my hopes and dreams of success are shattered because of a man. he has destroyed every fiber of my being. what good is it for me to follow my dreams if he will only end up destroying me in the end.

God if you hear me, I'm tired of hurting and living in fear. I'm at a breaking point and my world is shattered. Please give me a little relief. I can't push any longer.

Can you hear me?

I smile to hide the pain i feel inside wondering why I can't seem to find the love i deserve to have. I'm trapped by fear not able to escape the confounds of the prison I'm in. The life of my family and those closest to me threatened by the monster in my bed. I've tried to leave, tried to run and hide. my motherhood jeopardized by a man so out of control I fear he will soon take my life and my children will never know me. my eyed bruised by one strike to my temple. i have to hide the evidence by glasses and cant venture out and enjoy life. police dont care. they turn the other cheek. the abuse heightened by alcohol. I'm drained financially, emotionally and spiritually not comprehending why God would allow me to continue to be abused and used. my works go unappreciated. my heart taken advantage of. the dream of a good man shattered by the continuous flow of evil assholes that have crossed my path. this one is the worst one. he has attempted to choke the life out of me, beat me and threatened me. I've been held against my will and its worsening. i wanna get away. escape to an island far away where no one knows me, so noone can hurt me. beginning to fear the general public. My voice is unheard. my cries unanswered.

in search of Americas lowest 3 bedroom rent

my quest has begun in search of the nations lowest rent. yesterday we had to stop in blythe california. after travvelling for a few hours the tranny on my 99 lincoln continental overheated. we cooled off headed to the nearest exit where the associate at foster freezes chiriaco summit pretended to not speak english, tried to sell me a small empty cardboard bowl for a dollar and proceeded to bad mouth me in spanish not knowing I understand the language, just don't speak it well. so I told her in english that I understood everything she said and she looked dumbfounded and replied, okay, I'm sorry. how is that for customer service right!?
I thought my chihuahua went into labor last night. false alarm. maybe another few days. week tops.

the temperature this morning in Blythe at 7am is 90 degrees. its hot and dry. there is nothing around but truck stops and rattlesnakes. it looks cheap here, but because of it still being in California, I refuse to check out the pricing. My goal is to leave calaifornia and find a cheap place with good schools before my daughter begins kindergarten.

So up and attem folks. the hunt is on. after I take a dip in this lovely pool here at motel 6.

well I tried being consisten with my weight loss blogging and, as you can see, to no avail.
My journey lies beyond a choice of two doors. One door houses the familiar life I have grown accustomed to. One of sitting idly collect government payments of either SSI in the amount of 900 dollars a month and accepting that my illness has hindered me from following my dreams or continuing to survive off of welfare and food pantries and accepting that I am nothing but a wasted seed destined to have my family raise money by car washes should I meet my end of breath. There are no haters, no one asking me who do I think I am and no accusation of thinking I am better than anyone else. They are content with me depending on others as it has been what has been expected of me. There is no fear of failure, because there is no steps to succeed. Relationships are the norm for me when they are volatile and insecure. The encouragement I give unto others remains just a dream of me taking my own advice.
The other door is strange. Relocation is a must. I have to clean out the skeletons I have hidden deep beneath the crusted surface of my soul and bury them in a pitt of no return, which means I have to face my ownself and overcome the trials I have grown so used to running from. The door harbors success and greatness beyond its padlocks and bolts. Unlimited endless possibilities and opportunities await me and my creative imagination.
There are no financial troubles after entry. My past is but a mere echo in the hallway and my future lies ahead among every pebble that paves the road before me. TO enter I must shut out the naysayers and develop a belief in myself that had succombed due to the life traumas I have experienced.
The fear of failure blocks the doorway, therefore I must train and defeat it before I can even turn and unlock one lock on that door. The other key must be sought out among the world in which my imagination is welcome, and I must first continue to take the steps toward the holder of that key.
If I never speak. No one will ever hear. If I don't utilize my voice no one will listen. Thus I will be but mere whispering memory in the minds of those who wonder where I was or what ever became of my creative person.

