Tower of Babel Part Five

Jericho March Part Four

191 Tower of Babel, Part Five
uly 23, 2013

<a href=”″>Jericho March, Part Four</a>

Today is my daughter Lydia Joy Coffey’s birthday, and she went fishing yesterday with Richard, Eara, Essie, and Edward. Daddy watched, baited hooks like he always does, and took pictures. All of them caught fish. Edward’s was the smallest, and first, fish caught. Richard caught the largest fish. Eara caught the most long suffering one though her new “mood” necklace turned black with the determination of it. Dearest Eara, my fearless companion in seeing, she grabs the upper level demonic forces and prays them out with her mama. And dearest Essie, I am so glad she caught fish yesterday after having gone through the last six years of turmoil in her sight. I look forward to seeing her write down what she actually sees because it will help me know the miracles on this property, and in the world, that much more.

And my nine year old Lydia Joy of the second moon? She is that fair maiden who represents Job’s Daughters receiving their inheritance in the United States of America. Come, oh daughters of America, let us go fishing with Lydia today.

I watched 5:15, 6:06, 6:12, and 6:15 a.m. come and go this mourning. And I type for the last time for a while. This time, I get to say goodbye and it is not farewell but a gentle wave of the hand because I will be back. Most assuredly, I will be back. But today, I find that these hands need a rest as does this mind that perceives time and numbers in a way I’ve never done before. Watching and praying are my “job” now, and it is full time. But isn’t it so with you, oh brother and sister of Christ in the world? Yes it is. This question I can answer with certainty betimes. <i>(Please read any “goodbyes” of this article, and others, as the Holy Spirit communicating an end to me. I would get rest a little bit and then have to get back up and keep at it. It is now October, and denaturing the website as well as putting this series up will throw me into a more definite rest for a bit. Honestly? Neither Curtis or I are over the last five years. We understand long suffering a little bit more now.)</i>

I have been weeping with I AM for quite some time. I had a wakeful dream early this year some time where I AM was sitting with His Sore Right Hand clasped against His Chest, and I wrote a poem about it that is somewhere on this blog. I was skating on the frozen ocean of America, and my robes were rainbow colored. At other times, I was sitting in the Lap of I AM and stroking the Arm from Psalm 74, anointing It with my tears. That psalm’s number is the reciprocal of my age, you see. And now, I can say I know what it is to eat the bread of king leviathan in my living room that was a wilderness.

“So is the army still here?” This was the weary question of my knight in Shining Armor this morning, that love who put a ring on my finger this weekend.

“No!” And this I could answer with certainty. No, my love and I ate leviathan with a side of jezebel this weekend faithfully together, and we rejoiced in weeping though I will admit there were a few discussions we had to have. It has been a very long twenty-four years. And then again, it has been a very long forty years. And again, it has been a very long thirty-three years all wrapped up in my 47 year life. But His grace is ever sufficient for me. <i>(My readers will notice right after this how I came to a sum of “144” that mimics 144,000 in Revelation. This is prophetic testimony toward the walk where I saw the math, and again, I cannot say how much work and exhaustion is within this blog article. You do not get math glimpses as I testify occasionally without a lot of work in the second heaven. I likely wrote this right before the walk though I cannot remember now. I inserted the bold piece in later, so I had already written other things which now are farther down.)</i>

