Waiting In The Waiting Room



I was getting ready to go into the doctor’s again
For blood work to be done,
When I kept feeling God tell me to bring my bible along with me.

“My bible?!? Why?”

“I want you to read it while you’re waiting in the waiting room.”

I thought of the other book that I had planned to bring,
But He told me no. So I didn’t.

I was about to forget to bring it, but God reminded me.

So I went to go get it.

As I reached for the Geneva one, God told me no.

“I want you to bring your red-covered one.”

“But Lord! They’re going to think I’m one of those
Weirdo bible-thumping Christians!
Anyone will be able to tell that it’s a bible!”

“Maybe I want them to see this.
Maybe some one else needs to be reminded
That even my younger generation holds believers in Me.”

So I brought it with me, wondering if this too,
Is just another trick my imagination is playing on me,
And that it’s really NOT my God telling me to do this.

When I get there, there are only two other people in the waiting room.

So, I sit down to wait.

I ask the voice within, what I am to read.
James came to mind, as that is my husband’s favorite chapter to read.

And so I began reading.
I was going to remove my sunglasses,
But I could feel the Lord tell me no,
So I left them on. (I had no make up on underneath.)

Soon after, an older woman walks in,
And to my surprise she sits down next to me.
(There were many other chairs that she could have sat on.)

Moments later, she asks me out of the blue,
“What does the word ‘infidel’ mean?”

I couldn’t help it;
I looked at her like ‘huh?!?’

“I see you reading your bible,”
She said, motioning to my book,
“I was wondering if you could tell me,
What the word infidel means.
You know; where it says in the bible
That a man who does not take care of his family
Is worse than an infidel.”

“Oh, that’s painful!,” I whispered.
I remembered well, being in that space.

“I’m not sure,” I replied tentatively.
“I can see if it’s here in the back of my bible.”

But it wasn’t there.

“I think it means ‘unbeliever’.
At least I know that’s the Muslim definition of the word.”

Then she started telling me about her husband,
Who has left her, for the world of sex & pornography.

So I told her a little about my husband,
And how we too, went through the problems common to addictions,
And I even told her about one of my older sons,
And his struggle with the demons of pornography.

All during this time, others were coming into the waiting room,
Some of whom seemed to listen to our conversation

I tried to encourage her to keep praying for him,
Especially P.U.S.H. prayer, (praying until something happens,)
As that is what has helped me with my husband.
I told her, “Just think of when he suddenly comes to his senses,
and realizes just what a beautiful woman he’s lost!
You don’t just give up 47 years of marriage
Without any regrets! There’s HISTORY there!
Many GOOD times that were shared!
That matters! It counts for quite a bit!”

“He used to listen,” she responded to me,
“to the televangelist right along with me.
He used to call himself a Christian. But now…
Well,…I’m not so certain if God really wants me
To keep praying for him and our marriage.
After all, the bible does say that we are to escape from evil.
Maybe God doesn’t want me to stay married to him!”

My heart just ACHED for her, hearing this!!

But I shook my head in disagreement.
“I KNOW that God does not like divorce!”

Then she seemed to remember the piece of scripture that claims this.
“Ah yes, it is only because of man’s heart being hard, that God o.k.’s it.”

Just then, the nurse calls for me.
So I said goodbye to her, and went in.

And I cried all the way through having my blood drawn.

Not because of the pain from the needle,
But because of the pain leaching from this woman’s heart.

When I walked back out there, a part of me was afraid
That she would still be there.

What would I say to her?
What COULD I say to her to help ease her pain?

Sure enough, she was still waiting out there in the waiting room.
Along with many of the others who had been avidly listening in
To our exchange.

“OH LORD!”, I screamed in my mind, “WHAT DO I SAY?!”

“Peace, little one. I will give you the words to say…”

And sure enough, He did.

Her eyes snagged mine, the moment I stepped out into the waiting room,
So I knew that she still wanted to talk.

So I walked over to her, and as I stood before her,
She told me more of her problem.