I stand at the unknown door with fear and trembling about to take on waters I once feared to test. If I do not, I will never know what could have become of the mind that God has blessed me with and my life would be but a shallow meaningless life never to have served its purpose. I shake unctrollably as I turn the key, looking back and rethinking my decision. All I can hear is If I don't, I will never know.

Stay tuned for more as I journey into a rebirth and rebuilding of me.

My misconception of life

As a child, I had many ambitions. I was creative and talented in school. Always in academic competions and gifted classes. My second grade teacher called a conference with my dad after I wrote a conclusion to  favorite movie, The last Unicorn, as an assignment. She told my dad that I would be a famous author one day. The teachers loved reading my stories. I was marked for success early in life. In middle school I'd write a story in first period and by sixth period, my pre algebra teacher would read it aloud as the entire class sat in awe wanting to hear more. Seventh period marching band instructor would raise his eye at me when I entered the class, his way of letting me know he too had had the opportunity to bask in my creativity. Even in his clas, I never practiced, I'd memorize the songs before the period was over and be able to play them without hesitation. Naturally, when I ran away from home, the teachers gahtered together to dicuss what was going on in my little pre teen mind. When I returned to school, there was no punishment, just a requirement ot write from my creative genius of a mind. When my grades slipped, they'd call me in at lunch. there was no excuse, I was not living up to my potential. By the time I reached High School, my teachers had already indulged in my previous writings. They too left no room for failure. I was a sure success. One that would bring fame to the little desert hick town of Barstow Ca.
Then I moved away. I found that I could not write myself out of bad grades and ditching. I was held accountable for my actions. Yet some still passed me along because of my courtesy and smile.
By senior year I had written a booklet of poetry and short stories about my own life, in creative form. I was told to write more if I wanted to graduate, and I did, only to have them stolen by a swedish born teacher longer for publication herself. 6 months late, I received my diploma, but lost my muse.

I thought life was all about roses and knights in shining armor. I had longed dreamed of meeting an NBA player tall and thin, sexy, and romantic. One who would whisk me away from my dungeon I had been in and shower me with pink roses and expensive white wines. Life as an adult was sure to be easy. As long as I did not follow in the footsteps of those before me, I would be successful.
Then I woke up. I received divorce papers staing supervised visitation with the children I had spent so much time with. I was left with nothing, and daddy refused to help me. I had to swallow my pride and get on welfare when I had my daughter. Finding myself at 6 months  pregnant fighting for my life and the life of my unborn child, waking up before sunrise in an instrustrial shelter and walking in the hot california sun with nowhere to go and nothing to eat until 4pm when the shelter doors reopened. Her father busy galavanting about with various women and drugs, not concerned with our well being until the eighth month when I gave birth to her. The day I brought her home he beat me so badly that the right side of my face was swollen to resemble that of a possum. I had stooped so low in life that i had gotten ussed to not having anything and came to the realization that this is how my life was predestined to turn out. Everything I said NEVER to had came to pass and I was no longer living but surviving.
Its been 5 years almost since the birth of my daughter and I have grown accustomed to the convenience of the government paying for me to live. I no longer have to pay cash for food and when I run out I just travel to local food pantries and stock up on old expired foods that people no longer deem fit to eat them selves so they give them away to the poor and impovershed who can not afford to be choosy.
I've grown so comfortable in bad relationships as a way of life that hte possibility of rela love no longer exists in my brain. The NBA player I always wanted has been replaced by a lowlife controlling parttime working man who'd rather bark orders and lay in the bed while I, sick or not, catered to his every whim of a need.
Fear of the reality of failure no matter how hard I try or how badly I want it overcomes my need for change and success. I am stuck in a rutt of a life out of comfort and the convenience of knowing what to expect without thinking that I deserve so much more in life.
I spend my days encouraging others in hopes that one day I will hear my own words and encourage myself.