<b>8:55 a.m. saw me coming in from my first walk, explained below. I wore a white hat this time, and I got hot so I took it off some of the time. And on the high hill, I took my hat off and was neither male or female to the angels, you see. I then stopped at the sign and rested a minute as I pulled my phone out to do some math on the calculator. And that is when I realized why I couldn’t finish my peanut butter and jelly sandwich this morning because I was sick to my stomach. Here is the math of my life: 47 years of natural life is what is seen in the flesh. 40 years of spiritual life because I was saved at the age of seven. 33 years of chains around my neck and demonic oppression within my body because the wife of that man who married Curtis and me told me she saw chains around my neck. She also told me that every other sentence of mine was Bible. I pondered these things many years until this morning at the stop sign at Vikki Terrace and Michael Dale. And then, 24 years of marriage which started at that place having relevance with slavery of them: 47 + 40 + 33 + 24 = 144 years old. No wonder I’ve felt like I lived a ton of lifetimes. And you see, I know what it means to have one year equal one thousand of them because I understand a little bit now exactly who the 144,000 of Revelation is talking about. But I suppose I need a little help there because it is too deep for me to discern. But this I know: Adam was first in the transgression this time, and I am going to go upstairs to my daughter Margaret Elizabeth Coffey’s bedroom and pour the olive oil on my dresser upon his ashes. I think I’ll put a little on his forehead too because that ministry’s materials came on the dawn of the second moon so they are sitting there. Carrie in OK e-mailed me the same day I got the package, and she carried his degradation to my doorstep in all it’s ugly splendor. Oh Brother Adam, I am so sorry I couldn’t explain it to you enough. I am so sorry, for I know your pain at the beginning was greater than mine in this one thing because I was the one blessed with the beauty of the curse upon Satan, that Dragon of Old, who is cursed with enmity with Eve, your little sister. And I know that you have had to watch your sister this time though you didn’t know her. You have had to watch her be tormented openly by all that is Satan with your eyes wide open for 47 years. And now I ask that final question that I never have known? Whose degradation was worse? Neither, you see. For we all need the Blood of the Lamb in all our places for that precious fellowship with I AM we are privileged to see.</b> <i>(The remorse you see here is because I was on a prophetic path of declaring <b>First John</b> unbeliever with a vow in place. That ministry would not converse with me and I was forced to do what I did. I never did want any prayer lists, you see. I still weep inside and despair in October due to the happenings on this blog in 2013.)</i>

I am beginning another eight walks of the figure eight today, and I am not going around Jericho this time. I am going around the Tower of Babel instead. Perhaps Curtis will be able to take me to Town Lake or Bee Cave this weekend, but if not, that is okay. My steps are numbered, as are yours oh people of the Nations, every bit as much as our hairs are. This is what I know. This is what I am in awe concerning this morning as I get ready to go begin again.

I will come back some time after September 30, 2013, because that is when my United States Prayer Initiative will be finished. Although, I reckon I may do a final prayer initiative somewhere around December 6, 2013, just for the sheer (shear) joy of it. It will be a privilege hard to explain after viewing the two full moons of my life the past two months. Call me strange because I am. But now, I don’t have to hold in my visions, dreams, and love language. I can let it out freely. There is no more “holding it in” for me because who can stop expressing love for I AM? I was prevented betimes. But I am Uncovered No More in this place, and that is who I am.

I may not type, but I will write because my love letters to I AM cannot be stopped. I have my trusty ink pen and notebook and I will write for my LORD while I keep house for my lord. I thought about getting a job the past months, but I had to remove those blog articles and ask forgiveness of the Lord. I also strangely thought about changing my last name to Beaty-Coffey. This, all of it, was a final attack from Mr. & Mrs. Jezebel-Leviathan. It hurt, that attack. My torso is tired too. My eyes are tired from crying. My feet are sore, but I am taking care of myself now.

And you see, I will not enter into the death of Beaty-Coffey anymore. And I will not go into the curse of work that is on my husband. My labors of love are free-flowing though I do worry about our bills. But my goodness, why? It is because we will always have the poor with us and so I must come back to earth and help my husband pay bills.

But does my choosing not to make money make me any less of a Proverbs 31 woman than my working counterpart? I guess not. But I don’t “know not” yet because I have always felt so degraded as a housewife. I have always felt like life just passed me by, and it did. But ah well. I won’t live in my husband’s curse. I will live in mine in joy now with less sorrow. And if I go to work, I think I want to go back to being a secretary. I just need to wait until the proper time if the Lord tarries and it is His will for this little daughter.

