Humbled And Head-Bowed

Posted on | December 5, 2016 | No Comments

as written October 30, 2013


I am grieving the hiatus of my health. In mere moments, my entire world shrunk in scope to the size of one more spoonful of food I was terrified to eat. Trying to re-open to my once vast world from a rigid cocoon of loss and despair, has been almost impossible. Slowly, slowly, one spoonful at a time, I am learning how to eat out of the palm of my once available and beautiful world. Still afraid, but knowing my body needs the nourishment in order to move past this – I must swallow. I must raise the strength to my parched lips and swallow it down. I must. I must. Even in the fear. Despite it. Despite what may follow. I must.

“While we can’t control what we are given, we absolutely can control what we do with what we have been given. No matter how harsh. No matter how painful. No matter how difficult.” – Dani Shapiro

“Anything that ever happens to you can add value to you.” – Oprah

I can make room beside the unbearableness and despair…and make room for some joy. I can allow both in – there is always room, if I choose to make it. Maybe that is one of the many lessons, here. When I find myself craving simple emotional grief because it’s a space that is familiar and comfortable, I hear Him say to me,

My love…that is why you do not need more of it. What you need is what you have been given, to teach you what is next. You tried to offer all your imperfections on the altar, in hopes that such surrender would meet the requirements of the trial. But, my love, that wasn’t the lesson. It is not how quickly you admit your shortcomings and turn to me in surrender of them with the sole hope of having the situation removed…it is in your motivation in doing so. Offering imperfection is a beautiful lesson you have already learned, my sweet and tender one.

Becoming one in forgiveness and purpose with your spirit, mind, and body is also mightily important – and you have done this, today. It is in the act of abandon; of releasing your sweaty grasp on the timeline of control. It is the humbled, head-bowed offering of deciding to choose life despite the seeming continuation of the infirmity. It is the deep, deep knowledge that in times such as these, my Love and healing still comes; life is still being asked of you to live! Just because you struggle accessing the joy you have worked so hard to feel because your avenues of coping have been tried, does not mean joy is not to be felt.

You are right, my love – you can make room beside anything, for Me. For Love. for Joy. For Hope. It has been a most grievous lesson for you, this I know more than anyone ever will. Your judgment of yourself in how you perceive you are handling it is so delicately and tenderly carried by me personally. I carry you, my sweet. You are in my care. And you are walking out of the other side…I never needed you to learn this perfectly. And it will NOT hinder your recovery from it. You said ‘Thank you’ to me today, and I have heard you. It was what I have been waiting for. I will supplant you with the necessary faith and courage your body needs to continue healing. I will supplant your mind with peace and all that is required is of you to choose to make room for the joy, and I will be felt. I will eliminate your fear of food, and I will ease the passing of the symptoms as they continue to recede. I will magnify your strength as you take small moves each day to find me, to find yourself, to make room. I will calm your troubled mind, and soothe the anxiety that is a by-product of such an unbearable task – NOT an indicator of your mental state. 

What am I to take away from this, Lord?

You will know when you will know. As always, you feel the enormity of the experience and the grandness of the lesson burgeoning inside you. Let it marinate, let it curate there until it will be made known. It will reveal itself to you, over time, over the years; through service and offering and hard work and courage and animation and dedication and ultimately – of you being you. 

How may I be of service to thee today, Father?

That, is how you say thank you, my amazing child. Your service to me can be found in helping your mother – use your talents to assist her long-awaited and patient request. Honor her as she opens her home back up to you, as it’s always been. Let her be your mother once again, it will heal you both. You will find both comfort, distraction, happiness, and a full heart in doing so.

Do not run, my love. Stay here, with me, today. I am the creator, the nurturer, the Savior – let me care for your body, mind, and heart. Serve your mother. Serve your fellow men by continuing to edit the book that has long been in the making. Continue your acts of faith by feeding your body. I will face your fears, my love…because you are facing Me. I stand in front of them, behind them, through them, over them – I rule them. They do not rule you. I love you. Forever and always.