Then there is always someone who reminds me that I am no better than anyone else. I am just a person with a wasted life and should, at my age, accept the fact that life is no bed of pink roses and there is no white carriage prepared to take me away to fantasy land, So I should just be grateful that I still have life left in me.
Ha!

the evil wolf on the prowl

Today I can feel the presence of the evil wolf preying about on  my weakened body. I can feel it as it grabs at my head. Tightening its jaws around my very sanity.  feel t as it is attempting to suck the very breath from my fragile respiratory system. My kidneys are weakened by the force of the blow as it attempt to flare. I can hear the angry growl as it gnashes its teeth into my immune system removing the strength I have from within. Today I feel as though I can not contnue to fght this beast. Its clutches seem to overpower me. I am weary, and tired. I feel the pain shooting through my jaws, and my collarbone. the evidence of something wrong showing as sharp pangs overtake my back. Urine is replaced by blood. Fear replaces strength.

Then I am quetly reminded of my shepherd. He guards me day and night. He watches me. He sees my pain. He hears me cry. and He reminds me of the blood He shed for me. the stripes by which I am healed.
I am encouraged in knowing that no matter how I feel, this too shall pass and I will overcome this. For I have a shepherd who is more powerful than any cannus Lupus wolf.

I hold on to my faith.

this is not for the unbelievers!

 when we have a society airing the unacceptable acts of so called role models, and forcing ppl to agree with ways and lifestyles they don't agree with, yet shutting down christians who are fighting and standing for what they believe in, we have lost our principles of freedom. We are forced to accept homosexuality in schools because we are discriminating if we do not. Yet Christians are discriminated against when they are hushed and silenced. We are not living by the thought of All men are created equal. It should be allowed to pray, learn biblical history, and view the ten commandments in school.
If you want people to be okay with what other people do, than you be okay with it first.
Are you afraid of reality?
i'm just saying that it's not fair to shut us down. Let us speak. We need a new movement! one that will most likely end in martyrdom, but will live forever with our Lord.
One that is non violent, but loving as Christ himself loved us. one that says, Hey Christ died for us, I will speak for Him.
leadership today is too afraid of persecution and finacial fines to really speak out on what they claim to have so much faith in.
Remember, God, through Christ Himself, said if we are ashamed of Him on earth, He will deny us in Heaven. If we can not speak out for him in our home, why should we expect him to allow us into HIS.

get it toghether all you Bishops, Apostles, Prophets, Preachers, Evangelists, Ministers, etc.
You speak the word of God. Live it. You want followers, follow Christ as the disciples did, be the Modern day Pauls, and Johns and etc.
Can never win someone to Christ when you yourself don't really believe in the power He gave you.

I believe in the power.

okay. we got Lindsay Lohan back in court and Charlie Sheen making a scene. Wow what does this say about the people we call role models.

Lindsay, now she has an debatable case. She walks in to a jewelry store, chats with the clerk. Leaves with a smile with the clerk walking her out. Then she is accused of stealing a necklace during that visit. Sounds like a promotion plea to me. they allegedly sell the tape for 35 grand, and plan to auction off the item in question.
Sounds to me like the jewelry store just wants to make a buck off the visit. I mean if it were someone else who has not been in the public eye recently, would they be in court now? If it were someone like you or me stealing the chain, would we have gotten a friendly escort to the door? no. they are capitalizing on the fame and attention of this already trouble girl. Not fair.

As for charlie Sheen. this guy clearly has issues. He spends a weekend on a drugged binge, spends 30 seconds in rehab, has his kids removed from him, (which, in my opinion was evil on the mothers behalf, if she didn't want them there, she should not have let them go in the first place instead of making a public spectacle and putting the kids in the fire. now they have a video to see when they get older, "hey look, mommy had the police take us from daddy's house and the world saw it, what great parents we have!")
anyway, this guy is in need of some serious help. Spiritual help. Yes, I said it. Charlie is angry with the network when he placed himself in his own vomit by returning to the drugs in the first place. Charlie you had it made bro. 2 million and episode. I would be grateful just to be able to write a segment of an episode for a mere 50 grand, and here you are snorting away your opportunity for greatness. you are not winning, you are losing. you are making a spectacle of yourself. Don't get me wrong, I love ya, but you have some serious issues. You need some serious help. Come on Charlie, get it together, you are acting like something outta Hot Shots. Making yourself look like the 1/2 of two and a half men. (and yes, I am one of your multimillion followers)

Six weeks to a new me!

