Jericho March Part Four

Key to Double Moons Part Three

190 Jericho March, Part Four
<a href=”″>Key to Double Moons Prayer Initiative, Part Three</a>

This article is back dated but edited as of October 7, 2013.

This is largely not edited, though. And I am not going to interpret what is here. Relevance can be gleaned from the part three of this series, so I suggest reading that article before attempting these written in allegory. Thank you for your consideration.

This is very long. I cannot cut it down because it is allegory that came under unction of the Holy Spirit a little at a time as I kept praying and allegorically traveling back to the march of the children of Israel around <b>Jericho</b>.

<center><b>~~~Circles of Love~~~</b></c>

July 19, 2013

I sit at this new computer desk and testify of ashes to ashes and dust to dust for twenty-four forevermore years. And this is the question I asked Lucifer this morning, “Exactly where is the Sting of Death, you Bastard Angel?” I walked in the blue black dawn of mourning for the first time that I can remember, and this question burst forth.

It happened after I walked the uppermost hill of this neighborhood and saw the most beautifully pink sunrise over Texas. All of a sudden, I couldn’t see the wander-lust of Lucifer so much though I have been required to gaze at his music five years. But I go now to my garden to burn some prayer lists that are wholly <b>Anathema</b> to me, and them, those of my family.

This garden is that one kept by my John the Baptist and me faithfully for our whole lives, and our dead siblings turn fifty. My children have helped me tend it; but I have been an unfaithful servant there many times and I ask forgiveness for it. So I go to burn seeds, two prayer lists, and an envelope which carried the eight transgressions of Esther Grace Coffey.

My son-in-law’s “Kitty” came to witness the flames of the fallen Esther Grace Coffey; and I was afraid. It is because Kitty can be nice, but then again, he can also scratch you when you least expect it; that hurts. Mary Hannah and Eara Abigail have been scratched, Tim has been bitten sorely, and Edith has persevered.

So I came into the house because I could not burn my husband’s faithful prayers, and the radish seeds. My fingers of the right hand kept getting burned, and it was muddy. I was viewing the mess of our lives. I will go to the stove now and make quick work of this second jar of hearts that will become ashes shortly.

Should I break the brown striped bowl that was the gift of my children because of its contents and testimony? No, no, I cannot break the pain of my life because it is that cross which has brought forth the Secret Place for me. I will place it and the unopened seeds into my mother’s pretty basket and set it all on the refrigerator top to remember. <i>{Later placed within the square ocean box in loving memory.}</i>

February 4, 1989, was a day of frozen glory, and Curtis Coffey married Cara Beaty so that our oneness could finally begin. On Saturday, July 20, 2013 the Coffeys will walk in Austin to tell the world that the diamond is on my finger and we love Love. I am hasty with spoken words, written thoughts, and invitations so I repent some more unto longsuffering, blue black silence.

February 27, 2013, dawned very early for me at 1:52 and 1:53 a.m. because the Lord desired to minister a new song to me. I had dreamed of a certain game of Monopoly and a little girl who brought it to us in my living room before I awoke. And then the horror of all horrors in my prayer life began again and Curtis despaired betimes because it is never enough. Brother Adam, he was there playing with me.

But on Friday, July 19, 2013, I awoke at 4:44 a.m. and inquired of the Lord what He would do with me at this early hour. And I took two crimson blankets, one crimson pillow, and my music to the floor at the feet of my slumbering husband. There I understood Ruth a little better, and Naomi too, and so I kept praying and waiting for the dawn to come again. (Brother Adam’s mother has a middle name of Naomi).

The Bonnie Lass who are my Azusa Street Sisters knows who I am and is protecting me against my own self sometimes. As I said, I have been too hasty because longsuffering is wholly not desirous to me due to pain, suffering, and many tears. I AM is pleased though patiently with me because perfection is not what I thought it was until First John became more clear.

Then I got up, put on my rainbow colors, and chose the black headband of ashes to ashes from my dresser to cover my head. And I walked in the beauty of darkest dawn with faithful Sammy who starved at the House of Insanity and Edith Renae fed her. She is the epitome of that man of God Moses, yet redeemed, who is so faithful in intents of the heart though a little distracted.

Tomorrow I will go an extra three miles joyfully because I know Michael and Gabriel need me to do it though I cannot understand. They are strong warriors of the King of kings, and king leviathan has tormented those angels betimes and they fight continually. King David and Judge Deborah faithfully serve, pray, and refuse to kill the king because that is not the work of humanankind in Christ Jesus forevermore.

Oh I know those who rejoice with me tomorrow as I wed my brother, my love, Curtis Edward Coffey because we love the Bride. Do not awaken my love until he pleases, this is what I see now. But the Dawn of Love has come to me and so my husband awakens. He searches for me, protects me, and takes me everywhere I need to go in his blue splendor, and Curtis Edward is gentlest of men.