“It’s not just him,” she confides to me, “It’s me, too. I get so angry at him!
I try to talk to him, but he just won’t listen!”

I nod in understanding.
“My husband wouldn’t listen to me either.
The only thing that would work, is prayer.”

“I get so angry,” she continues, “that I loose control.”

I told her that Al-Anon helped me deal with my anger issues.
But I sensed she did not want to hear more about that.
I did not push that avenue, for I had just recently learned
That it was not wholly Christian.
I sensed that there must be another piece to the puzzle,
(something else believers can do to fight such issues,)
But it was one I did not have yet, so I remained silent.

I then sensed that our time together was coming to a close,
So I asked her, if I could have the first name of her husband,
So I could pray for him.
She asked me what I had just said, and I forced myself to repeat it.
(I’m not usually one to ask for names, but I do know now,
that it makes the prayers more effective.)
She told me, and then she said she would pray for my son, too.

The nurse then came in, and called for her.
(So I now have her first name to use in prayer as well.)
I wrote them down on a little sticky note, and stuck it in my bible.

Then unseeing, I walked out to my car,
And once in it, Proceeded to bawl my eyes out.

Here I am,
Wondering if he even exists,
And here he shows me
That He doesn’t just exist,

And even more, that I, sick as I am,
Can still be of use to Him!



I still wonder how that woman is doing,
If her husband has returned back home
And has been set free from the addiction.

I wish I could talk to her now to let her know
What that missing piece of the puzzle is,
For I am learning about the other tool that has been given to all believers
To fight off such sin problems and issues;
The quoting of scriptures and casting out demons in His name!

I wish I could thank that woman for her prayers,
And let her know of a victory in answered prayer,
For my son with the addiction problem
Gave his life over to Christ one evening, many months later,
(After watching the movie entitled: “Fireproof”,)
And has since been set free from that demon of addiction!

*  *  *  *

Keep Singing His Praise!

A Child’s dream…

We were all grown up,
Not living with each other anymore,
But the kids still did things with my husband and I.
We didn’t live where we do now anymore.

We had moved into an old church building located in a smaller city,
With a basement, and a traditional hall where preaching could take place.
We were co-owners of the church, along with two other married couples,
And took turns preaching and sharing and discussing the Word,
On a strict schedule that rotated every three months.
I knew where everything was stored, and had full access to everything.

We had stored extra sleeping bags, water, food, and other needed items,
For those that would one day take refuge in the church.

On this day, we had managed to sync all our schedules,
So we could all be together again (our family,) after months of being apart.

We had all been reunited for about an our or two,
Right around dusk or twilight,
When an Armageddon-type event occurred.

There was some kind of invasion happening,
Some kind of barrier had been breached,
Alien beings of some kind,
Were suddenly invading and killing all the people.

It started first with the president,
And then went quickly down the ranks of government,
Till there was no one left.
(The lack of government greatly added to the chaos.)

One minute they would be there, and the next, ZAP,
With their face aflame, they would evaporate into smoke and then into nothing,
But their scream could still be heard for a moment or two after their body was gone,
Like an echo of their pain and terror. Even after their cries were silent,
And even if there were no belongings left in that spot,
(If they dropped something before getting zapped,)
We could tell that someone had died there,
For an evil of some kind remained in that place.
(One got that feeling of unease, whenever one walked over that spot.)

There had been no warning whatsoever, no ransom note or demands,
Just killing, quickly, with no mercy or order.
There was no place to hide; they could sense where you were hidden,
So they found you where ever you were.

Businessmen in their fancy suits, rushed to get their money,
Hoping to try and pay them off with riches or promises of positions of power,
But when they realized this would not work,
(they would see some get zapped who were already trying to bargain with them,)
They decided to try to escape in their fancy cars or on their jet.

Cars were crashing into buildings,
As their driver and occupants would be zapped,
Leaving the car still in motion.

Animals were left and not taken,
Their emotions fed off of their owners,
And became upset when they felt the fear
Or the absence of their owners,
As they were zapped by the aliens.