And my crimson blankets? I laid on my crimson bed twice the past twenty-four hours with my husband’s crimson blanket slung over me. My weary head laid on my crimson pillow. There was perfect warmth in that place beside my husband, and perfect rest. And after this deep and perfect rest, I saw how those eunuchs, of the will of man, needed my prayers and I prayed for them betimes. I have prayed for them all my life while my daddy Robert Hilton Beaty, Jr. lost the son of his youth and has wept for the sin of cutting off his seed ever since. Who can understand the “why” of death in the Love of all Loves instead of the depths of Satan? Only the the Father KNOWS ALL THINGS HEAVENLY. Oh Father God, would you please forgive the stone throwing sin of the Christian Nation of the world? And I ask again, would You please forgive us for not understanding how even evil, it worship You constantly as the created element it is? Oh Father, this is a worst degradation and abomination of Christians world and time wide: we judge when the Judge is only HE WHO KNOWS.

This I know: I am wrapped in the Blood of the Lamb in all my places, all of them. Will you not consider wrapping yourself in the Crimson Blanket of Purest Love, oh people of the Nations who are not yet His Own? I beg you…..consider resting in that Secret Place of the Most High Who is Jesus Christ that came in the Flesh for YOU.

I said goodbye so many times the past five years. I wanted to take my hand off this plow of a ministry so many times. And here I am, finally saying goodbye but only for a short season. What have I learned for the two years and twenty weeks of this website? A good many things I have learned, but what I begin to realize a wee bit more: I am KNOWN. May my writing tell the people of the world, all of you no matter what race, creed, gentile, or jew; may my writing tell you that <b>YOU ARE KNOWN</b>.

I love you oh Nations of the World. I love you forevermore that is the Moonlight until the New Dawn when our Jesus Christ comes riding back into Time on a White Horse. Who is the Fairest Lion Lamb? It is Jesus, that part of I AM Who made human fellowship with the Father possible.

**I removed a portion of this testimony this evening because it moved into what I consider prophecy, and I do not feel it is my place to prophecy publicly. Please forgive me.**


July 24, 2013

Here is my greatest vexation; greatest pain; that place that I spit upon in the spirit. It is the Pharisee whom I was required to protect, love, and take all things <b>anathema</b> from in obedience. And I am blameless because I have obeyed the Protestant Fathers though they put a crown of thorns upon my insane head. They stripped me bare in my infancy and taught me to be guilty instead of loved.

The ministerial materials of the zip code of <b>Third John</b> came to me yesterday in the infancy of my newest oldest love where I have the ring on my finger. And the long white beard and gray hairs of Moses, yet redeemed, came to me in all their success. But they trained the daughters in guilt and not in love, and I labored long in the Hot Son with them for most of my 144 years. There were small spaces of time when I would get respite, but those were very few because my brother died; he is gone. <i>(I am allegorically also speaking of Brother Adam though of course this is my brother in the flesh. I don’t believe my ultra-charismatic brothers and sisters in Christ have missed this ministry on purpose. I think I just don’t know. It is a mystery to me.)</i>

But this is my worst nightmare; my greatest pain: when it came time to cast the greatest sin, I had to place it upon Brother Adam and not Father Adam (Lot). I had to strike the prodigal son who had already eaten in the pig stye and been restored to wholeness in love. He had already labored in the Hot Son too, and yet I had to place the greatest burden upon my brother.

But then, it is that brother Adam who has had my oil of gladness poured upon his ashes; it is not the Father of my youth, those 144 years of living, that sits in the fifth windowless bedroom. Yeah, he doesn’t get to sit where the heavenlies of this home resides because unrighteous Lot and his stone wife did not leave first, they left last. They prefer the comfort of American male success instead of the love language of women and children.

And here is my testimony: I birthed three sons, and they are approximately seven years apart. So that is a double rest for the 3:33 of my life, that place where the Trinity was taught to us harshly even as Jesus was crucified in Harsh and Crushing Degradation. And how did that testimony come about last night? I can say it was not in the comfort of the crimson blankets; no, it was not in this comfort. I awoke at 3:22 hearing poetry coming forth of many things, and so I got up to write. But my fairest brother, my love, came in and stopped me. He said no more writing though I told him I would need to write this this morning.