I am hungry now so I will go drink my coffee and eat my peanut butter and jelly sandwich from my youth out of remembrance. My Mother is Mary Virginia, and she is so faithful the world is not worthy of her. She has fed me comfort and I thank her today. But I cry to remember how my Daddy suffers so, and he has watched all things of death and he yet praises the King of kings.

Esther Grace Coffey awoke to watch her cartoons, but she was curious of the smell of fire in the kitchen where my ashes sit. After I break this fast I will place those ashes on my bookcase and in the fifth windowless bedroom but not until my daughter awakes. Margaret Elizabeth testifies of the purity and passion of Jesus Christ and she will brook no evil in her dwelling place at all.

I know who is in my living room, and so I go today to clean my house. It is unruly; dirty; and a bit of a confused mess. But that is okay because I know how the ox is in my stalls and I rejoice in labor to keep the stalls of the King with my sisters. Tomorrow awaits in all of its splendor of love, rest, and prayers that I will carrie with me around a certain lake in Austin.

<i>In loving memory of Cara Beaty and her brothers and sisters across the world, and beyond. This is for Jude because he is not Judas Iscariot. Jesus and I have cried for Jude whom has suffered so much I will not write it. The horror is not beautiful; but it is Lovely.</i>

7/19/2013 1:11 p.m. <b><center>Part Five</b></c>

Patrick Stephen Coffey lost his white Volvo’s key in Zilker Park last week. And he had to drive my Volkswagon in the meantime. The $1200 costs him, but Patrick declares he will go into poor mode now. Though my son says he hates these people who have not served him well, I know it isn’t what my son says that is the truth. It is what he does that matters. Youth hampers him, but he grows in Jesus Christ miraculously as Eunice helps him love them anyway.

So off he goes today to the beach with Margaret Elizabeth and another sister in Christ. Tim and Edith will go tomorrow and frolic in the waves. My three oldest children have suffered much as has Timothy, and so I thank God for times of rest, laughter, and joy in the sands of time. This night, some daughters carrie a prayer burden while eating pizza, watching a movie, and giggling as teen girls do. And I will do my laundry in any number of ways tonight to prepare for the Dawn. <i>Some girls came to spend the night with our teen daughters, and their mother’s name is Carrie thus the play on words. This dear family was featured anonymously in my second book. They have moved out of state now, and we love them very much and appreciate their ministry to us.</i>

Bald is beautiful in all its bare mourning. Dr. Mikeal Love delivered Esther Grace and Robert Edward Coffey in full repentance though he said Ed could have been twelve pounds instead of eleven had I waited another week. Dr Vaughn helped my aching back today like her husband Dr. Edwards and my friend Dr. Shepherd have before. I see the Doctor Luke in all his glory today, and I know his love of the Christian women. But sometimes, the gore of battle overtakes the beauty of mourning. I can say today that I am learning how to cry in joy for Alpha Omega in these United States.

I think I need a blow torch tomorrow because there are a few more pieces of paper I need to burn so that I can forget. Curtis will get it for me, but I reckon he would rather use a flame thrower, this husband of mine whose anger has ceased in degradation betimes. He has given his family a sign so many times that I ache for the pain in my love’s life. So perhaps as we burn my lost Love’s letters tomorrow on our Circle Drive of black gravel, my husband will be set free of the bonds of family sin. And then Alva can rest in peace too.

I identify with Tamar, you see. For I have breached the contracts of my first dead husband Isaiah though it pained me sorely. And my prayer now is that Judah will recognize that woman who should be burned; yeah, or perhaps she should only be stoned as the Gentile prostitute that she is. Yet Jesus writes in the dust and says, “Go, oh daughter, and sin no more.” I go now; I sin less; and I love more. <i>{The Holy Spirit communicated to Cara by 10/2013 that Isaiah is not any longer dead in her new life after “Uncovered No More: comforted by the Holy Spirit” was made to be the blog on this website. She had to divorce herself from that prophetic unction of Isaiah for a time due to the torment in the second heaven that took her to this place of prayer witnessed in the Double Moons Prayer Initiative. Once it was over, she could be set aright again in the second heavens.}</i>

And perhaps one day the twin names written in my heart will come forth. Ryan is here now, though, and I love him so much. And then there is my Bar None Valentine who is a beautiful “blue” black boy. I care for them as I did the children of my youth. There is no <b>Anathema</b> in this heavenly place at all anymore, Hallelujah!! (5:32 p.m. on 7/26/2013 this note is added: Later in this series I wrote about the double full moons of a vision of mine and what is happening around those full moons. “Ryan” means “king”. And my daughter Margaret Elizabeth had <a href=”″&gt; a very distinct dream </a>a few weeks ago which caused her to be involved with this prayer initiative. She was given a hand written prayer list that is burned later in this series as a result of that dream. In it, I birthed a child named Ryan who she later picked up and comforted. First of all, it is duly noted that Curtis’s only nephew is Joseph Ryan, and secondly it is duly noted that the possible future king of England was born on July 22, 2013 on the night of the second of my full moons when I was distinctly praying and testifying this series.)