The next six weeks will focus on my daily attempt to lose weight and renew myself.
Today I weigh in at 208 lbs and my pant size is 16.
I have been told that I do not look like 208lbs and a size 16. My hips alone are 44 so thats probably where the problem is. I am 5ft 6 in tall. I am 68 lbs from my ideal weight of 140. I choose 140 because anything lower than that and I look like a sucked up individual striving for the approval of society. I would like to be no smaller than a 10.

today I walked 2 miles with my daughter. I drank 72 ounces of water and said no to the sodas.
I had a 3 inch ham and salami on white with onions, mustard, lettuce, and american cheese. I cheated a little with 2 cinnamon rolls. Tonight I will have more water, maybe some green tea and ceviche.
before bed I'll start off with 20 crunches and some cardio.

i'll let you know tomorrow how I feel, it's gonna hurt, but hey, I'm getting too outta shape and no pain no gain right.

Sleeping soundly dreaming of lily fields and bright skies running, playing with butterflies and ladybugs. rolling in fields of green. paradise skies of blue and air pure and crisp. fresh smells of springtime bloom and citrus burst. peace and tranquility.


darkness enters. thunder rolls, flames consume the fields. lilies to thorns, butterflies to locusts, ladybugs to spiders, black, brown fangs of red eyes of white.
black deadened trees swaying fiercely left to right. tossing me  to and fro.
lightning flashes lighting like a disco hall. passing from tree to tree. chanting. the smell of death burns the hairs in my nose. skin is melting flesh exposed.
each flash reveals a covering of snakes hungry waiting. serpants fill the air. shrieks of souls crying. gnashing, weeping. burning flesh. crackling. lava overflows.
placed on a bed of snakes in the night wrapped and consumed slimy scales against exposed flesh.
placed on an altar before the Dragon. head of a gator with six heads of snakes pertruding from the neck. eyes of blood, breath of fire. crown of skulls.


earthquake shakes, lava flows. light. rays of gold.
gnashing. hissing. bowing down.
thunder roars. lightning flash.


clear skies. crisp waters. life renewed.

Hate the fact that I cannot fall asleep easily. My body is exhausted yet without the easing of pain It will not rest. so I lie in my bed counting butterflies.

mayas butterfly A short story (fiction)

 My name is Maya. I'm a Journalist for 'Our Life Magazine' in a little town on the Mojave desert, Barstow.
This is the story of my mother.

Mama was always a sickly child. Doctors could never figure out what was wrong with her. She was an athlete. Had dreams of becoming an olympic gold medalist one day. She started running track at a young age. She ran for the community at first. Always winning medals, ribbons, trophies. She was a star in the making. College Scouts began looking at her in Junior High as she began setting records across the county.

While running a meet in the 8th grade she collapsed before the finish line. She was rushed to the Hospital where doctors performed a variety of tests and admitted her. They called my grandparents to the side one day and explained to them that mama had an autoimmune disease called Systemic Lupus Erythematosus or Simply SLE Lupus. At the time little was known about the disease except the fact that there was no cure.

Grandpa was a big time Preacher on the Desert and rebuked the doctors. He  checked my mom out and took her to Mother Agnes house where the mothers of the church and the prayer warriors were gathered with oil waiting for mama. They prayed for hours. Rebuking, casting out the illness, and prophesying over her life. The redness in her cheeks faded and her normal color returned. They began to shout and give praise to God. my mother was ordered to never again speak of Lupus again lest she speak it back into existence.

Fast forward 10 years. Mama had received a full  track scholarship to Texas Christian University.
She quickly became a national phenom setting records in all of her events. She met my dad senior year. 
He was a an all american quarterback and the two fell fast in love. Then daddy got injured, mom continued to run and was even approached by the US olympic team coach and began training with the US team after graduation. Then I came along. Mom put her career on hold. Dad became a local High School Coach.

