One Woman’s Deep New York Horror

Hagar Speaks Again while women are still shut out; shut up; with their children worldwide.

Taken from “Uncovered No More: the Untold Story” and “Uncovered No More: a four blood moon testimony (volume 3)” all glory to GOD. This day in America, I am yet again singing with Roberta Flack, and Our Song as Women of GOD is “Angelitos Negros” for I am deeply, deeply disturbed by the Male & Female Chauvinism being shown forth by American White Men and Women in the United States of America. It is 6:12 AM on October 8, 2017. I will not allow this symptom of the Human Disease to pass to my children so help me GOD.

They will do what they need to do to be righteous, peaceful, and joyful on God’s Green Earth and if that means they flip burgers at McDonald’s to pay their bills that way but smile at everyone and give service to the King joyfully their whole lives, then they did what was pleasing in the Sight of GOD. Humans need importance. Life is a competition to them, at least on this part called 50 States.

You go ahead and play your games. I will see to it that every person in Austin, Texas, hears one message and one message alone: YOU are important created in the Image of GOD. Do what you do with the love I see in you, my ten, and then 13, children and counting, and I KNOW that love never fails. I know it.

I will keep writing for you, my LOVES until we joyfully prove them rightfully wrong…….Until the world understands that when strong football players reject the country called America (#TakeAKnee) because She rejects them still though She refuses to admit it, then we will be full of love for them until GOD makes our enemies in the flesh life our footstool according to the deep concepts of the New Testament called LOVE NEVER, EVER GROWs COLD IN Jesus Christ and all glory to God!

213 One Woman’s Deep Part One
October 30, 2013

Luke 23:25-31 And he released unto them him that for sedition and murder was cast into prison, whom they had desired; but he delivered Jesus to their will. And as they led him away, they laid hold upon one Simon, a Cyrenian, coming out of the country, and on him they laid the cross, that he might bear it after Jesus. And there followed him a great company of people, and of women, which also bewailed and lamented him. But Jesus turning unto them said, Daughters of Jerusalem, weep not for me, but weep for yourselves, and for your children. For, behold, the days are coming, in the which they shall say, Blessed are the barren, and the wombs that never bare, and the paps which never gave suck. Then shall they begin to say to the mountains, Fall on us; and to the hills, Cover us. For if they do these things in a green tree, what shall be done in the dry?

I have come to the place where I realize any time Jesus asks a question, and after over 2,000 years, it is something that I likely can answer a little more now than what the daughters of Jerusalem who were living the horror of being witnesses to the death of Jesus Christ could answer all those years ago.

And you know what I have noticed? Christian people do not ask questions; indeed, and if you do they expect you to answer them their way or you are wrong. There are doctrines aplenty to prove you wrong.

You see, for 144 allegorical years, I did see what is being done in the dry tree. I did have compassion, and horror, and many tears, and much sufferings to witness what happens when they do these things to a dry tree. And I have stood in the gap of a good bit of it; I have walked among the fires, tears, winds, and waters of time in the spirit realms. And I do still.

I had a dream last night that I will not share; however, I was naked, in a pool, with others. And I felt very used there. So for the next twelve days as I pray for the last half day of two prophets who lie dead in the street as according to Revelation 11, I am going to write. That means I lie in the street with them. And it also means I know I’m dead. I know why I’m dead.


Understanding dawned slowly, being bound by blindness while a mercy did hurt. I was mortified each time some of the crustiness of the blindness was removed because I saw yet again how I had been left alone in a very scary place…naked in a pool of deep water watching the happiness of other people all around.

Now, it is like I have a yawning cave in my very torso….yet I still have a heart that beats, lungs that fill with air, eyes that see dimly, and ears that hear even when I don’t want them to. I still live.

The jokes and little plots people make up of “living dead”, “zombies”, “vampires” and the like mean nothing to me, and they are a slap in the face. Why play with evil when the truth is worse? Why make light of demonic torment when it is real enough to make you want to die? or run? or just hide forever until you die?