The Stay

Posted on | December 4, 2016 | No Comments

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After a month of sickness and soul-deep darkness that I couldn’t fight, all my body wanted to do was sleep. More and more, as I gave in to not eating or drinking. My body heated and sweat and cooled off, symptoms wracked through and my mind left me homeless on a street in a far away corner of some other universe. I could feel my body get tired, and I started to wonder if I was dying. But in the moment, I didn’t really care. And that thought scared me enough to wake, then go back to sleep again.

After three days of sleeping day and night on the loveseat in my friend’s home on Long Island, I woke to my heart pounding out of my chest. I hadn’t gone to the bathroom in a day and a half, I was dizzy and the acid burned up my throat. Nicholas was working in Brooklyn, and I didn’t know what to do – but something was wrong. Really wrong, and I was going to die in that chair if I didn’t get up for myself and get help. My roommate came home from work, and I cried as I asked her for help. I had no health insurance, but it didn’t matter anymore. My life mattered more than insurance. Walking to her car and into the doctor’s office felt like a Herculean effort. I was coming out of my skin and couldn’t do anything about it. It felt like I was dying. The doctor took one look at me, and told me to go to the emergency room. I wanted to curl up on the floor and not move, I couldn’t imagine the energy to go back outside and to another location. But she helped me.

And sat in a smelly, loud, scary emergency room waiting room for two hours. She called Nicholas, and when he arrived she left me to his care. When they finally called me in, I was tachycardic and severely dehydrated, with debilitating abdominal pain. There were patients being treated in hallways, outdated equipment and stained ceiling tiles frightened me; I felt like a small rabbit caught in a snare, a child trapped in a nightmare. I couldn’t bear anything. Much of what happened next is blurry, and to be honest – I don’t want to remember every detail. What I do know is this…

They hooked me to an IV, monitored my vitals and pain, and Nicholas sat with me all through that endless night. Close to dawn, they admitted me for a longer stay. I ended up being there for five long days, and even longer nights. During which I was tested for every digestive malady under the sun, and which I actually prayed to know because an ANSWER of what was WRONG with me would finally provide a direction to go in. The not knowing was unbearable. The hardest parts of that experience were as follows…

Since it was a teaching hospital, there was never the same doctor or doctor-in-training who would come see me twice. Over thirteen different doctor’s treated me that week, often with a group of interns crowded into the room. Blood was drawn twice a day, tests were sent out, and no one would come to give us answers. When my mother came that second day, she tracked down anyone who could give them. They tested my blood, my urine, my plasma, my stool. All tests came back negative: for Crohns disease, Celiac, IBS, ulcers, illnesses which I can’t pronounce and can’t remember, a terrifying endoscopy where I was put under for the first time in my life but which yielded no cancers or other obvious malady. Endless it seemed. The ironic thing was, every time a test came back negative – I was disappointed. Because it meant there still wasn’t an answer.

My roommate was an older woman who spoke no English, and couldn’t control her bowels…and the nursing staff was so busy and overworked she went long periods without being tended to. So the room smelled like a pigsty, the bathroom smeared in shit and uncleaned, so I stepped hopscotch style between piles, barefoot with my IV stand in tow as infrequently as possible. Showering was out of the question. Nurses in training poked and prodded, and I only screamed to stop once when one of them failed three times to take arterial blood. The bruise on my wrist took up half my forearm and lasted two weeks. I was covered in them; I didn’t know who I was anymore.

The only thing that kept me tethered was the presence of my mother, and Nicholas. The first two nights, I sent my mother to my roommates home, but Nicholas…he stayed with me. The second night, he spent in the hospital bed next to me. I don’t know what I would have done without him. I was in an arena of nightmares, both internal and external, and he was the only safe thing in all the universe.

I felt separate from myself, other. Like a foreign alien inhabiting this mess of flesh and bone. I’d examine my skinny wrists and the needles and tubes and wonder where I had gone. Frightening does not convey how that actually felt. I had lost myself.