When I was 4, daddy was killed in a single car rollover coming home from a game one night. Shortly after that my Grandparents were shot and killed in a home invasion robbery while on a prayer visit for a family member of one of the elders of the church. The stress took a toll on mama and she began to eat less. We decided to return to California and move into the house she grew up in. Mom got a job coaching the track team at her old high school and things started looking up again.

Fast forward a few more years. Uncle Mike was now the pastor of grandpas old church. He wanted mom to take a bigger role in the ministry and she decide that it would be what grandpa wanted and became praise and worship director. During a festival in LA she collapsed on stage and was rushed to the Hospital. Ehen the doctors asked if she had any illness, she started to say no before uncle Mike interrupted. He told the doctors of her lupus and they quickly referred her to a local doctor who could take care of her illness. She started her daily regimen and soon after gained a lot of weight.

After 3 years of treatments she went into remission. But by now she was not the same mentally or physically.
She became bitter. Even in remission she felt pain daily. Every little thing irritated her and she refused to allow people to get close to her.

Then she met Christian. She hadn't dated since daddy died. He fell in love with her and asked her to marry him. She said no. He continued for years asking her and each time she said no. How could He really love her in her condition. By this time she was depressed and had lost all self esteem.

At 16 Christian was still pursuing mama. By now she was so sick she could no longer work and she refused to take her meds saying they made her worse. She was in love with Christian but denied it because she didn't want to hurt him. She was on disability and thought he just wanted to use her. So she tried her best to push him away but he never left.

On Valentines Day he brought her a big basket of flowers and butterfly ornaments to her hospital bed. She cried. He remembered she loved butterflies and ironically it was the symbol of lupus. He told her he loved her regardless of her condition and she finally admitted her feelings to him. They married.

Mother spent the next two years at home bed ridden. Christian stayed by her side. He always managed to make her smile and he filled her room with butterflies. She improved for about 6 months and her kidneys failed. By now she had hope and began doing things to fight the disease. She told me to continue fighting if she lost the battle.

Here I am today at 24. Standing at her gravesite consuling Christian as he kneels at her headstone. It is 2 days after Christmas and snow has fallen on the desert. He places a pink rose on her grave and stands up. At that moment a single Monarch Butterfly flickers by  and we are comforted. 35 years after her first diagnosis, mother passed away from complications from lupus. She was 47.
As I promised her, I continue to fight and raise awareness. More is known now than when she was first diagnosed, but there is still a lot to learn.

The Garden

I planted a garden. cucumbers here, green beans there. couple rows of watermelon, some peppers, tomatoes, and some corn. I watered my garden everyday. soon I saw some greenery sprout up. yay! a few days later as I was walking in the yard, I saw some plants that looked just like my garden. ugh! weeds! so I walked over to my 'baby' and started plucking. soon after, it began to sprout again. CORN! YAY! no weeds this time but the corn was sure growing fast. up came the green beans. next came the melons and 1 each pepper and tomato. everyday for a week I was able to pluck 2 single string beans from my garden. not enough to make a meal. soon they withered away. summer heat. I saw the corn was ripe for harvest and plucked em off. good eatin, right? uh...no. each ear was only half full of kernel. they too withered away. summer heat! someone drug a hose across my pepper and it broke. :(. I noticed a yellow bloom on my tomato. Alright! but I wanted watermelon. they branched out, yet did not produce fruit. they too, withered away. still no cucumbers. summer heat! I continued to water my tomato plant which had grown to be a rather big vine. no one understood why I kept watering a plant that would soon wither and die. but I saw a lil more everyday. green then red. and ready for pickin. on the day o harvest I was excited! I plucked my tomato and looked at it. small and scarred but red as can be.I was so proud of that tomato. the others flourished until it began to get hot. then they dried up. but through all the heat, that tomato grew. when I plucked that tomato and showed it off ppl looked at me like I was crazy. rejoicing over a tiny scarred tomato.. See, when I saw the tomato, God showed me that I was that tomato. When others around me could not withstand the heat, they quit. The cucumbers never grew, green beans weren't fruitful enough, corn incomplete, melons unfruitful, and peppers destroyed. but that tomato was determined to make it. no matter how hot it was. scarred and all.