These aliens looked just like demons, with their varied shapes and sizes,
(not like the grays or reptiles one might think of now when one says ‘aliens’,)
And they cloaked themselves in a black darkness that was all around them.
They moved so fast, as if our earthly time and space did not apply to them.
It seemed as if they simply teleported form one spot to another,
But if one followed them closely, one could see that they simply moved so swiftly
That it was hard for the eye to notice it.

They went about zapping all humans, from children to old people,
No age was left alone.

We first heard the commotion, the screams of the people,
And went outside to see what all the commotion was all about.
That was when we seen what was happening.

I stood there, at the opening of the church doors,
Telling people to come inside, that we had all that was needed to survive
Already for them inside, but no one would listen.
They were too filled with panic,
And the thoughts of loosing their own earthy stuff
To really listen.
Those that did hear my cries, looked at me and what I stood under,
And said that they absolutely refused to enter into a church.
(at this time, and where we were,
A church was viewed as the last place one went to before dying.
It was associated with death, and condemnation, NOT life or salvation!
They seen it as a place where one would go into,
Bow down and kiss the feet of the pastor/father
Pour out all your sins, and then prepare yourself to die.


I kept trying to tell anyone who could hear my voice to come in,
That supplies were there for them, and that they would be safe within.
But again, no one believed it.

It was so very heart-wrenching for me to see so many people dying around me,
Simply because they refused to believe.

The men were hidden within the church, my oldest was vying for attention,
(arguing, know-it-all problem solving, devaluing it,)
And my youngest boy simply shut down in fear, and was unreachable.
(wave your hand over his face, see his open eyes, but get no response.)
He figured we were all screwed.

Even those that had come to the services before,
Regular attendees, refused to come in,
Saying that they had plans to shelter by themselves
In their own homes, with their own family.
I kept telling them,
“Keep quoting the scriptures!
Keep singing His praise songs!
This will keep you safe from them!”
I hoped that they would. 

I became really tired, tired of seeing so many people die,
That really didn’t need to die, if they would only believe,
So much so, that I finally went inside for a few moments,
Cause the grief of what I had seen, was too much for me.
so many of our friends, some I had known for years, now dead,
All because they simply refused to believe.

One woman was running back to her home, to collect her things,
And to check on her children, and as she ran off, she was vaporized.

One of my kids stayed outside, hoping to catch the attention of passer-bys
And a few would stop and ask why we were also not panicking,
And were just standing there.

When they were told, and that they were welcome to take shelter with us,
They would scoff, and say we were crazy,
For that was not what they had heard to do from the radio/authorities,
And besides, who ever heard of using scripture and praise songs,
To fight off such? They looked at it as silly nonsense;
they did not believe that the Word had any power at all!

We however, already knew differently.

We kept thinking, why should we fear these aliens?
We have been fighting off demons for years;
It’s just that now they can be seen by everyone.

As the night descended upon the U.S., the killings all around us raged.

About after midnight, after most of the easy pickings had been killed off,
The aliens then turned and tried to attack the believers.

They would try to zap us, but we would only feel a prick,
Or like touching the surface of a cooling-but-still-hot-stove,
We could feel the pain, but would not die.

Every time we would feel them attack,
We would recite scripture, or sing a praise song.
It got to the point, that one of us was constantly speaking the Word,
Or singing a praise song, to fight them off and remove any pain.

We took turns doing this for several hours,
Till finally they gave up and left us for easier prey.

When the morning came, we discovered, through the emergency radio
That there were other pockets of believers that had survived.
Out of the three favorite radio stations that I had written down,
Only the Christian radio station was still broadcasting.
(The station wasn’t completely Christian all the time,
But one could still hear true Christian music being played on it
as their play list would cycle through.)
In America, the pocket of survivors were most often found in churches. 
In the rest of the world, Places that had not really known Christ before the attack were mostly destroyed.
The whole world had been attacked.
At least 3/4ths of the world’s population had been killed off.