The third day, both Nicholas and my mother were out getting food, and I could feel my heartbeat ratchet up, and panic choke my throat. I pressed the button for the nurse, but not once had that ever yielded one coming to check on me. The alarms rang from down the hall, a code blue of someone coding. Someone dying. Feet ran past and shouting began. The terror rose up, seized me around the throat and I could not even scream. The room whirled and I looked for a bucket to throw up in. If someone had handed me a gun, I’m not sure I wouldn’t have used it to release myself from the torture. A paralytic electric current had passed over my skin, and I shook and moaned from the force and freeze of it.

My mother walked in, took one look at me and ran back out, yelling for help. Eventually, someone came, and once more – my symptoms yielded no obvious life threatening situation, and I wanted to scream in frustration. And then she said, “Are you having a panic attack?”

Something in her words resonated, and I instinctively knew that yes! That is what this is! almost immediately. Comprehension also dawned on the face of my mother, and some sort of relief helped calm me down some. I thought…THIS is what a panic attack feels like? It feels like DYING! That’s ALL this is?! This feels WORSE than dying!!!

I felt relieved and ashamed, humiliated at the extremity of my reaction and my inability to control it. But to know…something! SOME part of this THING that had taken over me, was strong. The nurse gave me my first Xanax, and I felt the calm spread slowly, blessedly through my blood. Her order was that I could be given two pills a day for the next two days. No more. It made me feel like a crack addict; punished for something I couldn’t control. I felt…inhuman.

Nicholas held my hand as my mother ran out of patience. She demanded a new room, and she got one for me. I was moved to a quieter, better smelling room. My new roommate was an elderly woman who fought for every breath, and was never conscious. But it was better than where I’d been. And at some point, a new doctor came in and told us that only concrete thing they could find to be an issue was something called Gastritis. Basically, just inflammation of the stomach lining. It’s temporary. It should never last more than a couple weeks. It causes nausea, acid reflux and heartburn.

That’s it. It was an answer, but I knew that was not the only thing wrong with me. But, I was also grateful it wasn’t more serious…despite the shame I felt around how extreme it felt in my own body and the confusion around how the diagnosis didn’t match up to how awful I felt. They gave me Prilosec and my 2-a-day-Xanax, and told me that once I was hydrated sufficiently and increased my calories to 500 a day, I’d be released. No more doctor’s came, but maybe they didn’t need to.

The beauty in this experience was the following…

When my Mother arrived that second day, she curled up in the bed with me and I buried my head in her chest. It’s been 30 years since I needed my mother like this, in this way. And the first time I’ve felt that need since then too. She fought for me the entire way; for care, a cleaner room, medication, food that I would try to eat, answers. She demanded for me when I could not show up for myself. When she left that night, she unclasped a bracelet from her wrist and put it on mine. “This will keep you brave,” she told me fiercely. I clung to it all through the dark nights to come, touching the smooth gold links and imagined breathing in her scent and strength. She brought me flowers and let sunshine into the room. She sat and read me the entire book of, “Gift From the Sea” by Anne Morrow Lindbergh. I closed my eyes and listened to her voice, the cadence and lilt and upstate New York accent that brought me memories of every single night of my childhood and all the books she’s read to me over the years. The sound of turning pages, the smell of the paper, the pictures and sounds the story told through her voice. She brought me my noise-canceling headphones so I could escape the sounds of the hospital each night, and promised to be there in the morning. I couldn’t have done this without her. She has always shown up for me. Always.

From the first day, Nicholas was by my side. He was quiet and steady, just offering his presence even though he didn’t know what to do or how best to help. Men love to know what to DO, and he didn’t let that make him frantic – he just stayed with me, letting me know how much he loved me. He never left. I could offer him nothing, nothing, and yet he stayed. I cried myself to sleep thinking about that; about all the years I thought I had to prove my worth, prove that I was lovable. He took my fear of abandonment and speared it straight through the heart. Even though I couldn’t feel it much, looking back, it was one of the greatest offerings of love I have ever been given. To be loved in such a state, is to be loved wholly. And now, I could not deny that I had been given that gift.