And I obeyed my brother love. I went to sleep. I listened to music, and the long suffering of Cara Ann who has ill placed compassion almost made herself wait for 3:33, but I did not. I obeyed my husband in heart and turned the phone off therefore refusing that part of 3:33 my watchful prayers because they spit upon me betimes. And as I began to come to the computer for this final writing, it was 6:33 a.m., which is that 6-6 that I know so well. Yes, I know the double six on the Internet and in the very air betimes, but I will not live there any longer. <i>(I was born in 1966. Also, my sixth son’s birth date is digit sums of 3/3/3.)</i>

I will live in love with the brothers and sisters who I had to strike the hardest. I have turned my back upon that which trained me and free fall in love in this new life of mine forevermore. It is finished, and I am rising again because the double moons have now gone down so I will rise up with the Son in His Time with the Spotless Bride with me. I am losing this moon swept moment the weight of the sin of the fathers off my weak frame. I did not spawn that guilty seed upon my children. I did not pass to my three sons what was passed to Brother Adam and me. I spit upon it instead.

Oh elder brother, how I have loved you. How I have labored with you. Now please, won’t you realize that you need to lavish love on the daughters of Jerusalem? For though Second John 1:1 gives me the right of the love of all those who know the truth, all I have ever known from you is ashes to ashes and dust to dust. Please consider listening to the daughters instead of training them to your whim of dominant love. {It is 7:14 a.m. as I finish. I am the little girl whom Jesus will raise up from the dead shortly. I go now to eat my peanut butter and jelly sandwich with my dearest cup of coffee because I am famished from walking in the desert sands of love that is but isn’t. It was very confusing indeed.}

***8:47 a.m. saw me coming in to make some minor adjustments to this testimony, and that is appropriate. It is because I look forward to a new beginning for my 47 year walk on this earth. My husband and I have decided to burn the ministerial materials of <b>Third John</b> spoken here at the end. It will be Sunday, July 28, 2013, which is the sixth day of my Tower of Babel march. And we are hoping to also go walk in Bee Cave which is in the Westlake area of Austin, Texas, in the evening.

My husband, that Fire Chief of my life whom I now see in purest love and respect with my eyes wide open, he decried my flushing those ashes down the toilet. He said those ashes would stay in the littlest Pit at the back of this property, but he said it softly; there was no anger. And here, in her innocency, was Eara Abigail Coffey brought to my remembrance at 10:57 a.m. this morning: for you see, Eara Abigail sat in the Lap Of God one day and watched an Army of Angels march out of a Door of Hell somewhere, and then She saw God Close the Door. She is even now telling me there were close to a million of them she thinks, and they were both really bright white and/or yellow. And I am smiling to say that yes, they have wings. They were really tall, too. She told me at first that the angels looked like what they always look like when I asked her the details. And I’ve never seen them so I don’t know. She was so sweet about it. I wonder what all this means? I don’t know because it is too hard to discern for me.

So my husband, when I suggested a Grand Flush, told me no again. That littlest Elder, he loves the Body of Christ, that Spotless Bride, more than he is angry about how he has had to watch his wife eat the little book and vomit it out because it was bitter (Revelation 10:9) for 47 years that were 144 betimes. He loves Her more than me, and I am so thankful for that or I’d have……well, anyway. This little place is where I know that my husband, he stays closer than a brother to his wife. Maybe by Sunday I will even be willing to wash the ashes with a fire hose just to be extra sweet with latter rains. We will see. I need to repent betimes still some more, for I am one angry little cardinal sometimes.

And this is the dearest part of healing to me: for when the Apostle John came to me in late 2008 with the Book of Second John, it was the fairest letter of the Love of my life who fed me hidden manna in the wilderness, Curtis Edward Coffey. I am only that lamb who has tried very hard to be as wise as a serpent though I know I have failed ever so many times. But you see, this is what is best to me: The Dove has Comforted me and does Comfort me forevermore in Pure Innosense that is the Incense of Love. Oh Holy Spirit, I cannot worship You enough ever. You are Love of all Loves on this Earth. Oh I couldn’t write enough in worship to the Beloved Holy Spirit, He Who is that Part of Alpha Omega so Hidden but so Dear to the Beloved, so Dear.<i>(Unconsciously, I was writing of Revelation 2 where it speaks of the “white stones”, one of which I was given as Uncovered No More was brought forth.)</i>