Only believers (or those sheltered among them,) remained.

There were no riots afterwards, no rushing to take another’s belongings.
If there was a need, and they seen something that was needed,
They would use it. but it was never called theirs.
(It was usually used to help another in need.)

It was very eerie, seeing so many empty houses without any occupants.

It was the dream that felt so very real.
The knowledge of this time, (the year 2012 and earlier,)
Is what seemed unreal, almost like a dream.
(It felt so long ago, that sometimes people would ask themselves
If that’s what life was really like.)

The attack only lasted one night.


At first, what affected my child so deeply with this dream,
Was that the role of churches had become so backwards.
They were never meant to be a stigma of death, shame, and hopelessness.
Then, after clicking on an audio news link from NASA the next morning,
My child became even more affected by it,
The audio link sounded just like the demonic aliens did in the dream,
as they were attacking…

After being told this dream, I began to notice, that so many web sites out there,
Automatically come to the conclusion that some of the worst destruction to come upon a land described in Revelation, absolutely has to be only from a nuclear war.
After hearing of this dream, I am not so sure…

My Betrothed Returns!

A Dream… 


I was in a place, where the surroundings looked almost medieval,
Where swords, shields, bows and arrows were mostly used,
Amongst old pyramid-like stone structures, caves, and castles.

A major fight was going on within the compound that I was in,
A fight between good and evil.
This fight, felt like it had been going on for a millennia or more.
I was the next one in line
To pick up my sword and fight the evil that kept attacking us.
I was a young woman, still in the bloom of my youth,
Lean, toned, clear skinned, and long flowing hair,
Dressed in a warriors’ garb,
I was reasonably attractive au natural,
And was told this was due to the genes of my forefather.

I knew I had become a good fighter, for now the evil ruler
(set or shiva; its name could change through out the years,
But it was the same demon ruler of darkness, destruction, and death) 
Sent groups of his fighters to attack me,
instead of just one or two at a time.
Ugly they were: a mix of various demons,
Some like a goblin or a gargoyle,
Others like a chimera, half animal half insect,
Whatever their form or shape.
I had learned how to recognize what they looked like,
And could even sense where they were,
even when they thought themselves well hidden,
and could defend myself well, when they attacked.
They usually tried attacking me with their bow and arrows.
Those creatures who were large enough
And high up in the enemy’s camp,
Had swords of their own,
Some even had their own unique weapons
Devised just for them to use.
The swords of the enemies though larger,
were not as strong as mine,
And were often more blunt, bent, and dull.
(Deadly however, if ignored!)
So, like a heroine in a medieval movie,
I kept clearing them out of the areas that we lived in,
And off of the land that our clan owned.

When I managed to slice through them
Or pierce them with my sword,
They would shriek, hiss, and howl,
Before turning quickly to ash vapor
And disappearing from our world.

Sometimes I would have help
In fighting them off
From other warriors in our camp,
But most of the time,
There was enough evil around to always keep each one of us
Busy fighting off our own attacks.

I was in one of the rooms, (a bedroom?)
Fighting off the last of a lower caste hoard of demons,
(they used mostly bow and arrows to attack,)
I turned to go out of the room
And into the next fighting area,
When I suddenly seen a great and handsome warrior
Standing before me.

Tall, broad shouldered, with steady brown eyes,
Dressed also as a warrior from our clan,
He was so handsome, that I paused, impressed,
And simply starred at him.
Inwardly, I sensed, just for a moment,
that there was something about him that seemed slightly familiar,
something that perhaps I should know,
but I quickly cast the thought out of my mind,
as probably being a trick of the enemy,
for it would not be the first time that this kind of deception
had been played upon my people. 

As he stood there expectantly,
I moved forward to walk past him,
But he reached out and tried to grab my arm,
And said “I’m back! Come!”

Shock, (how dare he!) roiled through me,
And I immediately moved my silver sword
So it came between me and him.