The other miracle that happened is that the hospital’s Medicaid rep came and offered assistance for me. She ended up doing all the paperwork and submitting everything needed, and was able to procure approval for me. The hospital stay would be covered in its entirety. 100%. I broke down and cried. The bill was over $40,000. I have never been so grateful for federal and state-funded programs as I was in that moment. And I was humbled even more to learn first hand how that can save a life, and save me from destitution and financial ruin. I will always be thankful…

At the end of day 5, I was released. My mother and Nicholas wheeled me out to the car, and I breathed in the cold, bright blue end of October air. I was weak and frightened, and far from recovered. But I had people who loved me, and I knew more than I did a week before. Sometimes, we are only given the next five minutes, the next 50 yards, only one small answer at a time. And yet we’re still required to move forward. To live.

I am not okay. I don’t know what’s all wrong with me. But I’m not giving up yet. There’s still too much to live for. And the answer was clear: Go home to them. Let yourself be cared for. Let yourself be loved. 

Yes. Yes…

[A few days after this, I packed up my car and drove up to Boston to my parents house, where I would spend the next six months convalescing and recovering. The truth of all that happened is still being uncovered, even three years later. But it does include some severe PTSD and triggered experiences from my past that came to the surface alongside the physical symptoms.] 

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The Decision To Doctor

Posted on | September 29, 2016 | No Comments

as written October 23, 2013


Dear Lord…

It has been four weeks, four days and some-odd hours since I have been beset by this sickness. Add to that another two and half weeks before that feeling not-so-good, and we’ve got nearly two months of this. After trying as hard as I had inside me, and much more…it got worse a couple days ago. You know, you were there. So I have made the choice to see the doctor…because I don’t know what else to do. I feel afraid of going…of failing you, myself, and using the money you gifted me with on this instead of living expenses. I am sorry. I am scared of what might be wrong with me, what if they find nothing, what if I’m dying…I’ve never been this sick before. It rides on the coattails of losing control of everything else in my life. It has brought me to the brink of my sanity so many times I have forgotten what happiness and joy and movement is…I know that the ability to believe I’ll get well and the hope that sometimes filters in is simply a crucial gift from thee. Lord…I am afraid. Did I do something wrong, here? Or did I just need to go through all of this before finding what will make me well? What if nothing will make me well?

My sweet Lily of the fields…today is the day where these fears are put to rest. Once and for all. You have learned more than you could have if it had happened any other way. I promise you my love, despite your imperfect belief and faith (because your all is enough, and you have given that to me day in and day out, through the long nights throughout all of this) that today you will see that this can have its end. The lesson is not about the healing…it is about the path to that healing. It is about all you have proven to me through this seemingly endless time of suffering. Be not afraid, my cherished one – hope is around the corner. Do you believe that you will heal, my love?

Yes, I do. Somewhere past the enormous fears, and the terrifying stark reality of having experienced something I never have before – how it has unhinged something inside me that I cannot control…there is that little bright seed. But Lord? I cannot eat…I cannot move…I cannot find joy or happiness or the faith that actually is enough to conjure true healing…I feel like I have failed having faith.

My love. While I honor your feelings, I do not honor fear – for fear is false, it is a lie, as is the sickness that claims your body still. But I am God, and I control all…no matter its hold. No matter its power. You have found yourself lacking, but my sweet one – I will always make up the rest. Your faith’s power lies in its ability to access Me, and my power overcomes all. Even and especially when you cannot even imagine it. Even, when you feel so far away from success that it seems a mere dream; a dream that is too painful to even remember or recall at all. Your darkness has been profoundly deep, but I, even the Alpha and Omega have descended below them all. And it is upon my mercy, my atonement, my hope, my faith, my power – that you shall rise. Let yourself be carried, let yourself be lifted up.