<i>Genesis 38:23-26 “ And Judah said, Let her take it to her, lest we be shamed: behold, I sent this kid, and thou hast not found her. And it came to pass about three months after, that it was told Judah, saying, Tamar thy daughter in law hath played the harlot; and also, behold, she is with child by whoredom. And Judah said, Bring her forth, and let her be burnt. When she was brought forth, she sent to her father in law, saying, By the man, whose these are, am I with child: and she said, Discern, I pray thee, whose are these, the signet, and bracelets, and staff. And Judah acknowledged them, and said, She hath been more righteous than I; because that I gave her not to Shelah my son. And he knew her again no more.”</i>

<i>Author Note: Edith and Tim did not get to go, and it is because a deliverance is still being wrought for them. I see it, I pray, and I wait on the Lord in their new marriage of joy.</i>

<center><b>Silent Wanderings</b></c>

July 20, 2013

4:44 a.m. found me at our black top driveway this morning, trying to light the little torch Curtis bought at HEB yesterday. I had placed those awful letters I had written since the last week of February, 2013 into a metal kitchen bowl that I have used for burning paper. There I stood, trying to hold the ignition button with my thumb while lighting the flame with another finger, but my hands are too weak. Curtis and Sammy were there, so I left Curtis sitting on the driveway burning my lost Love’s letters while I took my walk with Sammy. Curtis wouldn’t let me go in the dark; he gave me his head lamp. <i>(My Lost Love is the body of Christ across America whom I was completely separated from at this time though we were going to church every once in a while. Curtis and I were truly completely alone.</i>

God help me, that walk was awful and there were many tears. I don’t even know why I was crying, but I think there were perhaps four witnesses with me. One is Sammy, the other is Curtis Edward, and then there is my guardian angel whom I met some time ago in a dream. But this fourth witness I cannot know for sure; however, it is possible a man was walking at a distance behind me in prayer. He was very respectful and helpful as I cried my way through that figure eight of our neighborhood. I saw nothing but confusion, I listened to music, and I just took one step at a time. After that, I placed my hand on our cars: my parents’s red car, a sister in Christ’s Honda, Margaret Elizabeth’s white Oldsmobile that had been Lois Elizabeth Coffey’s last car, and then my dad’s old white truck. Strangely, Curtis had parked his car forward facing in our side driveway, and my van was parked backward facing behind his car. So I touched my husband’s blue Subaru and then touched my dark grey VW Routan. I laid my head there, and I cried.

5:44 found me standing before the Unity Candle of my daughter’s wedding that sits on my dresser. Curtis witnessed the time for me. He had come into the house as I was walking and placed the ashes of those letters into a square pretty shell box that Edith bought for my birthday a year or two ago. I cannot remember. It is lined with a soft white felt, and now that beauty is stained with the ashes of my degradation. This box is on my bookshelf in the dining room. Curtis finished the ashes and then anointed all four walls of our bedroom, the living room, and the dining room with olive oil. So we were ready, the Candle had been burning since before 4:44, and then our prayers were lifted up. I came against that Witch Jezebel who is spoken in Revelation 2. She was removed from 78736 and sent to the abyss in Jesus’s Name.

I was exhausted at this point, so I asked Curtis if we could go back to sleep. And we did. Thank God for restoration in the meantime. I truly know what it means to live within Psalm 23, and that is where I stayed during this whole time. But there was another biblical passage that was coming forth at this point that I will end this piece with this morning. I cry now, and Kiss the Rain by Yiruma is playing. I have kissed the rain, you see. I have kissed the fire, the wind, and the storms. And I have said, “Here am I, Lord, send me.” He honored me, He did send me. And during my walk I only could remember how much largess I had wasted. I could only remember the un-profitable-ness of my service; the many times I did not trim my lamp; and the talent I kept to myself and did not invest for the kingdom of God on this earth. Oh I AM, please forgive me. Please forgive me. I ask one more time, please forgive me. Before these prayers came forth, I had laid on a clean dog blanket in front of our fish tank, you see. I laid there as the Canaanite Woman again. <i>(I had learned the appeal process according to the Canaanite Woman in the Bible and wrote of it in volume one of “Uncovered No More”.</i>

6:44 a.m. saw me awaking from my short nap, and by this time I knew I was known so perfectly it is incomprehensible. But before I fell asleep the second time, I realized I had not addressed Leviathan the same way I had addressed Jezebel. I pondered it and thought I AM would protect me and have the men of God in my life, the witnesses of my degradation, come against that Bastard king. But that was not what happened. So now, I must enter into numeric prophecy for a moment and testify accurately so that it can be understood what happened to me. When I looked at the time after my short nap, it was 6:44 that turned into 6:45. I saw both times. And that means that the “six” of my life saw a new beginning and judgment beginning in the House of God in the same moment.