I expected him to back off,
for if he was of the enemy, such a sword would cause fear in him,
but instead, his head moved slightly back and his eyes blinked.
But the rest of him remained unmoved.

“In case you haven’t noticed,” I said to him,
“there’s a war going on around here.
So if you really are on our side,
Pick up your sword and fight!”

His arm lowered then, and he took a step back from me.
“You really don’t recognize me, do you?” he asks.

The sound of an impending fresh attack nearby,
Wailed its arrival through the door.

“I know what will help you to remember,” he says. “Follow me.”
He motioned out towards the hallway,
Towards an alcove just a short distance from the door.

I followed,
For all the fighting action was now outside the room anyways,
And I was curious to see what he had to show me.

We came to the alcove,
Where the statue of a false god, an old idol,
Lay broken on its back.
It was shiva the god of death,
The one who brings destruction and darkness,
The one who was defeated long ago by our King.

“Do you remember what happened here?” he asked me.
“Of course,” I responded. “Our great King sacrificed himself
So he could descend into the underworld and defeat lord shiva.” 

“Look,” he said, bending down to touch the bronze statue.

And as I watched, his touch turned the charred bronze statue
Into a small white crumbling biscuit.
He then picked it up, broke off a piece of its foot,
And handed it to me.

“I can’t take that,” I responded to him with wariness.
“It’s from an idol. We have been told to stay away from such evil.”

But he still held it out to me.
“eat it,” he said, “and then you will remember.”

It seemed different somehow,
Transformed upon his touch,
And no longer seemed to be from the idol.
So I took it from him,
And looked at it closely.
It was of a pure white color in the center,
And lightly browned on the outside.
It was covered with rows of stripes
With dotted indentations in between them.
I could not see nor feel nor smell any evil coming from it at all.

At that moment,
The enemy rounded the corner into our area,
And tried to renew its attack on us in earnest.

But this regiment was no match for the man warrior
That had just given me the biscuit to eat.
I watched him lay waste to scores of them at a time
With just one slash of his sword.

As he pursued the enemy,
he called forth a rallying cry to the rest of our clan,
“Come! Let’s go!”
to all who were able to hear.

Upon seeing this,
I took the crumbling piece of biscuit in to my mouth and chewed.
I gasped, and then swallowed it,
As shock flooded my whole being.

This man…he was my fiancée, by beloved!

I ran after him,
And soon caught up to him,
With the battle still all around us.

“You are my fiancée, my betrothed!” I said to him
With shock and accusation in my voice.
I went up to him and tried to grab some of his top into my fist,
so I could pull him closer to me,
but the enemy attack came between us,
So my beloved had to turn and fight them off.

“How come you didn’t just tell me you were my betrothed?!”

“Would you have believed me if I had?”

My shoulders slumped, realizing my answer. “No,” I sighed.

The fighting continued all around us,
But at this point, my focus was not so much on fighting off the enemy,
It was on my beloved. 

I chose my fights with purpose,
Battling out the ones that were between me and my beloved,
So I could get closer to him.

As I did so, I told him that I had been waiting for such a long time for him to return,
That I had almost begun to despair of him ever coming back!
I shared with him, how tiresome it had become for me,
To keep fighting the enemy daily, hourly, without much reprieve.

At this point, we had created a break in the fighting,
So I was finally able to run into his arms.
Oh! The feel of his warmth and comfort!
Strongly shielded in his embrace
It felt so good to be held by him again,
I almost forgot about the battle going on around me!

But the moment was short lived,
For the enemy then came down upon us from above,
Crashing down on top of us, spears and arrows pointing at us.
We surely would have been killed,
except for the strength and fast reflexes of my beloved,
who was able to lift up his shield at the last moment,
and provide a shelter for us underneath it.

For a moment there, under his shield, there was complete peace.

When the weight of the enemy began to grow heavy,
he gave one mighty shove upwards,
Which caused all the demons to tumble back and fall.

He then grabbed my hand again,
Pulled me back onto my feet,
And together we ran out the door.
I then woke up.