lauriethinks

15 Dec 2011 Leave a Comment

by lauriethinks in Uncategorized

Wandering through the forest grey on a murky slurpee night,

Slogging, sliding, in the dark, praying my feet would leave no mark.

I knew not where I was but for one sweet star that shone,

In the Northern sky above, but for that alone- I would be lost in winter stark.

Moving as my last night passed, my mind was numbed by white of snow,

My thoughts against my will moved darkly to the reason I felt forced to go.

Every thing was fine and good, in honor (so I thought) I stood,

Salutes came constantly my way,

Medals on my chest did lay,

Never did I have a thought that evil rides in pride.

Proud I was to be the one who was chosen; called aside,

Officer, chosen elite was I, to carry out new mission wide,

Elegant, graceful was my step as I entered marble room.

To face my leader, yet did I know that his request would spell my doom.

His command: Set system up to remove all  believers from the land.

Propagandize, make them seem fools, then pick them up in iron hand.

False tree of hope inside my chest lost all its leaves and died,

For I was what they thought was not what anyone should be inside.

I stood there and could not hear the rest for the way my chest did heave,

I could only think that what I was I could no longer be.

O woe is me! Alas! I cried inside as I did slink away, for I knew that there would be no escape from the order of this day-

No  room for pity in their hearts was ever found, I knew;  hesitate they never would to purge their ranks of one not true.

So to my rooms with stoic face set to hide my growing grief,  last salute I took that night  from my faithful underling.

Later on  I sneaked outside, a coward’s knapsack on my back; ran straight away from moral fight I dived, unknowing into the night.

For all I could think of then and there was I did not want to die.  I knew with sudden terror I had been serving evil men; the temple I had built to house my life and dreams came crashing down  within.

So that is how I came to be running through dark misty night, without a light, directionless, beside the single burning star.

I sat down to rest and breathe, and  staring at the star I grieved, and then remembered through my fear that this indeed was Christmas Eve.

The Star!  The Star!  I gathered up the memory of my fainting faith. 

I swear I saw Star wink at me as its rays shone down upon my chest.

I remembered Heaven’s Light who in a manger laid to rest.

The starlight carried in its rays the memory of the Savior’s days,

The bloody pavement that Roman flail created as it fell.

I got up just to fall again upon my face right then and there;

Praying underneath bare trees, snow-laden branches o’er my head

I laid my heart’s worst fears down at the bleeding feet of One who did

not flee till all His work was done. 

He did not shirk from loathsome task, nor did He live in terror till,  but neither did He leave it dead.

I slowly put my backpack on and then backtracked back through path I’d made

And came back to my soft bed and for first time in many a night,a peaceful head I laid.

The next day I went back unbidden; tears unhidden ,

And told the one why I could never bring my heart to carry out the task.

He looked at me with stone cold heart; mine warmed by starlight did not  flinch,

I did not care what he did say, I knew I could not give an inch.

I faced the rough and stony wall, the cold sunshine fell down on all, and the brightest star in heaven did shine,

I just caught a glimpse of brightness as I fell.

~Laurie

Apparition

03 Dec 2011 Leave a Comment

by lauriethinks in Uncategorized

It was just another day shopping at Walmart.  Well, maybe it was a bit different because Tom and I happened to have invited sixteen people for dinner that evening- the night before Thanksgiving Day.  All our children, their children, the in-laws- you know how it is.  I was feeling pressure.  And to top it all off- Tom accompanied me on this shopping trip for which I really had no time.

Tom likes to shop differently than me- taking the time to unhurriedly examine the cost/per unit of each item we buy.  It easily quadruples the time we end up spending in the store.  Besides driving me crazy and irritating to withing an inch of sanity- it results in a lot of arguing.  I cannot tell him why I want the name brand tomato sauce- or why I like the real frosted flakes instead of the fake ones in the bag.  There is just no accounting for taste.  So we compromise on some things and buy the name brands on some and get more of this and I give in by getting less of that.  I get my bath towels and put back the make-up, so Tom doesn’t break out in hives.  (I mention we need to start Christmas shopping and hives pop out on his neck.)  Anyway- I have on this particular shopping trip, being under pressure as I am, had enough of it.  I try to shop on different aisles, but to no avail.  Tom always finds me quickly- as he wants to question everything I pick up.  I finally crack.  I pick up a box of cereal (yes frosted flakes) and I flakily and stupidly throw it at him.  Well- I actually just throw it down when he suggests that he is better at buying cereal.