God give me strength to move the mountains that stand in my way. Give me strength to break the chains that bind me, keeping me from moving each day. Give me peace in the valley as I walk through the rain, give me joy everlasting and love that won't change.

To Whom It May Concern

Have u ever wondered how u can help someone else when u have gotten to a place where u can barely help yourself?

I have been there plenty times. God always brings someone my way when I feel I can't go further.
I have been so depressed and down on myself about my lack of a career, my absence from my sons life, and raising my daughter on welfare. I have even been so discouraged about my illness, yes, I get discouraged for a moment, that I lost my self worth.
Each time someone came my way who was in the same situation. I felt for that person and began to encourage them.
By the time I finished with them, I felt better about myself. Suddenly my problems seemed to shrink. My own words repeated through my mind and I began to try to live what I had been telling. At the same time I was ministering to them, God was speaking to me. HE was letting me know that I was not alone.

If you are reading this, its not my chance. I was hesitant to even begin this blog. But it pulled at me.
Even to the point where I could not sleep. I can sense the need of someone out there struggling with illness, abuse, depression, or some other stronghold that someone needs to be healed from.
I'm not perfect by far, but each night as I lie in my bed I see the faces of women who are hurting in someway. They are of many races, ages, sizes, and locales. They are crying. Pleading, Praying, Seeking, and Listening. Patiently waiting for Someone to answer.
There is one who sits in a chair knitting. She wears glasses at times. She is constantly in pain. Even contemplating suicide at times. She is very creative, yet insecure.  At times she is so down on herself she can't even rise from bed.
Somewhere in her life, she has been hurt. And recovery is taking what seems to be a lifetime. She does not she who she used to see in the mirror, instead sees a stranger. She has prayed. Asking God if He even hears her. HE does. He sees her crying, and He stops her from taking the life He gave her. She has her doubts, but ahe also has a small amount of FAITH, enough to ask, wait and listen patiently for a response. Well Carry on and continue climbing the mountain. Do not Go around the Mountain, Climb it. The journey will strengthen you. When you get to the top, Shout out and tell the World you are there. then stand and gaze out among the territory below that you have been blessed with. Never again will you be in the Valley, You will reign from the Mountain top.


Another sits at a desk. She is concerned with others more than herself and her kindness has been taken advantage of. She is busy. Growing tired and ready to cash out. She and her household are likened to a valley that has been torched, not by nature but by arson. Set ablaze by the jealousy of another who can not stand to see the beauty in her and the life she has brought forth. After the fire has burned out and the rain has fallen, new life springs forth. You just have to wait for it to sprout. That takes time. The Sycamore did not take a day to grow. Patience through all the adversity will bring much success. The fire has burned much, but you survived. If you give up and walk out of the meadow you will miss the flowers when they bloom. It is yours. Your mustard seed faith earned it.

I'm not perfect by far. I have my faults, but I know when I hear the Voice of God speak to me. Obedience is better than Sacrifice, and everytime I heed to what I hear, a little part of me grows. I am growing stronger both spiritually and physically because of my faith.

If you read this and you write, continue to write. Write even when it makes no sense to you. It will make sense to someone else.

If you are sick, continue to believe.

Crawlspace

It started with a gas leak. The Querin family had purchased a home on W. 18th st. It was an old tudor home built in 1919. Sandra Querin, the niece of Edwin Querin, smelled gas coming from the back yard. the gas company was called out to investigate aand notice a leak in the mainline. Service was cutoff and a plumber was called.
Andrew Daniels was a deacon for Mr. Querins church. He was also the  church plumber. He donned his coveralls and went below the home. HE quickly resurfaced. .His face pale and his eyes as if he had seen a ghost.

"There are bones under there" he said. Andy was always a prankster. Never serious about anything. So naturally no one believed him. Sandra grew curious. She was a forensic anthropology student at the University and this caught her attention.
"I'll go check" she said as the family gathered outside. "but you're coming with me," she ordered andrew.