The other thing that happened before I took my nap was that I placed the pocket of my painful prayers along with a rusty screw and bracket that I had found in the kitchen before my walk into the shell box, along with my black head band. Then I fell into that restorative slumber, awoke and witnessed the times, and let Val out of his crate. Val is my standard poodle puppy, and he is the one that awakened Curtis and me around 4:01 this morning because he needed to go potty, poor fellow.

There I was again, just like that early morning in a late month of 2008 (as the Holy Spirit brought Second John to me the first time). I grabbed our New King James One Year Bible and sat on the couch just like I had done with my brother’s Bible in my insane degradation in 2008. And with Leviathan’s army in my living room, I read Second John again but out loud this time. Second John is written on December 6 for the One Year Bible. And therefore, since I went ahead in time as I am allowed to do as a gatekeeper, I read Second John on December 6, 2013, again, and in my living room while the Bastard king who has tormented me across four generations listened. But this time, I know who I am, and I know I AM taught me who I am for forty years. So I prayed that last prayer, in my living room while the sweat of my seventh walk in a figure eight was drying in my hair and body, and I addressed king Leviathan for this nation, and the world. December 6, 2013 is a digit pattern of 6-6-6-6. In addition, Second John has one chapter, and it is of thirteen verses. So Second John 1:1-13 is a pattern of 2,013 in the chapter and verse reference. As it is written, so I pray let it be done. In Jesus’s Name, Amen.

<i>Psalm 23:5-6 “Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.”</i>

<b>I state boldly, as I stand before the Throne of God: I cry now, and I know why I cry at least a little bit because I found October Baby’s theme song this morning on my Spotify, and it is playing right now. God be praised, and the fact that the government of Texas just passed a law of balance for women the past two weeks is testimony to what I write. Thank you, Chris Sligh, for singing “Broken (Beautiful)” to me this morning. Your praises, and mine, rise up in the Early Dawn of my New Day, and our tears of prayers are numbered oh people of I AM, every first and last one.</b>

<center><b>~~~My Sonrise~~~</b></c>

July 20, 2013

11:11 a.m. was my companion, yet again, as I texted my friend that I would bring her daughters home. I told her after I’d showered then I could bring them by 12:30 or so. And I thanked her because this is the dear woman who carried a prayer of blessing for Edith Renae Coffey-Moore on Thursday, July 18, 2013 in the way of a wedding shower. She rejoiced with us even though I have testified against her brothers and sisters in Christ so many times that I should remain outcast forevermore.<i>This is the Carrie I testified earlier. It was so prophetically sweet how her lovely daughters wanted my crimson blankets to sleep with as they spent the night. I am comforted to say we all love those crimson blankets nowadays that I used to lie on the floor in repentance for this nation and the world in some ways.</i>

But, I never got to say good-bye. And that dawned on me when, after my shower, this dear lady informed me that her children who loved the comfort of my crimson blankets had already left for she picked them up. And I never got to say good-bye so I cried bitter tears yet again in my somber widow’s weeds under the window of cleansing in my bedroom. Oh my knees, they ache for having knelt bare there so many years as my life passed by and I never got to say good-bye. I cry now to remember, but no tears fell finally though I flooded my husband’s grief this morning, and he is weary indeed of his wife’s journey.

But the Dawn approached, so I got ready. I wore black with pink underneath, and my black is full of all the colors I like best. There were pearls, though they are not real yet because my 61 pieces of searching for the Treasure of life need to be re-strung, and so I will some day pay that $7.50 per inch and get my pearls back. Perhaps, just perhaps, I can have them for my twenty-fifth wedding anniversary when poppies in blue will bloom for me.<i>(I will not get the pearls back for I gave them away to the body of Christ across America which is testified later in this series in the conclusion.)</i>

Curtis parked at a parking garage of the Capitol City Complex because he is a state employee and allowed the privilege on weekends. And we walked, my husband of my youth and I, to the corner of Colorado and 13th Street. We sat under an umbrella of crepe myrtle with bright pink flowers ablaze, and we read the Bible together as our vows.

Curtis Edward read First John, then I read Second John. Then Curtis Edward read Third John after which I read Jude. Then my vow dawned upon my conscious thought, so I timidly spoke it to the husband of my youth and he spoke his approval of my vow before I AM. But it was with one boundary of death, you see, for the new ashes sitting atop the old ones on my bookcase. It is no burden to me now, this vow. That is because it is carried silently within the secret place of my bookcase and not in the intimate place of my notebook. Thank God, there is that place of freedom with boundaries in tact.