Monica Rai, it is my power still that works through modern medicine, it is I who inspires the doctors to care for my children beyond their mortal capacity to be inspired. Your illness is not some foreign, unknown, untreatable maleficence. It is a means to an end, it is a vessel to carry you to me. You are here, my sweet. And I know you don’t know how to believe that, in this moment – when nothing has seemed to abate the symptoms and restore your robust and strong health. They will know how to heal you, my love. They will know how to treat you – through my power and influence. I orchestrate all – even the care of your meekest ailment to this kind that has attacked your very sanity and will to live.

Not all faith should be based on past experience, my love. Some faith, like this, needs to be based on what you could not even possibly imagine…what you have yet to experience. I shall always take care of you. I shall always provide for you. I shall always, make a way when no way was seemingly possible. In the name of Jesus Christ, my only Begotten Son, I bless your mind to be cleared away of doubt and suspicion, pain and punishment, despair and depression. I bless your body to be healed to its rightful state through the blessing and miracle of modern medicine, which all comes from me. I bless you to be free of fear of what they will find or not find – that you might know it is my will that you be free from this tribulation – and that you be free of the fear that it will return…I bless you to trust your own body which has carried you your entire life – has provided for you for your entire life, and will continue to do so until you are called to meet your Maker. I stand as a shield against the immensity of your fears, that they might not take themselves out against your weakened vessel – thereby strengthening themselves in their fight against my Love, mercy, and grace. I am God, even the prince of peace, who carries you. Fear has no place within me, and I declare that you shall not be punished by them anymore. Can you let them go, my sweet love?

Yes…I release them.

That is all that is required of you now, my love. You have lingered in the land of faith and belief for many weeks now, it is time for answers. It is time for recovery. It is time for you to be well. I have always provided a way, and I always will. I bless you with my strength of body, that you might travel to the doctor and be sure of frame and mind, to explain adequately and thoroughly the symptoms which have waylaid you. I bless you to be fit and strong enough to obtain the medicine you need, to accept the clear answers of those who care for you and to heed their advice. All, will be provided for. Insurance is indeed a wonderful thing, my love – but it is not more wonderful than I, for it is I who carries you. I will make a way, where a way could not be seen by you – or your family or friends who are unable to accept that. Insurance is not the answer, I am. Do what is needed, do what is required, do what you feel you need to – I am by your side, I am in the voice of the practitioners and in their steady hand, I am in the love of your fellow men who bestow it upon you, I am everywhere and I am everything. Say goodbye to the darkness, my love. The Son is here. I stand by your bed, in sleep and in wakefulness. I bless you to feel no more pain, no more hopelessness. Today, we rise, my love.

Do not despair, for I am here. Trust in this day, and all shall be revealed. I bless you with alertness and clarity, with a disappearance of panic and stress – that others’ stress may not exacerbate your symptoms. This, shall be no more. And we have done this together. I needed this time with you – unrivaled, focused time so we could get to the other side. It is here we stand, my love. Not as a punishment, but as an eternal preparation. It is done. Let us move forward…

I am here, every single step of the way. I carry you…feel my presence in your very cells, in your bones and mind and heart and hands. Your patience and your faith has grown immeasurably. I am always astounded at the pace at which you internalize and maintain the lessons I prepare for you to learn. Always, my bright student – always wanting to learn, to grow, to become better than that which you were before. Enough learning, today, my one and only. My Champion. Time to be healed. I love you. What you are and where you are, are always, always enough. I promise to make up the rest. Be still, my brave one. The light is come.

Jehovah, Abba, & Mother

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In Hiding

Posted on | September 27, 2016 | No Comments

as read October 11, 2013

in-hidingIf you want to be found, stand where the seeker seeks.–Sidney Lanier. “When does a good program turn into a bad program? When it becomes a hiding place. As adult children, we are good – no, ingenious – at finding hiding places.

