Tuesday, December 30, 2008 12:58:07 PM

x x x x x

"Perfect Actions"

Summit Transit

 


 

Reaching The Summit

 

 

Today marks the summit transit. The weather is bringing fresh, clear, freezing, healthy winds with lots of snow to cover all that is dead and dying with a covering of pure white. My Father answered my questions about how to help some friends get free from a deep cave that seems to offer refuge from the blinding white of an early arctic winter; it seems comfortable and warm yet the cave is filled with many creatures that hang in the darkness waiting for fresh blood to satisfy their appetites.
 
I went to my Father's house and found my family there all waiting to receive that secret message designed to help us get ready for a battle that goes on in a world that can't been seen with our eyes. Yes, eleven years in Korea was a wonderfully nurturing experience as I daily cared for the young blossoms that grow there. All the time I was away, the disease that shocked my soul back in 1997 had been growing and taking more life and light from all that was left here. Now that I have returned I find the infection reaching even the youngest members of this far north sorting field. I call it a sorting field simply because most people who live here actually hate cold weather and 64.5 degrees north is definitely the arctic and not a place for those who prefer palm trees and warm beaches. Here in this land grow the young people of the future whose lives barely rooted in the permafrost will eventually give way to people who have been powerfully influenced by the extremes of the arctic; later they will fly south to lands in the lower 48 parts of the US never to return again. 
 
Making the summit has taken a lot of time and now I can see the desolation of the land that surrounds this mountain that has taken so much of my life to climb. The most immediate matter in view are some people who are very close to my life who are caught in a trap woven with lies, deception and sacred truths twisted by those who serve the Prince of Darkness; people who boldly claim to be Apostles who are actually puppets of women who claim to be the prophetess. They are drunk on the blood and sweat of the many pawns in their "disorganization" they call a church.
 
My task is not easy but necessary; I must tell them the simple truth I heard from my Father as I reached the Final Rock at the summit. This world is fading fast and once the door closes there will be no way to escape the cave and the creatures that will take their captives to the center of the source of warmth where the fiery volcanic throat boils red with undulating heat.
 
Something amazing is happening as the boundary between my body and mind gather greater atunement with the rhythm of the stars and my Father's voice. So many go on as if life in this world will remain forever ignoring the growing tide of darkness and immorality. One place in this world has defined their limits by making sure the Sun will come to touch this world before they ever let the sickness of the west touch their lives. They have also climbed the mountain and made sure the Sun will touch this world to take their children into the Light and they rest of the world to ashes.
 
I gave my live to the Son of Man more that 30 years ago and He has never ever left me alone or helpless; I wouldn't dare try and live in this world without him.   

 


  

 

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It Begins In Light

English Lessons

from the days when

Meaning was Conveyed Gracefully

 

When I awake, I am still with Thee.--PS. cxxxix. 18.

 

Let the glow of love destroy
Cold obedience faintly given;
Wake our hearts to strength and joy
With the flushing eastern heaven.

C. K. VON ROSENROTH.


 

With his first waking consciousness, he can set himself to take a serious, manly view of the day before him. He ought to know pretty well on what lines his difficulty is likely to come, whether in being irritable, or domineering, or sharp in his bargains, or self-absorbed, or whatever it be; and now, in this quiet hour, he can take a good, full look at his enemy, and make up his mind to beat him. It is a good time, too, for giving his thoughts a range quite beyond himself,--beyond even his own moral
struggles,--a good time, there in the stillness, for going into the realm of other lives. His wife,--what needs has she for help, for sympathy, that he can meet? His children,--how can he make the day sweeter to them? This acquaintance, who is having a hard time; this friend, who dropped a word to you yesterday that you hardly noticed in your hurry, but that comes up to you now, revealing in him some finer trait, some deeper hunger, than you had guessed before,--now you can think these things over.

G. S. MERRIAM.

September 27 , 2009

 

 

 

 

© Bill Watterson

Gotta Have Happy Memories

This One Has To Be The Best Yet!! Ha

 

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