I’m still working on controlling my heart-attack symptoms. I have supraventricular tachycardia aka a short circuit in the heart. As a result, when I receive shocking news, I can suddenly have all the symptoms of a heart attack, especially when I didn’t know what was happening and actually thought I was having a heart attack, way back when, a week after the court took my baby from me. I thought God was answering my prayer to let me die.
Well, I’m now well versed on how to stop the symptoms quickly and telling you about it is one way to settle myself down. So let’s get back to my latest sign from God.
Yesterday was a life-changing event for me. For the very last time I handed in a piece of online transcription work to my boss all the way over in North Carolina and permanently retired from chasing the Almighty Buck forever and ever, at least in this life time. I currently reside in limbo, the bardo, whatever your persuasion views it as, and here I remain for the next ten days until Social Security switches me from my scraggly housewife’s retirement fund to my ex-husband’s Social Security account.
Phred always was a good provider.
And now, he still is!
Thank you, Phred.
I will never get over the fact that he ditched me for corporate America, but that’s the way it goes in the Age of Mammon. He actually thinks I ditched him, but it’s all a matter of perspective. Those who worship at the Temple of Mammon are easy pickings for Baphomet, and that’s how some folks foolishly sell their soul to the company store, making the corporate master first and family second. All too often God was never in the picture to begin with. But, crying over spilt milk accomplishes nothing, so let’s get back to the sign I received from God.
July 15, 2017 was the very last day I worked doing something that was not important to me just to get a paycheck. It was truly a doodily squat part-time income so small it barely covered car insurance and phone, while Social Security covered the rent. But I wanted it that way because my primary concern at this point in life is to enjoy retirement as much as possible. So as long as my most fundamental bills were paid, nothing else really mattered. It’s easy to clean a very small house with barely anything in it.
And then, on July 15, 2017, for the very first time
one of my articles
took off like a rocket with viewers!
And it was not much more than providing folks with a form letter constructed in accordance with DOJ online requirements that properly files a criminal complaint with the FBI and DOJ simultaneously to investigate an in-your-face act of sedition, not once but twice, by a federal district judge. No one is above the law, not even a judge.
The suddenly skyrocketing number of viewers on Word Press coupled on that same day with quitting “working” forever was a clear sign to me from God that it is time for me to commence my Life’s Work, which I knew about since I was eight-years-old, after I found a wedding picture in the attic at 74 Catherine Street, Springfield, Massachusetts. Here’s a recent picture of my childhood home via Google Earth:
Yep, I was on my knees digging through a box of stuff right in front of that attic window. The framed photo was from the 1930’s that had a svelte Jean Harlow type blonde in a clinging satin wedding gown running out of a church holding the hand of very handsome man in a tuxedo who looked exactly like Daddy, but he had a full head of hair! The woman was not my mother.
Don’t ask me what the connection is. I simply knew at that moment, after having just finished reading Little Women, that I wanted to be just like Josephine in the story. I wanted to be a writer. Most interesting of all, I also knew from that moment that I must live the full and rich course of my very diverse life before I would have all that I needed to tell. I must journey from maiden to mother and eventually to crone before I would have sufficient wisdom to say all that I knew I would say some day. I can still feel the warmth of the midday sun shining on me through the glass, kind of like God putting his arm around me as he shared my joy.
And so here I am, most generously supported once again by my ex-husband, my daughter’s father, the man who everyone must admit is an excellent provider. I sent him an ecard on his birthday on July 3, when he finally turned 62 (the only downside to a younger husband), thanking him for supporting me again and letting him know I will keep him posted when he buys particularly nice things for me. But the spoil sport deleted it without reading it. So here’s your opportunity to let him know what a wonderful thing he is doing, just in case you happen to know him personally.
And here I am in the most enjoyable circumstances of my life on the Island of God, completely free to devote myself to my writing.
Yesterday, the Lord said unto me,
IT IS TIME.
What I imagined that day in the attic when I was eight-years old is now unfolding in present time. Praise be to God for I am a child of God and I am made in his image. And Jesus said to us, his brothers and sisters in Christ, you can do even greater things than me. Yes, Lord, I believe I can.
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