Then, that husband of my youth put the ring on my finger under the shade of the State of Texas. And all of a sudden, my husband Curtis Edward Coffey became that father of her jubilee who is the husband of my older days that are new. But I do not feel that we understand enough what the Apostle John meant when he wrote to the elect lady that sentence of Second John 1:12. No, I do not think we understand that face to face concept so very well at all. But perhaps it is time, for many of us do understand what the Apostle Paul said in First Corinthians 13 when he spoke of not fully understanding until we are Face to face. It is my faith, and my hope, that the writings of love from the Apostle John and that book of Jude written by our Brother Paul will forevermore be understood more fully now because our dreams, they need to come true with the gold blade of the Double Edged Sword of the Word of God.

My October Baby of the wilderness walked with me under the rainbow of promises in Austin, Texas tonight. I matched the skies with my rainbow tunic, and I could hear yellow butterflies aflutter tonight. Curtis prayed for rain; we ate; and then we walked in the answered prayers all around our feet. Curtis Edward wore black though his eyes are blue, and his visions are lovely to behold though his wife still had to cry on the way home because her Sonset remembers too much, and she realizes that the Robert of her life must rest peacefully before a final glimpse can heal her broken heart. She sees now; there never is the final tear wiped away until some time after the Sonset. And her October Baby Edith, born twenty-two years ago last year on the twenty-eighth day reminded her tonight that her brother died on September 28 thirty-three years ago, and she never said good-bye. Oh God help me, I never said good-bye. I deserted my brother, and I never kissed him good-bye. The grave, it swallowed my brother up, and he never returned to say good-bye. I was left alone, all alone, and my brother went away. There is a part of me that is always alone, but I am blessed because though it is not good for man to be alone, it is sometimes good for me because the despair of loneliness satisfies my soul.

Oh my cousins, the brothers all around me, will you not console the tears of my bleeding heart? Will you not help me seal up the tears of the life of your sister, Eve of old, who weeps betimes because she was first in the transgression? She saw that 6-6-6-6 at the end of her extra three and a half miles today; she saw it in her Sonrise and in her Sonset, and then she cried again and my Love knows those tears, all of them. This is my one understanding; it is my Only Consolation; that He allows my tears because their precious sentiment draws Him closer to me forevermore. Emotions are for the weak; and I am weak tonight, ever so weak. To kiss the tears is to swim in the Ocean of Love, with all its deep splendor and unknown darkest mysteries. My weakness is made weaker tonight because I cry and I am not ashamed. I am in the middle of that perfect storm of love, and I guess I must admit it: I don’t want out anymore for I am consumed by the Everlasting Arms. I will cry, my Lord, I will cry if it will console You even a little bit. I can cry a little longer in this night. For behold, we will try not to fall asleep this time my Lord Jesus. We will try to stay awake and watch for Your coming again. Forgive us, oh Jesus Christ, please forgive us; and I ask one more time please will You forgive us? For we slumber when we ought to watch and wait anew each mourning.

<center><b>~~~Weeping in Knowledge~~~</c></b>

July 21, 2013

3:33 a.m. came, and it went, because I cannot move past March 12, 2013, when I began to weep for him who is that brother-in-law that cannot remember. He suffered because of the Alva of his life who was born on June 15 eighty years ago in 2013 who was the father that covered my shame. And then again, he was born on March 12, 2001. I will wait for his dawn too, this only brother-in-law of mine. And I will not desert him in the darkness of death though he has not labored as he should have. He worked, yes, but then he asked the Master, “Why was my wage the same when I labored longer in the Hot Son?” I will remember my brother-in-law of bondage though I should walk off. Yes, I should walk off and forget. <i>(My brother-in-law had a terrible accident in September 2008 ten days before I was almost driven insane and the ministry of Uncovered No More began to come up out of obscurity. He is named in the first name “Alva” just like our sixth son Alva Richard. I had prophesied his near death to his wife about a year and a half before I became a gatekeeper, but I didn’t know it and she stumbled on what I prophesied. In addition, I have handed two men over to Satan for the destruction of the flesh unknowingly in my prophetic life and my brother-in-law, painfully, was one of them on a private level. There are valid reasons for this, but we didn’t find out about those reasons until 2013, again, painfully. My husband and his family are estranged now except we do have some contact with his mother. It was for her protection and mine that she was moved out of state in 2009 on Curtis’s birthday.)</i>