But there never was any place of hiddeness for me. I’ve felt like a raw nerve, an injury, a leper….and I waited to only wait some more and keep pondering. That is until I was so taken up with prayers for others who didn’t see, commiserate, or care that my pain grew worse and I learned to become numb to humanity. I have forgotten how to rejoice except for when it is a necessity of staying in the will of God while keeping on a path that is not so very pleasant and sometimes worse.

I wonder at the horror of war in real life? How do they survive after the reality when I barely survived the reality unseen?

It is a miracle, but I don’t like looking at it that way today so much. I don’t think, for these last twelve days, it is loving myself to protect others and put on a brave face. And I cannot cry very many tears anymore yet I sense there’s a wellspring of tearfully painful feelings behind the yawning cave of my existence that I cannot release. Why should I? It would hurt again. I don’t want to hurt again….or anymore. Yet I live and breath today in such a place as this, so I will hurt again. But no, I think I will rest easy and learn to stop looking at what I cannot change. I don’t need to pray for it anymore. That is good. Thank You Jesus, thank You Father, and thank You Comforter Holy Spirit. Your I AM Ministry to me is incomprehensibly complete, and YOU do see my pain. Thank YOU.

<a href=”″>An Empty Gift, Part Two</a>

214 An Empty Gift, Part Two
October of 2013

<a href=”″>One Woman’s Deep, Part One</a>

I see a gift box of cardboard. There is a ribbon, and it is strikingly red and wrapped around the gift with a two loop, simple bow.

Simplicity never has been enough.

The gift doesn’t have anything inside of it, the box is empty but wrapped up anyway. And it was laid upon a dirty street of New York City. The weight of blindness kept it sitting there for years.

And then the gift awoke and knew it’s emptiness. It knew it had not been understood, filled, or opened with expectation. So it began to bring forth of the emptiness anyway, and that made it move a little and so it would be hit by the tires of cars and batted about though no one ever ran over it.

Eventually, it came to rest in the gutter along the curb and by that time it was crushed. Strangely the bow never did get harmed. Just the shell was crushed from all the jumbling around on the street of emergencies, dire necessities, and damaging realities of the Twin Towers collapsing. There it sits, the bow adorning the crushed shell as it shivers in the wet and windy gutters of time.


There was this woman who was dancing on a solitary skating rink. The waters beneath her feet were frozen for a long while; she skated in great big circles, turning round, and occasionally crashing to the frozen floor.

Then the waters thawed and she walked upon them. It was a mercy from God to have such faith, and the Master watched her, smiled, and empowered her to skate still though the waters were a tumbling ocean in which she danced.

Occasionally, the woman would skate to rest in the Lap of the Unjust Judge who Sat there. She would stroke the Right Arm clasped against the Chest. She did share the Lamenting. She did comprehend the Fire of the Anger of God; she still does and it makes her despair for who can comprehend it?

Then she was exhausted and so her dance ceased, Jesus took her hand, and they went below. Lying there on the sandy floors of an ocean is a peaceful place but the emptiness of unheard painful songs and dances does haunt the quiet soul of the woman. But Jesus lies there, and they are facing each other. She sees His Eyes, and they are kind. He places His Hand upon her shoulder and beckons her to wait now too and trust Him.


But today, as her little obedience draws to an end, the woman went ahead and did get up and dance around Jesus. She walked anyway; she got wet again. There is much to praise Him for; the suffering of her kind can still be held up before the Throne even down there in the depths of the ocean.

For of a truth, the Master has shown her how emptiness can be simply beautiful. Crushed existence can be appreciated for what it is, but this woman is ruined in that place. She has determined as it is well put in Ecclesiastes: all is madness save the Creator. All is madness and they chose it too. Knowledge has come full circle, but it doesn’t make any sense at all like it didn’t in the beginning. I AM is the only Sense, it is obvious and they still don’t see it. And she has watched them not see it. She watched, waited, and was loved by God in such a way that she is undone.