It is then that it happens.  Immediately after I throw the box, a young man passes me on my left (where the cereal is ) in the aisle.  He smiles, says “Hello Laurie Grammer” and proceeds on.  I take a few seconds to wonder who in the world this young man is (since even my best friends call me Lori and not the proper Laurie) and then turn around to talk to him.  HE WASN’T THERE.  There is no way he could have reached the end of the aisle in that amount of time, but I go down and look around the corner and all the near aisles anyway.  The young man is no where to be found.  By now I am freaking out.  A strange young man just made me feel guilty about throwing a cereal box just by using my real Christian name.  Tom is standing close by and sees no one.  OK- this is just weird.

It is not the first time.  I was driving one time when I was eighteen, just having got my license, and I was driving where I shouldn’t have been.  I was looking for a party I was not supposed to go to.  Driving in a dark wooded area and already nervous, I began to wonder if I should think about turning back.  The problem was, though, that the road was very narrow.  Very.  Too narrow for two cars to pass each other.  I wonder now if I am actually in someone’s driveway (there are lots of large estates in the area) and I start to think about what I would do if another care came at me and wanted to pass by.  There were trees right up to the road and absolutely no room.  Someone would have to back up.  I was thinking about this scenario and driving out onto a wooden bridge when I saw headlights approaching me. (Did I mention it was dark?)  The bridge was barely big enough for my car, much less another as well.  The problem?  The car approaching was APPROACHING ME AT A VERY HIGH RATE OF SPEED.  There is no way I could stop or turn around in time.  The last thing I saw was the other car enter onto the bridge facing me.  I could not do anything to avoid a collision so I just closed my eyes, prayed, and waited for the big  bang.  Nothing happened.  I opened my eyes and saw the taillights of the car BEHIND me.  There was no way the car could have possibly passed me on either side.  As I said before- my car almost touched the rails of the bridge on both sides.  The only thing that possibly could have happened is the car went straight through mine.  A ghost car-I guess.

These are not the only apparitions I have seen (drug-free, mind you), but two of the most readily to come to my mind.  I have decided that if my bad behavior is going to be rewarded with ghostly presences, I will have to adjust my actions.  I don’t want to see any more apparitions.  It is upsetting to my gastric routine.

~Laurie

ONE APPLE IN A BUNCH- NOT A PART OF THE BUNCH

25 Oct 2011 Leave a Comment

by lauriethinks in Uncategorized

Jean, loving now Jerusalem as a small child squeals with delight at the sight of a multicolored fairground newly introduced, viewed  teaching these small Palestinian orphans in an old stone building in the Armenian Quarter of the old city as her soul’s purpose settled.  She could not know in her youth the travels the soul must almost always take from purpose to purpose, glory to glory in the service of Divine Providence.  Thankfully- God does not show us the whole road when we are young- if we did we might (probably would choose not)  to walk it.  We would look for any easier and golden storied Appian Way promising to hand out candied apples and kisses from well-dressed and nice looking people who station themselves along the flowered and manicured path created for mankind’s enjoyment, not for the Via Dela Rosa  calling only for submission to complete personal pain and sacrifice.  But suffering alone becomes the usual staircase we painfully climb in order to know the One who cares about humanity more than He cares about Himself. To really know God;s purpose in this world, and in turn to be able to understand His desires for His chosen people- Abraham’s descendents in the Middle East-, one really must understand in some personal context suffering. To hurt and to endure almost unbearable pain in oneself or others,  is to participate in Divine life, for Divine life is a life of sacrifice for others.  Without experiencing His life of suffering- it is almost impossible to understand the Divine point of view of this world.