Sometimes we hide behind our work by staying super busy. We hide in prayer itself – behind sweet-sounding words. We can choose to always be tired so we can hide in sleep. We can hide behind any of the “helper” roles by fixing others so we never have to fix ourselves. We can even make our program a hiding place by going through the motions, saying all the right things, but never really encountering ourselves. If we want to be found, we have to come out where somebody can find us. Your work is to commit to the following: I will identify my hiding places and make conscious decisions about choosing them or not.”

Days of Healing, Days of Joy by Earnie Larsen and Carol Larsen Hegarty

Where am I hiding? Am I hiding in this illness? If that’s true, then I don’t even want to know what scares me enough to keep me here, sick and tired and hopeless. And that admission, in and of itself – is enough to keep me here longer. Sigh…

Change Me
–Ruth C.’s Prayer

Change me, God,

Please change me.

Though I cringe,


Resist and resent.

Pay no attention to me whatsoever.

When I run to hide

Drag me out of my safe little shelter.

Change me totally.

Whatever it takes.

However long You must work at the job.

Change me – and save me

From spiritual self-destruction.

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Help Me

Posted on | November 30, 2015 | 2 Comments

as written October 10, 2013


Dear Lord…

What is wrong with me??? I thought I was getting better, and then last night happened. Worst hours in a week. Am I really getting better? I am giving everything I have to choosing faith over fear, and I am stronger than I was a couple weeks ago. But…this morning I wake up and I don’t want to trust my own body. Fear. Am I getting better?…

Yes, my sweet. Your body is indeed knitting itself back to full health, with my aid. Sometimes ‘setbacks’ aren’t really setbacks at all, but just the process of healing. Healing in all forms can come in waves, just like grief – as you well know.

I am trying. I am fighting for myself and for the higher truth with everything I have…I don’t have any more to give…

I know, my love. I know all too well. And I tell that in that place of grace, is where my body, through the sacrament of my sacrifice – steps in and carries you. If you cannot trust your own body perfectly, you can trust Mine. For I carry you. Did you think you would not need me again, my love? Faith is needed in your life, in big ways.

I am angry at you for making me learn this lesson this way. It’s so unbearably hard. I can’t fight this looming depression well and I can’t live my life to get outside of it. I feel weak and needy, unwell and a bit abandoned. I feel angry and hopeless, even amidst the faith I have been building. I cannot do this any more, Lord…

My Lily. You ARE doing this. You are enduring. You are leaning into me, and you are exercising the faith I wish for you to embrace. You give yourself and your will to me again and again, and you acknowledge that I Am King – your prince of peace. Your everlasting Father. Your Counselor. I feel your emotions and I validate them, but even more do I validate that you have accepted this reality with meekness and humility. I will stave off the self-pity, my sweet – and I will make up all the rest of what you are not able. I would not have invited this lesson for you if you were not able to bear it. But even so, it is temporary – it is not permanent. Already, you have felt the strength in your body and that healing that has been happening. It will continue…be not dismayed by the slow pace. Faith is a slow process, but it will not be slower than you can bear. 

I do not want to harm my body by not getting the proper care for it – you know how much I respect and try to honor this vessel you have gifted me. Even without health insurance, I don’t care if it means my body is hurting and needs help beyond what I can give.

Do you trust me, my love?

I am trying, God. I am trying with all I have.

The answer does not lie in quick acting medicines or procedures, Monica Rai. It lies in Me. And in your patience, faith, and trust. I know this has lasted longer than almost any illness you have thus far endured, and I know your searching of pertinent medical diagnoses to calm your troubled heart and even more troubled mind. I understand this need, and I do not judge you for it. I know you are giving me your best. I know you are wanting to promise feats of behavior and even old desires of perfectionism if I but heal you – but love, this is not a punishment. This is a lesson. I do not require perfection, I require your faith. Your trust. Your obedience. I would desire, your love. And I have that – I have that in spades, my love. 