<b>***I took my second Tower of Babel walk, and it was difficult but at least the two dogs that came out, and particularly the little white female with black spots who is really cute but likes to try to bite my ankle, actually ate some cheese I threw at her as Val and I moved past. Poor little lady; she is owned by an equally little Asian lady whom I love. She doesn’t even speak English, but she walks in this neighborhood too with her walking stick and big hat. I marvel now, for the women of the world, we walk and pray all the time, all the times, all those wonderfully beautiful yet bloody times. And as I came home, it became 10:25 a.m. which is wonderful to me, for you see, I am to be married to Curtis again for the 25th time on February 4, 2014. A double seven for me is what I know deeply as I move toward wedding my new husband who put my ring back on my finger last weekend. 6-7-7, yes, I love that very much. And the Holy Spirit, He gave me permission as I walked into my driveway of weeping and pain for the first 144 years of my life. He allowed me provision, but I am not going to be hasty in it. I will not “hit delete” on all of my old blog, but I am allowed to go unpublish it right now until I am rested and can see what is to be done with it later. So for now, this blog will only carry a very few things: nine blog articles, the one United States Prayer Initiative, and the few pages that are here. Hopefully, Lord willing, my website is to be re-written by Patrick sometimes in December. And one other thing: I did not wear any hat this morning, nor did I wear a headband. Unless I’m mistaken, I don’t think the Holy Spirit wants me to wear anything for a while on my head. It is enough to be seen in the heavenlies as both male and female in Christ as I pray.***</b>

When I unpublished the blog, a deliverance happened. I felt a punch to my torso.


7:45 a.m. on 7/27/2013 I was on my fifth Tower of Babel walk, and I was privileged to see what I am going to do with the precious ashes of <b>Third John’s</b> ministerial materials. Sometimes, my arrogance comes out and I wish I could see before my time because then perhaps other people would not suffer with my difficult testimony. Father, please forgive me? Father, oh Father, please forgive me for my arrogant sight. And Jesus Christ, I ask You again to forgive me. For there is not enough suffering to compare to the Glory to be revealed, and God’s Timing is Perfect.

Tomorrow morning, on my sixth day, I am going to walk as Curtis burns the ministerial materials of <b>Third John</b>. And then, I will wash the ashes with our garden hose that is by both the fire pit and my garden.

And then, these precious ashes are going into a little plastic container with a crimson lid that I had been using for olive oil. It sits beside my Unity Candle which is lit as I write this. While some of the ashes will sit out publicly in the littlest Pit, the most precious ashes of the labor of Father Noah, Father Abraham, Father Moses, Father Joseph, Father Peter, Father Paul, and Father John are going into my most intimate olive oil container.

Under direction of the Holy Spirit, I changed my olive oil container to a glass one with a white lid sometime last week. And I placed it in my personal belongings to anoint my face with oil in the evenings. And so these my most beloved fathers, those men who are Robert Hilton Beaty, Jr., Curtis Edward Coffey, and <b>Third John</b>, their ashes share a space with my personal olive oil. And this is so healing to me I cannot write it today.

And where will these precious remnants of purest love stay? They will stay with me for I cannot bare (bear) to part with the love of my life who are the fathers of the Protestant, and Catholic, Churches in the United States of America. {6:42 p.m. on 8/15/2013: I removed those ashes to the “square ocean” box that has a new and simplified list of prayer as my “pocket of prayers”.}

And tomorrow? I go to Fredericksburg with my most intimate Love, Curtis Edward, who is that father that husbands me so perfectly. Curtis has a relative of the Palmer family who lives (or possibly lived for she may have passed on) in Fredericksburg, Texas. This journey is to speak peace to my husband’s Coffey line. I will buy a new candle and light it betimes. They have a candle shop in Fredericksburg where they make the most beautiful candles while you watch. So then, my gold candle from Edith’s wedding will be retired as a keepsake in my bottom dresser drawer where a good many memories of love reside.

I am so sorry, <b>Third John</b>. I am so sorry that I could not explain it to you enough all this time.

And then, we come back to Austin to walk at a place my parents love in Bee Cave. This will be so restful for me that I cannot write it. Healing oils of love are bathing me now even though I am still laboring a bit in the Hot Son. I also bought myself new bathing products, and they are from “Burt’s Bees”.