In the white van I spoke this weeping. I told the brothers that my suffering was not to be compared with theirs if they were separated. At least my brother is in that heavenly realm of mystery watching with us all on the earth. He is not here in the pain, suffering, and blood of the water, blood, and witness. So I am unsure….whose suffering have I wept for more, mine or his? Esau He hated, and Jacob He loved, and who can know the Mind of God? My love did not arrive until one o-clock this morning as I was sleeping in weeping knowledge. That Kemosabe came in, and he had laughter with Dorothy Ann, Mary Hannah, Alva Richard, and Eara Abigail in the earliest of dawns with Tonto. <i>(This means they went to see “The Lone Ranger”.)</i>

I did not awaken my love this morning but sat on the couch and waited for the 3:33 of my mourning. It is that time almost for the second though lesser full moon, and I will pray this morning so I don’t have to weep for him too; yeah, I should leave him in his degradation but I cannot because please, dear Father, may I ask of You that stone, and snake? For I will take them and throw them back to the fathers who were ignorant in their sin as they slept with their wives, their sisters, in silent and pure darkness. They did not weep, you see, yet I remember the World Wars and realize they could not weep because of horrors that fell down to the earth for those awful years. And the brothers, they worked feverishly from the West in their silent sin in order to free Richard from his Israeli distress. In so doing, we prepared a place for him to be able to move out of so much suffering and find rest for his soul of broken bones and pain beyond belief for fourteen years running. <i>(This is concerning Richard Wurmbrand of Voice of the Martyrs, whom our sixth child is named after in the middle name.)</i>

I know Jericho fell all those years ago. I have decided to go around my Jericho eight days, with three and a half miles added in. But Curtis, he said no he would not let me walk eight times around my eight in one day, and I will obey him. But I can sit here for a moment and remember the 3:33 of my life, the twice spoken “Richard” in the night watches of my life in Alabama, and that brother-in-law who hated my soul though he didn’t know it. I fell down at his place, and his elect woman didn’t know what to do with me; they never do. They are trying, but there is too much sin in their sight so knowledge chokes their Love betimes, and they weep or they go to their widow’s weeds in ignorantly blissful, lazy sin. Ah, this is she who is Rachael who weeps because her children are no more, but she has done it in comfort betimes. <i>(Isaiah 32)</i>

Babylon, oh Babylon, I will not weep for the destruction of your walls though I can weep for the souls who love you too much. Ill placed compassion does not fit me very well, and the Apostle John says there is some sin for which I should not pray at all. I will obey him now too, and I trust the I AM to know the proper prayers to pray at the proper time and the proper place. I will go slumber again now. It is four o-clock in the mourning, and I think I will see if I can slumber past the 4:44 of my life in that knowledge which is being purified by watching and waiting. Then, I will arise to the new dawn again and walk, but I will break my fast this time and not disobey my husband in heart because he tires of my weeping and pain rightfully so. I am weary of watching the sons and daughters of God persecute themselves with starvings, gluttony, and all else of idolatry. But in that place, they serve the prince of the world and not the I AM Who is the Creator of the Universe, and I will not pray for them because my love says not to. Instead, I will leave them to I AM and His Precious Love betimes where I imagine His Soul is tormented forevermore in multiplied fashion that I dare not comprehend lest I be slain by the true reality of it. I AM is bound by the rainbow though He wished to destroy them beforehand.<i>(This is prophetic unction proof of <a href=”″>Revelation 12</a> about which I write later on this blog to identifying with the woman therein.)</i>

I will pray for Cain, Esau, and Judas Iscariot but only if they have not blasphemed our Comfort and Consolation Holy Spirit who comforts betimes that comforter who is the mother of I AM’s children who sinned treacherously in purest knowledge. That last, she has been first in the most awful way. But I will <b>never</b> pray for those who blaspheme the Comforter forevermore. Instead, I will agree with the weeping of Jesus now and trust my Love, but not my will be done, oh Father:

<i>Matthew 23:37 & 38: “O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, thou that killest the prophets, and stonest them which are sent unto thee, how often would I have gathered thy children together, even as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings, and ye would not! Behold, your house is left unto you desolate.”</i> In Jesus’s Name, Amen.

7:11 a.m. is when I awoke from my deepest darkest night of royal prayers. {I witnessed 7:11 a.m. on 7/22/2013 as well, and that was 24 hours this time; there is much I realized by then as I continued to wear my heart on my left hip.} I wore my heart on my left hip; now it is time to tell of that wakeful dream I had that day years ago when I mopped the upstairs living room on my hands and knees. I saw President George Bush mopping up the blood of the babies, and then I saw this thick damnable wall of dark grey stone, but it was not as dark as my VW Routan that I drive now. It was close, though. And there were the sober remnant saints standing on dry land, and they witnessed this atrocity of a damn silently. Blood was on the other side, and it was about one inch, maybe a little more, below the top. And now I ask which mother <i>really wants to kill her child?</i> No matter where we live the world over, we don’t want to kill them. Rachael, she weeps the world over because they are no more.