We must stop here and analyze for a moment what is meant by the “Divine point of view of this world”.  It harkens back not to an old spyglass rescued from a dark sunken ship somewhere in the Carribbean, scratched, dim, hazy, and buried in sand with millions of yet to be recovered golden doubloons;  but rather should bring to mind the  radiation reflected in the clear perfection of a million Hubble mirrors made without flaw all turned toward the sun’s light at once.  We see the chaos sometimes in the world and assume that God is Himself chaotic, that He forgets from generation to generation what His plans are, what He wants to do, but that is assuming the Divine adopts the worst of humanity’s flaw.  His purposes and plans never move, never rattle, certainly never fail, and never fade.  Whatever chaos existed in the beginning, that swollen deep with all its unlocked secrets which curled and popped and spat as the world was being created, still exists in the untried human heart today, God’s plan is to bring order to it- beauty to it- song and inexpressible joy to it.  Therefore it must be tried.  Sufferers all over who are submitted to their true King will tell you the way being trod under the devil’s feet for times and being attacked by him over and over again lead one into understanding unreachable by any other means.  In any case, knowing God had given her something specific to do brought a level of immeasurable peace to Jean’s  soul.  With no qualms about explaining her habit and her Catholicism to the children in her care,  she listened to and respected their Muslim story as well.  She pleaded in prayer; however, for their realization that Jesus was the only open door to the God of Abraham.  This truth, exhibited as a painful thorn in the eye to every child of  Ishmael, in addition to being a stinging adder (even if true) to ALL the remnants of all the nations of ancient Palestine;  was truth.  Jesus IS a Jew.

Friendly talks with the Armenian priests along with a rich prayer life AND just being inside the walls of the famed Ancient City of Faith, smeared to every millimeter with both the blood and the hope of centuries, led to a soulful contemplation in the young woman’s heart which grew each day.  Each time she saw a burka-laden woman walking down the street holding the hand of a child, each time Jean witnessed the tearful Davening prayers at the Wailing Wall- with the tall and proud Israeli flag standing beside its sacred past- each time she witnessed the long lines the Palestinian residents must wait in every day to move from work to home or just to visit relatives in a land given them by their ancient fathers, the young nun became older- and wiser.  Yeshua, the expression of God, moves in amazing ways to bring real wisdom to those who are submitted to Him, and sends a person inside each soul dedicated to His Lordship a teacher whose ways the world knows not nor will ever catch up to or understand- though they struggle intellectually ab infinitum at the attempt. But alas, most regale on topics they have not the divine resources to discuss. In any case, the Holy Spirit was leading a young woman with no education to speak of (other than the education a tender and soft heart with love for Jesus and the world  brings to one) to a place of prowess in understanding she neither ever expected nor hoped for.  This understanding was to change not only her direction (for her purpose, unbeknownst to her, had not yet been presented to her child-heart) but the world where she found herself placed through no choice of her own except the choice of submission to love.

We must spend yet more time on an initial premise if ever the reader is to begin to understand the super-volcanic cauldron which has become the Middle East. Jean came to realize a very important truth in Jerusalem during these days; acknowledging the Lordship of a Jewish Messiah ultimately for all people means bowing one’s head to a Jew.  That is more than the centuries of pain of much of the Arab world, and not just the Arab world world at large, can get its mind around or even contemplate as a possibility. There are, she began to understand, many reasons for this gap in understanding between people who should be rejoicing in familial tribal celebration, learning to come together around sameness instead of focusing on an ancient list of  scarring wounds.  But alas, there is that always that stealth albino leopard stalking  every heart’s truth, the inability to forgive by oneself that keeps the scars from closing and fading.  Centuries of propaganda of  Anti-Semitism and a fatal misunderstanding of God’s never wavering purpose for HIS world  she came to see as the hurdle every Jesus-freed  heart faces as it attempts to show the true character of God to a  lost and suffering planet. There are many reasons, she knew, people try to explain why the Earth is sliding into an abyss of chaotic distress.