And I didn’t realize it until a few days ago, but Bee Cave and Burt’s Bees speak of the honey I now am privileged to write. (Revelation 10)


July 28, 2013

I sat on my couch in my bedroom this morning, and it is the sage green comfort I know so well. But there was no comfort for me this morning as I went on my sixth Tower of Babel walk. For you see, the sisters torment me betimes, those Christian women who despise me even as Saul’s daughter Michal despised King David as he danced naked down the street in worship to I AM.

I was at Costco yesterday, and the next-to youngest of my Christian sisters who hate me had to be treated as unbeliever by me. She stood there checking receipts with the nicest of Hispanic ladies, my friend who greets me betimes. And I chose my friend over my beloved sister to check my receipt because my beloved sister would not repent when I called her to and so I must suffer in silence in Austin, Texas, betimes. {From February through about May of 2013, I had to declare unbeliever, hand over to Satan for non-destruction and destruction, and retain forgiveness against a good many people in Austin and throughout the United States for such a time as this. I had already had two incidents where I had handed over to Satan unconsciously because these two men, one on a public level and one on a private level, had sinned against children. And my prayers shockingly were answered. I thank God I didn’t know what I was doing or I would have died mentally. It is not for women to do these things; yet I have done them under direction of the Holy Spirit and to my own hurt.}

I awoke this morning, and yesterday morning, with pain on my left side. I walked stiffly today and bore pain on my left side with a swollen shoulder and all else I am familiar with because of my twisted back.

So I also saw 6:06 a.m. again on my walk; but my soul dried up and I would not view 6:33 a.m. for my sisters in Christ this mourning. I turned my phone off and kept walking because these sisters have hated me because I carry 6-6. They have loved their brother fathers and husbands above that Brother Who Died for them; these my Christian sisters forsake the weeping of the daughters of Jerusalem.

But I will not. And I will teach my children to weep. I will teach my children to love Jesus Christ and no other because I know as they do this, they will love themselves deeply and then love their neighbor perfectly. This I know and have practiced betimes across twenty-two years of mothering and twenty-four years of wife service and forty-seven years of daughter service. To love in Christ is to love deepest.

And then I remembered that vow I spoke to my beloved under the bright pink crepe myrtle trees. My Comforter hid it for a time because of the pain of it: I am bound to people for their lives and I cannot burn that one list that hurts the most and sits within my square ocean of ashes, blood, sweat, and tears. It is that list carrying the torment of those whom I must stand in the gap for against my will, and I am pained for retaining forgiveness and etc.

But I am comforted anyway, for a peach tree that my oldest son planted in his youth has come up. My second son just showed me pictures of peaches growing on it; and there are six of them.

Oh sisters in Christ, my Beloved Ladies of Love, won’t you come with me into that realm where there are none as Fair as I AM? I do not pray for you today; I spit upon your milk-like love of God instead.

***3:33 p.m. finds Curtis and me driving back to Austin for a movie and a walk at Bee Cave. It troubled me to hit my sisters in Christ as hard as I did above; I am sorry sisters but I never had one and I only ever look at sister to sister love from a distance. But this I know: your comfort is as the Holy Spirit. As Curtis and I drank coffee at the fire pit this morning, a dove pecked around quietly in the grasses a little beyond. And I can look forward to closer fellowship with sisters now I think. I will not lose hope. I will get ready to learn from you and take comfort in consolation with you instead. For I know deeply today: my time of 6-6 degradation and loneliness ends on Wednesday, July 31, 2013. I look forward to that day, every day thereafter, and That Day with sisters and brothers too numerous to count.

But now, I get to start over. And that has not ever happened to me before. Since I am not oppressed or burdened with prayer unctions of a difficult nature, I am trusting the Lord I will meet new people here in Austin that love Jesus just like those who I am leaving behind, and I will be able to tap into their love in a new way than I was able to across the last five years as I wrote. I suppose I can get used to confining my prayer initiatives to less invasive measures. You know what? Things don’t always make sense and they aren’t always fair. Curtis and I definitely have not felt like things were very fair for us particularly the last five years.

And yet, I feel privileged. To come to the place of praying what I have the past nine blog articles (there were that many to begin with) was worth the degradation and loneliness I went through to be taken to where I prayed these things on behalf of the United States of America. Our prayers, praises, sufferings, and spiritual services of worship are so necessary and I know that now more than I know anything else. I AM is pleased. What a blessed miracle.

The Old Testament tells us that our Fathers and Mothers of old dealt with God’s Righteous Anger. And though I have sensed that so many times particularly over the last five years, the abiding understanding I have come away with across 47 years of living this life is simple: the Bible really is true and His love really is boundless.

****I saw 7:33 a.m. (7/30/2013) on the mourning of my last, eighth Tower of Babel walk, that one which sums up the 6-6 of my life. Curtis and I were texting together then. I walk a new beginning for me, for my family, and for my Family. I will place my pocket of painfully pure prayers into my left pocket of my jean shorts this morning, and I don’t even know if I’ll take a dog. There are some walks that are best done alone. And sometimes I pose questions to I AM. Today I have one: will She be careless enough to let me carry these prayers? Will my Brother Judas Iscariot betray little Sister Eve too? And here I have prayed for him; I have loved that one disciple who never became an apostle because he valued the pig sty over the field of the Pearl of Great Price.

Oh Father, this strikes me in my new place. For I am bound not to release forgiveness upon this if it happens. I am bound to retention, unbeliever status, and handing over to Satan. You see, it is less painful to release people in forgiveness. It is pure agony to retain it. I wonder what Jesus did on the Cross? It is unspoken in the Bible, but now, it is not un-pondered by me after having been taken to John 20 twice in the last five years. If Jesus said there is such a thing as retention of forgiveness, and He did, then one would suppose He said it for a purpose though He never gave details about it in His Instructions in the Bible. God help me, there is a place of silent learning that is treacherous indeed, and I am even now learning that perhaps Jesus communicated quite a little bit in silence on the Cross. For you see, though He welcomed one thief into eternity on the Cross He said nothing to the thief who reviled Him that we know. But of what am I sure? Jesus Christ loves both Thieves exactly the same:


And this I realize a little more today: The Holy Spirit teaches the Saints all things, and He is Pure Comfort Forevermore and Eternally. Thank You Father God. Thank You Jesus Christ. Thank You Holy Spirit. And then again, Thank You Holy Spirit; Thank You Jesus Christ; and Thank You Father God.

3:33 a.m. on 7/31/2013 saw me witnessing my new beginning. And I forgot, you see. But on April 18, 2013, I produced one handwritten prayer list that is within my pocket of painful prayers. It lists all of my children and speaks what I am praying for, and against, nationwide according to their names. That is one list I will never burn.

I am tempted to end it all and burn everything to start over. Due to circumstances beyond my control, and theirs, I have had to testify things nobody is likely to believe. And in the case of those represented in this series, I am bound to them in ways hard to understand but real to me nonetheless. I can move on, but it is not as happy as I would have wished. I passed through the embarrassment again last night. Why not just take this all down? Why?

But this I know: that list of my children’s names from April 18 has value, and as I have said before, I am going with them. Who are “them”? They are my children, your children, and our grandchildren. And I am confident of this very thing: that He Who began a good work in Us does complete it until That Day of Jesus Christ. That I don’t burn my embarrassment, pain, and degradation speaks volumes toward how I know that. I don’t just believe it. It is not strong enough to believe something. And sadly, I must testify that Satan knows <i>that concept</i> far better than many, if not most, Christians nationwide. Otherwise, those Christians would be on their knees repenting to turn the tide of what is happening, and they are not.

And there is why I leave this up: I have done it, the double moons are come and gone, and it is finished for me. I wonder what that means for you, oh American Christian? When I published my second book, I placed where I was in the spirit on the back cover: I was at the base of an imposing mountain called “Christian Ministry”. I am not there anymore, and “they” don’t know where I am today so I will just stay home. They never have known, but they should have. The superfluity of naughtiness and doubtful doctrines of American Christianity hid Uncovered No More very well indeed.