She grabbed the lantern and flashlight and crawled beneath. "Vietnam Style," Andrew joked.
"just hush and shine the light you big sissy," she replied.
She Crawled in about 5 feet and began to feel an eerie presence. " This is creepy" She said to him as they crawled further.
"can you see them" He asked. At that moment she noticed a collection of what appeared to be bones piled beneath the main sewage pipe. "yeah, I see something," she inched closer.
Suddenly out of nowhere a young girl appeared. She was dressed in a white gown and had blond hair. Her eyes were white as snow.She stared her in the eyes and quickly retreated. "I've seen enough" she said as she scooted hurriedly out from beneath the house." Call police, there are definately human bones beneath this home." She told her Uncle as She approached the door.

Running From Purpose (Strange Calling)

I have been in church my whole life. My grandmother started us off in the AME church. We were eager to go every sunday we spent during the Summers in Perris. At home in Barstow God sent the McConnells, Bro Bill and Sister Gertie to take the neighborhood kids to Trinity Baptist. We were always part of the programs they had there. Thats where I began to love church. I've attended apostolic, pentacostal, baptist, ame, non-denominational, 7th day adventist, etc. I found my love in Deliverance.

When I was a child I heard a knock on the back door. When I opened the door I saw a man dressed in a white gown. His skin was olive, his hair thick shiny brown, his eyes like amber. His voice calming like ocean waves against the sand. He said to me, "Come walk with me my child. I will take you through your life." I walked around the backyard with Him. He showed me my life. My troubles, my pain, my struggles. All the while holding my tiny hand. He said my life would not be easy, and I would see and experience things I would not understand at first but to hold on to His hand and I would make it through. He told me I was special in His Kingdom and would do great things. Then He walked me back to the door. He said,"because you heard me knock and opened the door, I will be with you all the days of your life. You are my child and I love you." I said bye to Him and my dad asked me who I was taking too. "JESUS, daddy." I replied. "There is no one there," he said.
I was 2 years old.

Fast forward. Here I am older and beginning to see and hear things. I see figures. Transparent figures. I feel their presence. I hear them when they speak. Some evil. Some good.
I've seen Angels and Demons battling in the Spirit Realm. I've heard the cries of souls crying out from the EARTH and seen them reaching their hands from beneath the surface. Clouds are no longer clouds to me. They are secret messages, images depicting battle, victory, comfort. Like the hand of the Lord. His army preparing for battle. Things others would not see.

I've heard a whisper in my ear when I feel the presence of darkness around me. Names. So I rebuke them. Many ppl would consider me to be crazy. I am perfectly sane. I asked the Lord to show me the world as He sees it, and I began to see in the Spirit. I can sense evil in someone and recognize the direct source.

I chose to run. What I began to see, frightened me. I worried about what other people said about me. The more I ran the more I began to see. I began to lose my breath at night. To feel as if I were burning during the day.

I chose to return and answer my calling. Realizing I had been chosen for a purpose and given a gift others do  not understand. I remember the Lord saying that if we are ashamed of Him, He will be ashamed of us. If we deny Him here, He will deny us in Heaven.

We are running short on time. In a world where we are accepting actions that are immoral. We use the symbol of promise as a symbol of immorality. We Hate more than we Love. We do not recognize the source of sin and remove it. We pray without Faith. We do not believe in the power of God, but rather believe in the power of  Man. Man has no power but that which is given him by God Himself. Do not Hate them that sin, Rather pray for them. We all sin. Sin is sin. Recognize the source and remove it. Love. You are commanded to do so.

We are coming to a point where we will no  longer be able to speak out. Many will be lost because of blindess, fear and disbelief.

Believe in the Power of God. Believe in His works. Trust Him. We wrestle not against flesh and blood...... Believe that.

I know I will be persecuted for writing this. I don not care. No one on this Earth Created me. No one on this Earth will Judge me in the end. I prefer to make my Lord happy, rather than gain the Aproval of MAN!