I do not feel home anywhere…and I haven’t felt well enough to create a homey space for me here in Long Island to help ease my depression and encourage productivity…I cannot DO ANYTHING TO MAKE MYSELF FEEL BETTER, and it’s killing me inside. I do not like it here, I don’t want to be here anymore. I don’t like Brooklyn either…I don’t know why we came…I can only lay there and watch my muscles atrophy and my hope struggle not to snuff out.

Physical muscle can be rebuilt, as you have done countless times and as you will do again. This, was a time of building your faith muscles and nurturing your spirituality – both with me, and with Nick as a couple. That is the muscle you have been strengthening, for it was weak and ‘atrophied’ and needed tending to. And in my great wisdom, I knew you would not address it in the manner that it needed. So I provided the opportunity for you to do so. I recognize that this is one of the hardest trials you have faced – mostly because in addition to everything else changed in your life, and you controlling nothing – your body and health is also affected, the last thing you have that is your own. But your body is mine, it is gifted to you – and you needed to re-learn this lesson. It is a lesson of the acutest kind, and it will not last long. I know it feels like it has been an eternity already, and that you cannot recall what it is to have a healthy body to live your life. But I do promise you this, my Lily, my brave soul – it is lessening. It will not be as unbearable as it started out as. It will continue to abate, little by little. Do not push yourself, physically. Let your body have the time it needs to knit together once again. Know that the moments of feeling unwell will also abate, they will not remain, and they will continue to be of less frequency and duration than the last. I needed you to reach to me, today. I needed you to know, how desperately and deeply I love you. I needed you to know that I am preparing you – not punishing you. There is a vast difference. You do not need punishing, Monica Rai, you need championing. And we stand all around you, doing so.

Your inactivity and seeming unproductive hours and days will start to have meaning, will begin to make sense to you and you will start to feel the significance and symbolism and holiness this time is meant to teach you and give you. We are here to minister to you – listen, feel of our presence and our communication, feel of our support. You are in a holy sphere, Monica my Love. Embrace it. Lean unto it, unto us – in your want. You have been submitting to this in greater and deeper ways each day. You have shown great faith by going with your father great distances to visit your brother, who sore needed his family. You show great faith by going back to my sweet daughter L’s home, which she has lovingly opened to you to share. It might not be your home, but it is a home in which I am welcome. And that is what you need most. Not your own place where you can isolate and be alone, but here – you are surrounded by my Spirit and by women who love you. I validate the difficulty you face of feeling split and stretched, unable to surround yourself with your own beautiful things. But my Spirit is more potent than that, and it is that Spirit that I wish you to embrace, rather than the belongings that have comforted you so much in the years previous.

Yes, this is a terribly difficult lesson. But it has slowed you down enough to keep you here – rather than running away, which you have been trying to do. Stay put, my love…and feel of me. Partake of this love and comfort being offered you. I love that you gave your father the opportunity to bless you, more than once. Heed those words. Heed the faith he has in his marked and powerful ability to access me while laying his hands on your head. Your body will tell you what it needs, do not be afraid to nourish it. It needs those things in order to continue healing.

My darling girl, this too, shall pass. And when it is over, you will have changed, even now – you are greatly changed. You will not forget how this changed your heart, but you will forget the physical particulars of this trial. This is good in my eyes, for your body will be needed — it is needed to carry and bear the children who are waiting for you. A time which looms very close indeed. This in-between time, albeit hard and difficult and pronounced in its potency of lessons — will be short. You will move on to where life is calling you both, starting out a new journey in a new place. I bless this union of yours, and I bless how hard you are both trying to look to me during this time. It strengthens your bond, your love, and your yoked faith in Me. How I love you, and love you, and love you…my darling Lily. You come to me, when you are heavy laden, and I shall give you rest. Be well, I bless you to knit and heal faster and faster, that you might reap the blessings of obedience and of the miracles I deign to bestow upon you. You are my miracle, and I will heal you. Be still — and know that I am God. We love you.


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