to or change Scripture, run! God has given us all we need to know in Jesus and His words. If someone says something against Scripture or goes against the dogma of the Church (and denies this), that's no good. Watch when people pick and choose single sentences or verses to attack others with little context. Plus, picking on other people isn't nice.
- If anyone deliberately disobeys the Church, that's not a good sign. I'm Catholic, and that's what I know. I have to be obedient to the Church. If I were told to remove this website by a member of the Church, I would do it, whether it was the pope or the priest up the block.
- There are common themes in God's words. Here's another piece of the pie. Don't fall for it if someone tries to convince you that:
b. It doesn't matter, because everyone else is doing it
c. You and the Church need to "get with the times" and change to accommodate society
d. God will love us regardless of what we do, so we can do anything we want.
- Remember, you can't con God, and sin is sin, whether we want to hear it or not.
- This doesn't mean you go around judging others, but you can't condone sin.
- That's not doing anyone any favors.
- You don't make excuses for sin.
- God does love us, but like I've said, parents love their children too. That doesn't mean they'll put up with bad behavior and/or not discipline their children, right?
e. It's likely you'll be ridiculed for being a "holy roller" or accused of "shoving your beliefs down throats." I get that a lot and it makes me sad. God reminds me that what I "endure" is nothing compared to what Christ endured on the cross. It puts things in perspective.
7. Pray for discernment. The Holy Spirit is a great and willing guide. He'll let you know when something smells fishy. Open your heart to Him. Pray, pray, pray, and be patient. And still. And quiet. For longer than you want.
8. Read the Bible, so you understand stuff and can't be fooled. As He says again and again, know what He accepts and what He does not accept.
Thank you for believing, for sharing, for praying, and for loving God. His Messages are so loving and beautiful. Pray and read them. Learn and teach others. Share this website with others - that is important too.
GOD'S SENSE OF HUMOR
One of the first things God told me was that I would be facing a lot of skepticism, obstacles, disbelief, ridicule, anger and other unpleasantries as His servant, and gee was I looking forward to all that.
As I began to publicize this website, like a wimp, I started with three priests and my mother. I extended it to a handful of family members and a few close friends - easy targets. Finally, I branched out. Revealing to others that God is talking to me wasn't exactly easy - it still isn't. There are "worldly" risks involved that need to be accepted.
Ironically, before September of 2012, if someone had told me God was sending them messages, I would've chalked it up to a case of batty holy roller-edness. I'd think, "That person needs to get on a few pills." And I'd slap a red flag on their name and sideline their job application. My colleagues and I would certainly have laughed in amused shock and re-told the story to other colleagues. "This person is absolutely crazy!" we'd say. "A real nut job! Look at this website!"
It's true. In my worldliness, I would've raised my own eyebrows. Talking to God! Pul-eeze. The person is nuts.
The joke's on me. I am now unemployable, because of my suspicious holy rolling loyalty to God. Such is life as His secretary, but no worries. God looks after me. My name is Linda, and I'm happily married to a man who is angry about this website and is convinced that I have gone nuts. He doesn't want to hear about God or any of this - but he'll get there. I worked with executives and engineers for years. I was supposed to be too logical to believe in stuff like miracles or God talking to people, but God gave me hard facts and tangible proof. He knew I'd never believe it otherwise. It's no wonder I was born on the feast day of St. Thomas.
I cannot (and will not) deny that this is real. God is clear about what we are doing right and what we are doing wrong. I hope that people everywhere, of different religions, nationalities, races, etc. realize this.
Thanks again for visiting the site and reading God's messages. Please contact me if you are so inclined. I will definitely respond - it might take me a while, but I will write back. I am not supplying a phone number at this time.
God bless you and yours.
Linda
As I began to publicize this website, like a wimp, I started with three priests and my mother. I extended it to a handful of family members and a few close friends - easy targets. Finally, I branched out. Revealing to others that God is talking to me wasn't exactly easy - it still isn't. There are "worldly" risks involved that need to be accepted.
Ironically, before September of 2012, if someone had told me God was sending them messages, I would've chalked it up to a case of batty holy roller-edness. I'd think, "That person needs to get on a few pills." And I'd slap a red flag on their name and sideline their job application. My colleagues and I would certainly have laughed in amused shock and re-told the story to other colleagues. "This person is absolutely crazy!" we'd say. "A real nut job! Look at this website!"
It's true. In my worldliness, I would've raised my own eyebrows. Talking to God! Pul-eeze. The person is nuts.
The joke's on me. I am now unemployable, because of my suspicious holy rolling loyalty to God. Such is life as His secretary, but no worries. God looks after me. My name is Linda, and I'm happily married to a man who is angry about this website and is convinced that I have gone nuts. He doesn't want to hear about God or any of this - but he'll get there. I worked with executives and engineers for years. I was supposed to be too logical to believe in stuff like miracles or God talking to people, but God gave me hard facts and tangible proof. He knew I'd never believe it otherwise. It's no wonder I was born on the feast day of St. Thomas.
I cannot (and will not) deny that this is real. God is clear about what we are doing right and what we are doing wrong. I hope that people everywhere, of different religions, nationalities, races, etc. realize this.
Thanks again for visiting the site and reading God's messages. Please contact me if you are so inclined. I will definitely respond - it might take me a while, but I will write back. I am not supplying a phone number at this time.
God bless you and yours.
Linda