And then I remember how the Apostle John married Virginia last year after many years of suffering, so much suffering. The Apostle John said, “Please Mom, Don’t Break my Heart”, but she did. And she loved her hate. That pure man of God forgave her, testified, and moves on to fight with every breath he breathes those people who should definitely have a millstone tied around their necks so they can be cast into the Sea because it is better that they had never been born. And I asked again though it pained me, I asked which of my brothers suffered the most? Was it Richard Wurmbrand or John Borgstedt? These questions are too deep, and I do not answer them because only I AM knows. Suffering, it seems to me this morning, has come, or shortly will come, full circle. But I don’t like that because suffering is not a circle. It is an abomination that is square but calls itself a triangle. <i>(I am speaking of Lucifer here.</i>)

I drank full caffeine this morning though I rarely do, but I had decaff when I broke my fast with a piece of peanut butter and jelly toast as I watched 4:44 and 4:45 come and go. My battery was recharged as I slept again, and it is at one hundred percent but I am not; yeah my time has come again; I will walk alone in this new day because it is good for me to be alone sometimes. Please God, your little daughter asks that as she walks this morning, please may I not be scared of the dogs who growl and bare their teeth at me? Please God for the sake of righteous Noah, and unrighteous Lot, may I walk this last valley of the shadow of death without the fear that so easily entangles me?

And now, here at the end of my writing, I will testify of one other vision I had as I walked down the greatest hill here on Weir Loop in Austin, Texas. There were two apostles whom I called for help, you see. And they answered my phone. I was crying and afraid because the bear, she came to me. I was on a high mountain top, and I didn’t know where to go because I have never been there. I have never been there but I was there though I really didn’t understand how it could be so; I never do. And I was deathly afraid for the bear had already eaten my child; and her cub and she ran out the door of the American Ministerial Complex that day. So here she was again, and I was walking desperately. But that is when this bear turned sweet that day, and my lamb (Cara Ann) sat under a tree and petted the mother bear who had tormented my family four generations ago. I am still shocked by this vision, and I don’t know what it means but I am happy to remember it now as I walk alone in this midnight of faith, hope, and love these three. <i>(This wakeful dream was on a walk in this neighborhood, and it was Brother Adam whom I had called. Any time I had a dream with Brother Adam, I went back in and ushered him off the property and out of the neighborhood while telling my husband to keep my conscience safe.)</i>

I changed my mind as I am wont to do sometimes. My little king will go with me, that Valentine of my husband’s heart whom Edith named, because he is eager to go with me. And I forgot how my Lydia Joy Coffey turns nine in two days. We celebrate her birthday as the second lesser moon dawns, and I see the joy of Lydia coming forth for you see, she wants to go fishing and so her daddy is going to purchase her a fishing rod soon so she can practice with Alva Richard and Eara Abigail Coffey. They love to laugh, my children, though they pray steadfastly and Eara asked not long ago, “Why do I have to be the first lady president?” This question was too deep for me, and I cannot discern it, but I must testify how she said so. There was confusion in her eyes, you see. It is because the pain of her mother will remind her how Eve ate the fruit, and it has been continually vomited out of her mouth for forty-seven years. Is it not for daughters, Oh King Solomon? Is it not for daughters to rule? I go now, but never alone. I never was though I ask forgiveness because though my Lord says He never leaves me or forsakes me, I didn’t believe Him. Oh Jesus, please forgive me in my worst degradation; please would You forgive me in my worst degradation? Oh Father, please forgive me for I didn’t know what I was doing.

And my final testimony is this: I forgave God because He let me do it one day some time ago. He is that Humility that is Incomprehensible enough that Perfection comes in Lowliest Form and weeps with the Daughters of Jerusalem though He really has no reason to weep because He is with the Father again. Whose Tears are most Precious? Oh I know the answer to this one because it is not ever deep enough: I AM, Your Tears are Precious to Eve, and Adam. Your Tears are so precious I will not write any longer for a space of time again because I am silenced by the Sound of All Silence……

<center><b>I AM WEEPING</b></c>

**It is duly noted that I watched my phone time turn to 3:33 p.m. today and my phone battery was at 77 percent this time. Another twelve hours are represented in this blog article as well. We are sitting in my dark gray VW Routan in the parking lot of Cabela’s in Buda, TX, because we just bought Lydia Joy her pink fishing rod, my sandals, and some worms for tomorrow’s fishing. It was exactly $65, and I told my love that he vanquished the 6-6 of my life with that purchase so the receipt went in my shell box as the Rose of Sharon that it represents to me. It rained while we were in Cabela’s. Both Curtis and I wished it because it was hot as we walked in with <b>Hallelujah!</b> being sung by a sister of mine unknown over the air waves. I begin to understand a little bit that the latter rains speak of Tears Unknown. They are gentle, washing, and purely white. At least, that is how I see them this day as I have all week while I wept my way to this point in writing. Oh, and one last detail: I put the white of my parents’s fiftieth wedding anniversary on to go with my Lydia who was born in Joy and delivered by Mary those nine years ago while my brother(s)’s sister Barbie did her best to hold the torment off of me. Thank you, Barbie, from the bottom of my heart today. You saved both Brother Adam and I as we worked feverishly to keep Jezebel at bay in Austin, Texas. You saved us in more ways than you will ever know while Judge Mrs. Third John wept her way through repentance as well as she wrote a book. We sisters don’t always understand each other all the time, but we certainly work well together until That Day.