There are those who worship false gods who still hope for rescue from paganism, from their dead ancestors, from the religions of the past which have never saved before but still give comfort to those who long for past ways.  There are those who are worshiping the planet itself- finding in nature, they believe, the place where they believe the human race went wrong.  There are those who point to the endless list of cruel genocides, empires, colonial and slavery systems, and think the answer to humanity’s failures is for humanity to somehow redeem itself through distancing itself from these terrible moral scars, but at the same time hanging on to the same blind door of the intellectualism which created all  those atrocities to begin with.  This group tends to see Christianity as an time ravaged impediment to those humanistic and intellectual solutions to the eternal questions it strives to answer, and so atheism rises as not a lack of faith- but indeed, as an alternative religion.   People who see Christian arrogance instead of the truth of the Cosmos, invariably bring up the crusades; tragic wars occurring during a time when the “Christian world” , ignoring Gods orders to the Jewish Kings of ancient times, (for He put priests of Aaron over the religious workings of the Jewish nation and Moses over the civil workings) allowed government to preopt the sovereignty of Christ’s Church- the two mixing to the world’s peril, not to mention the disgracing of each side forever.  This led to growth of Anti-Semitism in a Church which was born through the sacrifice of a Jewish Messiah, a break, the entire world  spurning the Jews at one time and to one extent or another, treated them as inhuman, and while they were at it (though sometimes as in the case of the ancient Assyrians and Babylonians, they actually became God’s instruments) the Church did the same to the ancient races and nations of Palestine.  Christianity, when understood in its ancient context- is the absolute goodness in the world, not the instigators of past sins.  The past sins happened, yes, under Christian governments- but that is just it, is it not, that governments and Christianity were never on the same page or wavelength of purpose.  True Christianity wants the best for every man woman and child both on the Earth and after the Earth is destroyed.  It cares not about sacred territory- other than to honor its power of symbolism.   True Christian faith wants to correct slavery, wants to wipe out oppression (think Saddam Hussein) and wants people to have as much freedom in their personal lives as possible- for that is God’s purpose and dream.  Christianity does not want bricks baked in a humanistic thinking kiln, all lined up looking the same, stacked in rows to build humanity’s tower to the skies.  The tower of Babel of ancient times, you will remember, was put up to keep the “people” the “nations” from scattering.  A one-world- one-size-fits- all  government.  What from a human standpoint would have been a more secure delivery system for peace for the generations?  Why did God reject this model?  Here are the reasons;

• God has always rejected in no-uncertain terms the model of the one-world government.  He always warned His people away from entering into alliances with peoples who did not worship Him, but instead owed allegiance elsewhere.
• God does not want servants molded in the brick furnaces by humanistic ideas and theology about God, He rather appoints those who worship Him to sacrifice on altars of rocks untouched by nothing but the powerful molding of the extreme power and heat of the center of Earth’s chaotic pressures.
• God has always rejected looking at people as all the same.  While he does not favor one person above another (there is no favoritism in God), God created every person differently.  “Behold”, He says, “I have knit you together in your mother’s womb” Not recognizing and celebrating these differences go against God’s plans for His world.
• Humans cannot “transform” God’s world.  I think of the French Revolution which ended in bloody guillotining because God’s directions for transformation were not followed.  If one wants to transform the world for the better, which means bringing it more and more in line with the Creator’s plans, one must understand God’s purposes and timings.  One  must first transform oneself into what the Divine nature wants one to be- loving, joyful (when is the last time you saw a joyful protestor?), peaceful, (which means to bring wholeness in every way possible), full of patience (willing to wait a lifetime or more if God requires it- remember the Jews were in slavery 400 years before they were rescued.), full of kindness (hand me a cup of tea please), gentleness (whew!, this one is hard to touch!) and self-control.

Where does this leave us?  Where did they leave Jean as the Spirit led her on a walk through the flowers planted around the perfect plans of God for humanity?  Well, to sum up, every solution even Christian humanistic thought comes up with to solve the world’s problems is destined to fail and sometimes will hurt people, in their hundreds, thousands, millions, tens of millions.  We cannot “create” a thinking person molded by human intellectual plan to think a certain way.  God creates every person to be absolutely unique, and to be submissive to Him and His honor and purposes, His glory, not to purposely put oneself under the control of government or anyone else unless the Divine Spirit calls you to a period in a particular place.  HUMANITY CAN NEVER TRANSFORM ANYTHING IN THIS WORLD.  If humanity could have transformed itself, than then one could not find a reason if one searched from the highest heavens to the depths of the lowest hells for a God who is the Author of Life, a God who creates and knows “the beginning from the end, the Alpha and the Omega”, to give His only son to die.  Why die for the deliverance of humans who have the potential to figure it all out itself, if they only get together enough or only think hard enough, or get brave enough, or get wise and educated enough, or submit to elites enough!…………….

When one becomes truly wise, they realize to the depth of their souls  human and world hopelessness becomes infinite without God, universally unresolvable by the human race at large, and if examined- becomes  the metaphorical Bernini sculpture which  illustrates to perfection the world’s its horror of its own fallen state.  The hostile separation between the promised (and fulfilled)  nationhood of the descendents of the two children of Abraham happens to be the perfect illustration of the brokenness of all people in this world.  Allah’s way offers no restoration.  Neither does Judiasm, other than through the one Jewish man who understood God AND people, Jesus of Nazareth.

Laurie

Armenian Orphanage

18 Oct 2011 Leave a Comment

by lauriethinks in Uncategorized

Father Rias, falling onto the couch rather than sitting, found himself both exhausted and relieved.  Mother Anna stiffly floated in with a tray of tea and toast, set it down not so gently on the low round table in front of him and grunted “Your tea, Father.”  “Thank you Madre”, he replied, giving her a look that obviously longed to stir the heart of his visitor to a more congenial attitude.  It had no effect.  The only thing heard in the room next was a quick swishing the Mother’s stiffly starched dark skirts as she glided out of the room as one would expect a ghostly haunting to float away.  Rias sighed.  He knew that his efforts to bring the abbey into the life of the community around them were not popular.  These were people who had joined the convent, he knew, to escape the world, not jump into the muddiest of human conditions.  The abbey, situated on a remote Jordanian hillside, was nevertheless surrounded by country dotted with many poor villages, villages needing medicines, love, caring, food, protection at times, and the Blessed Savior.  He was determined this abbey would represent service, not silent reverence; sacrifice on the part of its own inhabitants, not a place to foster the pride of one’s own austerity and separation from the needs of the world.  He sighed again.  He loved the nuns there, and there hearts for Christ and the Blessed Mother, but could not share their obvious desire to make the abbey a fortress to block out the world outside.  Those times, he knew, were gone.  This was a time for the church to reach out- not kneel in lonely stiff meditation and even stiffer worship.  No.  He could not be part of going that way.  They would have to follow, or he would be reassigned.  “Christ will decide our path”, he muttered.

He did express though, then and there, on his knees, that Jean had escaped.  He prayed for her to be safely delivered into Israel- her call, her destination (he knew this- though Jean did not) and thanked God again she had escaped severe injury.  A few stitches, (delivered by Mother Anna in tight-lipped silence) had been all the medical care necessary.  They were lucky, Rias knew.  No less than three bystanders, one of them a child, had not been so fortunate.  He said a prayer for the now heaven-bound three year old along with his usual afternoon prayers.  Would the plague of violence ever end?  He wondered.  He knew, though, the truth.  Jean’s mission, though she knew it not, had been the instigation of the attack.  Rias knew when he picked her up at the airport that danger would be lurking there.  Jean had told him of her view of a dark man on the hood, of her fear that someone else had been hit, and the only words she spoke before she came to her right senses had to do with finding him.  She was sure he must be dead or severely injured.  But no one among the injured remotely matched the description of the mysterious stranger.  Father Rias knew.  He saw and knew, and thanked heaven again.  The knowledge gained by Jean’s vision gave him great peace as he thought of her mission, and her safety.  He loved the young nun- so alive in her faith, so fresh in her young commitment, yet so naive about this area of the world she had been called to.  He knew her heart, though.  Mother Anna, floated in again and in silence placed a paper on the desk.  “I’m afraid the authorities would like your signature on this paper concerning today’s, errrrr, accident, Father.”  She cleared her throat.  Rias, wondering how someone could clear their throat with s0 much latent hostility, nodded.  “Leave it there Mother”, he replied wearily.  “I will make sure it finds the way back to the police.” He heard the bells ring.  “Go gather the sisters, Mother, and I will meet you in the chapel for evening worship”, he ordered.  “The sisters and I will meet you for Mass, Father.”  She again floated out of the room, leaving a smell of starch in her wake.  Father Rias wondered again how starch smell could spread anger in the air.  He didn’t know, but now he was sure it could.  He got up to put on his vestments.  He disliked them, but didn’t want to upset the Abbey further.  He sang a prayer of thanks quietly as he dressed.  Unseen, a young red-haired stranger dressed in white linen stood close by and joined the song.  The song, gathered up in his hands (for it was a visible entity, something like thick smoke to the stranger) along with the prayers and then disappeared.  He quickly carried his precious cargo directly to an altar and carefully laid it down.  Lightening flashed, and the stranger returned to the Abbey- where he was waiting at the front of the chapel as Rias arrived, vestments and all.

Jean again stepped off a plane, this time feeling more secure. Dressed in a black habit now- she made her way (using Father Rias’s directions) straight to the edge of the Armenian quarter where she would take up her position teaching orphaned Palestinian children.  As she walked along, she began to fear she had lost her way for all the ancient-looking brick buildings looked the same.  Still- she soon saw the Arabic sign covered with beautiful vines and turned down the alley-way where it stood.  The building on the left, she knew, was the Armenian equivalent of the Vatican, and the building on the right was the orphanage where she would render her services.  The Armenians, she realized by now, did not welcome teachers from “Rome” , but her mastery of the Arabic language as well as Greek, Hebrew, and English, made her to valuable a candidate to ignore.  Finally reaching the end of the alleyway- covered this time of year with a plethora of green vines, a bluish flower resembling morning glory, and roses galore (the flowers, she thought, seemed as ancient as the crumbling whitewashed bricks) she turned into the final door on the right.  There she saw a room of about one hundred thirty black-eyed children dressed in uniforms of black having lunch.  In silence, they looked up at her, and the portly man with the enormous black beard rose and came over to meet her.  His jolly smile reminded her of a black bearded St. Nicolas, and as a matter of fact- that was his name, Nicholas.  He introduced her to the children as Sister Jean, and taking her bags with him, left the room more deftly than she should have thought someone with his extra weight could move.  She lifted her eyes and looked around the silent room where she could feel the nervous energy.  “Hello, my special new friends”, she said in Arabic.  They looked relieved.  “Jean sister, Hello!” they replied in English. 

She knew immediately she was in love.

~Laurie

Jean’s flight

12 Oct 2011 Leave a Comment

by lauriethinks in Uncategorized

Jean, exhausted and still overwhelmed by that last heated interview, picked up her one antique-looking battered brown suitcase yet once more.  Her white nun’s habit flapped in the breeze making it difficult to see the queue ahead, but held tightly around her face not allowing a single strand of blonde curly hair to reach out.  That, she remembered wryly, would not be a good occurrence here.   Nevertheless, ignoring the wind and her nervous, cramping stomach, she stood as staunchly as her tired muscles would allow and waited patiently for her place on the makeshift ramp leading to the plane.  She had already decided to herself she would not hand them the gift of seeing her openly afraid, so she said a quick, silent prayer and finally stepped aboard.

The plane was packed, she noticed, an unusual fact for this time of the week.  She looked around at the faces staring up at her and felt that same feeling she had felt hundreds of times, the unease of unavoidable freakishness.  Finding a seat near the middle, she climbed over two women wearing black burkas and took a seat next to the window.  Her prayer of thanks for the small release of the window from the press of the crowd all around her went up immediately and Jean, the teacher of English and staunchly dedicated minister of Christ settled in for the plane ride back to Jordan from Pakistan. The woman next to her, she quickly noticed, was pregnant, and she guessed fairly young, yet her worn hands told the story of an already difficult life. What Jean noticed were her startling blue-green eyes.  They were the most beautiful color the young nun had ever seen, but there was a quality in them even more striking than the color.  They seemed to Jean to  have the ability to silently transmit in a single glance the fear of all the women in that world where the Burka reigns.  Jean shuddered in her seat and said yet another silent prayer. After that, she knew nothing; the world of sleep came and wrapped her in its shadowy arms for the next few hours.

The young teacher had not noticed a few things.  Behind her sat a young, dark man in a tan suit, unusual in this land where most men eschew western dress, and drawing even more attention wore a wedding ring; something else odd in a land where the contract in a man’s pocket is all that is necessary to sum up completely his marital obligations. This man sat reading a magazine, but if one looked, it could be seen that his hands squeezed the paper just a bit too tightly and though his eyes moves quickly back and forth, the pages never turned.  Next to him sat another young man, this one even less incognito as he had bright red hair and quick violet-blue eyes that never ceased their examination of everything within sight. His scrutinizing gaze, if it fell on a person for long, was enough to make even the most confident squirm, something people in this particular part of the world do not appreciate.  But these two men did not carry any sign of fear or desire to blend in.  They seemed dedicated completely to their purpose, that unguessed by all their fellow passengers save one.

In the last row and occupying the very last window seat  opposite the aisle holding Jean and the young men sat a man that drew no attention to himself at all.  This man was older and sitting alone, clearly in Islamic dress, and sporting a long wavy brown beard tinged with grey.  He sat with his clear grey eyes half-closed staring out the window, his face so expressionless as to be noticeable to any who was paying attention.  Only two were. The plane took off, and though most of the passengers gripped their seat arms a bit tighter, the three men described moved little.  The young dark man shot a quick glance with piercing black eyes to his companion- with the slightest motion imaginable needed to attract his attention to the man in the back.  The red haired youth with an obviously muscular build barely hidden under his maroon knit polo shirt and also wearing western style tan pants and sandals got up and walked toward the back of the plane, presumably toward the relief station.  On the way the darting violet gaze caught in a microsecond every detail about the man in the back.  The man with the beard, if he noticed, did not give any indication of such realization.  Coming back, the muscles led the red hair back to the seat behind Jean.  With a nod to his companion, he flagged down the closest attendant, another young man in Islamic dress.  Asking for water, a knowing glance passed between the two.  The attendant walked toward the back of the plane, got the water and returned.  There was no return glance, but a lemon rested on the rim of the glass and it had exactly three seeds on its side.  The red haired youth drank the water and passed the lemon to his companion.  He looked at it and then ate it, peel and all. 

Nothing else happened during the flight and the plane finally touched ground at Queen Alia International Airport.  Jean, refreshed but both starving and thirsty, waited until the ladies next to her moved, and then carefully made her way out of her seat, small case in hand just as the grey bearded fellow passed her row.  Quickly the two young men from behind took their places behind her.  The attendant moved past the bearded man just enough to allow Jean and her two followers to pass, resulting in an audible growl from the mysterious man, the first sign he had exhibited that he was part of a drama going on unseen to all around them, especially unknown to the drama’s foremost antagonist.  Jean, followed closely by her unknown companions, moved down the ramp out of the plane.  As she moved into the Jordanian airport, she saw Father Rias there to meet her.  He reached out and took her hand, gave it a stiff shake, and then worriedly looked from side to side. Funny, if anyone had noticed, the companions right behind them had no luggage at all and attracted no greeting or attention at all from the two who more and more seemed to be their charges.  Making their way quickly out to the car garage, Father Rias, a man in his forties who looked like he was in his sixties, furrowed his already wrinkled brow, looked around again and put Jean’s case  in the trunk of an old black sedan.  Jean noticed it was filled with large boxes.  They settled in the front seat and Father Rias immediately began to breathe a bit easier.  He handed Jean a well packed bag lunch, and she gratefully ate the sandwich of egg, olive, a handful of chips and drank the icy cold water. Rias sped away, relieved to be leaving.  The small car behind him at the airport gate was a small green auto driven by a man with a grey beard.  As the priest’s car pulled out, a speeding bus came hurtling toward them seemingly out of nowhere.  Jean screamed, heard the screech of tires, saw a dark man sitting on the hood of their small sedan and was filled with terror that they had struck a bystander.  After this, she knew no more.  When she awoke (not knowing how long she had been unconscious, she was safely in the Abbey, and found Father Rias with  a  bandaged head sitting over them. Their two young companions were still with them, but now had a different and certainly more regal look.  There was no sign at all of the bearded gentleman.