<center>the end</c>

<b><center>August 1, 2013</b></c>

Broken (Beautiful) sung by Chris Sligh is playing as I write this, my last entry. This time, I have a physical testimony to share instead of difficult allegorical meanderings, musings, prayers, praises, degradation, and all else of those things that define my wierd writing.

Anyway, my dear husband Curtis and I are now, finally and after 144 allegorical years, Uncovered No More. It is just like Curtis told me to write in September of 2008. I am thinking he owes me big time, and I am also thinking he tends to agree with me. I’ll have a real good time with this for the rest of my life and that is one certainty my husband can bank on.

But here it is, small and inconsequential as it can be: the county, or city, or whomever decides these things came yesterday, July 31, 2013 (my first day resurrected from that last prayer incentive of my 40 years of Christianity in the desert sands), and put a nice layer of blacktop gravel on top of Weir Loop Circle, and only Weir Loop Circle. It’s as if my Lord said, “I see all the tears, sweat, and steps of Robert Hilton, Jr. & Mary Virginia Beaty; Curtis Edward and Cara Ann Coffey; Edith Renae; Patrick Stephen; Margaret Elizabeth; Dorothy Ann; Mary Hannah; Alva Richard; Eara Abigail; Lydia Joy; Esther Grace; and Robert Edward Coffey.

I AM saw, and He said, this bare sacrifice of living in the county of Travis and at 78736, it is Uncovered No More.

And I am here to say I never figured that would mean black top gravel. Nope. Never in my wildest nightmares? or maybe dreams….would I have thought blacktop gravel would do the trick. And now we begin again….walking in love with Jesus Christ right here in Travis County just like you, oh believer in Jesus Christ across the United States…and world. Every step, every dream, every nightmare, every vision, every visitation, every death, every resurrection, every degradation, every drop of blood, tears, and water, all of it is known by I AM just like the pretty little bird I saw dead on the street as I walked by tonight. I felt it; that sweet sting of death. And then I knew it again:

<center><b>I AM KNOWS</b></C>

I placed this 8/4/2013 testimony here though I am finished writing for a time. It is because it had to do with the prayer initiative of burning a certain prayer list my daughter Margaret carried for a space of time due to a dream she had. I put those ashes, and some ministerial materials of <i>First John</i> that were delivered here on 7/22/2013 in Margaret’s bedroom, that fifth windowless one testified within this blog series:

<i>It is 8/4/2013 {6-6-6} and I am sitting in the foyer of Life Austin as Pastor Randy Phillips is teaching about how God needs us. This fills my heart with peace and joy, for I have written a poem about this very thing. And I never knew how God needs us until this year; what a blessing to hear it taught and expounded upon. And today is my first Sunday to go to church with my Love’s diamond on my finger again after so many years. Curtis is so weary, and I am taking care of him mindfully now as I continue to care for myself better. I fixed us eggs and toast before church, and Curtis had a nap.

Some prayers broke forth this morning. I saw 6:44/:45 a.m. and 9:33 a.m. as I got ready for church and wrote in my diary. And today, I move Brother Adam’s ashes and ministerial materials out of the fifth windowless bedroom where my Margaret Elizabeth slumbered and place them downstairs on my beautiful bookcase in the dining room. I pray for Lazarus, and I speak by faith in the finished work of Jesus Christ Who Says across Time:</b></c>

<center><b>LAZARUS, COME FORTH</b></c>

In a bit of humor, I admit that to say “goodbye” doesn’t mean you actually do it until, say, 13 days after you said you were going to do it. I don’t know if that is an endearing quality of just us women, but it is a lesson I have had to learn concerning prophetic gifting: seasons come, seasons go, but it is never quite as cut and dry as I would have liked it to be much to my consternation.

August 27, 2013: I had to produce two more simplified lists, painfully. It is finished though, and I walk on. Those lists reside with my papers I use for walking, but all the ashes and other mementos from this journey are stored outside in a doghouse/shed for a time with some of Curtis’s old things. I wonder now, what is to become of them?

<i>This prophetic unction of Lazarus came forth quickly, and it is explained in <a href=”″>72 Hours</a></i>.

<a href=”″>In Conclusion, A Rainbow, Part Six</a>


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