How I had to strike my sisters and brothers of Christ in America is the <b><i>Tear (Tare) of Time</i></b> I will soberly carry until all tears are wiped away. Oh Lord Jesus, I say in tears of dawning joy, oh Comforter God, Oh Father of Time and Eternity, how I long for That Day.

6:06 p.m. (7/22/2013): I just now put a couple of more details in this blog article, and before this I had napped. I am so tired it is beyond words unexplainable. And I don’t know what to do about the Proverbs 31 Woman blog articles I have written, you see. {Those blog articles were deleted because I had to repent for being hasty with that decision of getting a job, and I cannot know if I am supposed to get a job yet so it isn’t time.}

But did you know I’ve never seen 6:06? And I didn’t see it until after I put June 15, 2013 details into this piece. That is 6-6-8 because my father-in-law should have turned eighty this year. Alva Lewis Coffey’s sixtieth year was the year of his death, and so it was a 6-6-6. My father-in-law carried the “six” of my life ever before I was born. He sat on the curb at the age of six and waited for the mother of his youth who left, and she was a twin. Her name was Velma Palmer (just as there is a Palmer Park in Colorado Springs, CO), and Zelma was her sister. They were strange sisters is what I heard, and Al had to keep a distance from his mother because she was a vagabond.

And that Jacob of my life, that Joseph, is his second son and my husband who told me seven days before my brother died twenty-eight years before that the title of my book was going to be “Uncovered No More”. I don’t think my love would have uttered that title if he’d known what his wife was going to have to live through to write this today, but what we both didn’t know until today is that Daddy Alva was covering us in prayer in the heavenlies. I was born, to the day, sixty years after the Azusa Street Revival began. And my love of this life, my father-in-law, was born eighty years to the day one week before Curtis’s oldest child wed Timothy on June 22, 2013, which was a Super Moon. There is never enough time to tell the Tale of Love, and that is a good thing. Because then, you see, we speak forevermore of eternity betimes.

As I walked this morning, I saw 9:09 a.m. and I don’t think I had seen that point blank either until today. But this is my point: <b>Thank God, Yes I thank our God Father Creator, that there never is 6:66 or 9:99 in time. There never is. And I suppose it is not possible for His elect to fall. He created it that way despite the storms of time, and I just glimpse yet again that perfection of prophecy all around me. I could write until I died, and that story wouldn’t be told how all Creation worships. Come now, oh people of the world, will you not see how it is so?</b>

10:00 p.m. on July 22, 2013, finds me sitting in our old Coleman camping chair on our drain field. There sits my second full moon, and Eara Abigail just came to say goodnight. My brother Adam, that one who has borne as much shame in America as I have with our spouses, he bowed his shoulders in agony one day as he viewed the drain field of nightmares that had to reside in America for such a season as this, and I prayed for him and all my brothers in Christ today in this nation. But tonight, I gaze at a most beautiful moon as soft breezes whisp around me. Our pain cannot be compared at all to the Glory to be revealed. I know this, and I will not laugh as my sister Sarah did years ago. I will learn from Mother Sarah, and I will soberly smile while waiting to see even more miracles rise from the darkness forevermore. With God, all things are possible and made new.

1:02 through 1:11 a.m. on July 23, 2013, our little Jasmine came to me, the mother kitty whom Edith picked up on the side of 290 while she starved to death, and she kissed my foot. Dorothy Ann’s Baloo had awakened me though that naughty boy didn’t need to potty. He just wanted to snuggle with his fairest love instead of hang out in the crate. Aw well, another reason to view my full moon to pray is what I would have wanted anyway. And to have Fair Jazzie greet me with a kiss was well worth the price. My moon stood atop our house almost exactly in the middle, and can one ever walk off those of family? No, no we can’t. We can walk on for seasons, but never off. I wish, oh yes I pray, that those Towers of Babel, may come crumbling down in humility some day.

<b>It was this writing that told me I needed to do another eight day walk of the figure eight in this neighborhood, which is the fifth blog article of this series now. I was so exhausted it is unimaginable, and so was Curtis. But Jesus Christ carried us. Yes, He did.</b>

<a href=”″>Tower of Babel, Part Five</a>



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