Laurie

Our Story Begins/ Introspective

11 Oct 2011 Leave a Comment

by lauriethinks in Uncategorized

Well, we reach the end of the beginning and the beginning of the middle, where our story finally begins.  Remember, this is a story, a tale of fantastic imaginings and not a theological treatise.  Is truth contained in the happenings herein?  Certainly.  Does it give all something to think about in the raging battle between good and evil we find taking place in our world today?  Again, certainly.  Remember, man because of his disdain of Divine Love now finds himself removed from that Garden of Love prepared especially for him – that Garden not only now in a dimension invisible to his gaze, but its joys untouchable to humanity seemingly forevermore. See; currently this same Garden is guarded by warrior angels armed with flaming swords and  transformed into a dimension invisible to humankind, but nevertheless a  presence of unimaginable importance on the Earth as it remains a source of conflict between the followers of Satan and the Angels of the Living God.  Nor can the most cynical believer dismiss this tale, for archaeology tells us that a natural dam on two of the rivers mentioned in Genesis formed during the last Ice Age  and today the original location of the Garden must  lay beneath the existing Persian Gulf ( an unusually shallow sea) and  the ancient riverbeds actually become visible to modern satellite photography.

Our story begins: 

The Garden Beautiful  reeled as an unimaginable earthquake shook that birthplace of mankind, the cradle made especially for his development which humanity now found off-limits because of their decision to participate in THE rebellion. This war stemming from Lucifer’s pride, you will remember  had already shaken the heavens, producing war and the fall of many of it’s most powerful of Hosts.  The Angels of God, victorious in defeating the enemy aeons before the garden’s creation, now assisted in sealing off what should have been man’s most precious earthly blessing.  No longer would all of humanity walk personally with their God in the cool of the evening.  No longer would they share the paths and shadows, the fruit and beauty, or the flowing streams alongside personal conversation with their Creator.   Waters, a million fountains flowing from the bowels of the Earth at once, now surged to cover over Eden, forever sealing off its beauty from its intended inhabitants.  Not only that, but heavenly beings charged with such now move the Garden into a Spiritual dimension undetectable to human eyes. The Garden remained in its place, under water and in a different dimension, but the Tree of Life was carried by loving Angelic hands to the Seventh Heaven, well out of reach of all those who would take place in the rebellion and the deceived human race.    The thought of humanity eating of its fruit and being condemned to an eternity in a state  of fallen rebellion with no hope of rescue was a scenario too horrible for any still in heaven to contemplate.

Life inside the Garden went on, however.  Trees bore their fruit, though now in a heavenly dimension unseen by human eyes and untouched by the Earth-Sea covering.  Animals disappeared inside  the arboretum  (for if a leader and ruler falls and is expelled- so his charges follow in his fall!) and so this became a plant world dreamed of in the folds of human memory and guarded by the sharpest of Angelic swords, but my oh my, what plants!  The beauty we see today in the flora of our world causes us to wonder- and how much more we would wonder if we could but lay eyes on that lost grand land!  From the beginning we read it served as a solace for the LORD Himself, who must still sojourn there in the cool of heavenly afternoons, close by in a Spiritual sense to His greatest creations who are now also His greatest concerns.  A significant difference remains, though, for  now  YVHV strolls unaccompanied except for His angel ministers.  The serpent who beguiled is able to come and go, for he is well aware of  the gardens secret location, but he cannot enter lest bidden to,  and it is here that now and then the LORD grants him an audience as happened during Job’s lifetime.  He must enter in humble serpent form, wretchedly crawling on his stomach alone slowly passed the angel guards he once considered his subjects, and then only when the Divine scepter is raised to allow him  rare entrance and interview.

Actually, the serpent is simply an avatar of a much more powerful being.  God created Satan, you will remember, as the most beautiful creature of  the heavens, and then instructed him to serve the man of dust in the very garden created not for Lucifer’s pleasure, but for the living dust carrying the breath of the LORD God inside his lungs, the one whose progeny became the object of the beautiful rebellious being’s eternal hatred.  As the angels worked with resolve to seal man’s pride and glory, Eden, Satan worked to renew his influence and  power over more and more of those humans he had before so easily deceived, struggling to re-establish his kingdom in the hearts of men who had by this time all but forgotten the God who made them.

~LAURIE