This woman who skated for so short a long time realizes even being undone is meaningless without the shape of empty existence God made her, and she realized again how, say, the woman in a hut in Africa trying to survive or the man who cannot get a job so must suffer with the death of his family in famine are worth so very much more than she is or ever will be. There is a guilty disenchanted confusion with being an American. They who have real pain do mean more entirely than she ever did.

But somehow, she was privileged as she skated betimes while living normally how the Father was pleased with her whispering witness. And she fears, for she has seen the thunder, and the rains, come when He pleased as she kept walking.

So in her meaningless place this evening, and as the rain does fall heavy yet again, when the decision was made to keep praying anyway, there stood Jesus. He picked her up in His Arms and rose slowly out of the ocean depths and came upon the shores of the Throne Room.

“She is here, My Liege. She is choosing to pray here at the last.”

There is silence, Jesus stands waiting, and the woman is laid bare, dripping wet there.

She does not, nor will she ever, stir the Father to ask for zeal for herself. She is too empty and she fears God evermore. She knows she has seen sin; she knows she has seen so much horrible and despicable railings against this precious and impossible to comprehend Three Who is One yet the anger she has witnessed and felt and even sinned within herself yet repented has left her. There is nothing of it now because of the emptiness of humanity she realizes is there. We deserve it, every last bit of it, but yet Jesus Christ did come and take her up with Him for no worthy reason on her part. She realizes she is wanted somehow, somehow. And if she is wanted, so are all of them, all of them. There is no exclusivity in emptiness.

She pauses lying there in the Everlasting Arms. She recognizes the worth of purity, and how God is pleased with it. And she has been one such. That much of her emptiness she realizes God made so. And in that place is her greatest responsibility because she knows she can use it if she pleases because she did walk and not sin with them who led her. She did repent, too, and beg others to do it with her. Those of them who did walk circumspectly have a little voice God can hear this way even in their emptiness, that is the red simple bow that is not touched. It is human free will woven in some little vessels that comes out as a small living sacrifice of faith, hope, and love these three. So she pauses in this little place, and she decides she wants to beg the Father a different way today carefully.

She gets down from the Everlasting Strong Arms of Jesus, walks up the stairs dripping, and reaches the Face of the God Father. Jesus holds His Hand out and helps her up the steps.

With tears in her empty, inconsequential eyes, she does touch That Face then draw back. She rests a hand upon That Knee, and as a tear slips down her cheek she implores Him:

It is nothing, truly. Do forget it, please? Even Your Unjustness is Just. But my little pain is nothing, and I know You did hear me, oh I AM. YOU honored me with a hearing. YOU made this gift, empty as it was. YOU take pleasure in this emptiness somehow, thank You Jesus.

This wide, deeply small hidden place does not contain Your Anger but Your Vulnerability instead, Father. I testify to YOU how there is none of Your Anger here somehow. Oh I AM, Your Tears, Your Tears, Your Tears across Time……..we were too busy to see Your Tears. We saw so many of Your Facets, but we did not see Your Tears. It has wholly been a privilege to cry with You 144 allegorical years, and this woman is awakened anew at how You love it when some of us will cry with You forevermore. You love it, so I will stay here if it pleases You?

May she stir this Vulnerability of the I AM He privileged her to touch? Or must Your Anger still come forth for the injustices of Humankind against womanhood, and then manhood, that are living joyously careless in Your unfailing love or in the frolicking, sinful, and degrading happiness of temptations? We have seen it, YOU and I, yes. The woman knows not to deny the truths no matter how inconvenient. There is no bartering with God.

But as her Jesus did say, so will she: not my will, but Your Will be done with this emptiness, this miracle, this undone place of weeping YOU provided. And she falls again; at the Feet of God she will stay forevermore wholly nothing enough to be finally still.

I’m at Kerbey Lane sitting where my two oldest children and I sat in either 2015 or 2016; then I sat here in 2017 and saw deepest truths of hot despair in hell. It is all glory to GOD and in Jesus Name. Love ❤️ never fails. I go to worship now amen.



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

Powered by

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: