“Then all at once, there was a flutterment and a scufflement and a loud "Squeak!" The other squirrels scuttered away into the bushes.
When they came back very cautiously, peeping round the tree--
there was Old Brown sitting on his door-step,
quite still, with his eyes closed, as if nothing had happened.
But Nutkin was in his waistcoat pocket!
This looks like the end of the story, but it isn't.”
― Beatrix Potter, The Tale of Squirrel Nutkin
(small manifestation of encouragement: at the moment I moved to do the final proofread of this last chapter, a chickadee lands and rings my brass bell from Korea)
Tools I can prophetically act out and use: Practical "going through" applications for the "realms" OUR hearts travel. I went into the garage yesterday. We had used some para-cord to shore up our temporary roofing for our pergola. It was still laying on the bench aside everyday tools that never seemed to get put away. My spirit was searching for an idea: find something that looks like an old leather shoelace. I did not get any suggestions from my angels that I had this on hand at the house. The para-cord popped into mind. It will serve my purpose well. (Para-cord or 550 cord). Many uses: it's what ties the parachute to the parachuter. It makes sense that it would need to be very secure for jumping out of an airplane, release, catch the wind at a fast falling speed, withstanding the up snapping weight of skydivers and being reusable for many jumps.
RABBIT TRAIL: while rereading this encounter for the first time, two months later, I am in the spirit of final descent, writing the rest of the end of the book. How close I am to the “UN” being removed from “THE FINISHED BOOK.” It's Sunday morning, and I am sitting outside underneath our patio. There’s a bump in the pocket of my jean skirt where I happen to have a handkerchief. My son Justin, a cowboy, had let me choose a handkerchief, a couple of weeks ago, from his just received order. He had purchased several packets. The one I prefer is a plaid pattern with tiny crowns on it, the brand "Christian Aujard Paris." Go figure! It’s raining crowns, wouldn’t you say? Oh, how He tags and touches our hearts to deeper levels of believing. I took a picture of it sitting next to my computer with the book "project targets" in the background to post on the link to the website.)
A couple of hours ago my husband Don texted me. He asks: "Are you going downtown for National Day of Prayer? I answered his text. I was oblivious; of the date, I'm having my own national day of prayer here at home. I was not facetious! I screenshot it in my journal and shared it on the website. I haven't missed a National Day of Prayer for years, but this time I was sincerely oblivious; except that I got a special invitation from heaven. That is what I call a National Day of Prayer!
I am passionate about heaven. Why? Before God rested "They" - together in the work of His hands - made all things with redemption in mind. Love eternally expanded. Perfect love casts out all residue of fear. He loves His children so much that He created an absolute, sure way back to Himself. No weakness, ignorance, hate or fear could run or ruin His Fatherly plan. Free will stands eternally. Not in time or outside of it. Our doctrines of understanding have strangled the Good News from a limited perspective. That is why He is God! Kew.
Outworking Heaven and the Chicago Cubs
Oct. 8th, 2016 was the first time I encountered "Council Room of Windows" or "The Destiny Room" where I first saw The Unfinished Book.
1. Its origination: authorized from the Mandates room
2. Redeemed by the Lord's mediation and sacrifice in the Court of Accusations, both lenses of the mandate appeared to birth, "combine and marry," on a heavenly path, fused together in a dance of light, released on the earth.
Next, I step into the Angelic court with the mandate in hand, while passing out multiplying "copies" of personal angelic assignments to deliver and support writers.
3. Released on earth; heard and seen, declared through His prophetic vessel.
I have continued, multiple times, to encounter "The Unfinished Book," in heavenly places. God is not short on encouragement, nor lacking to get me or anyone of us off our duff and walking into your destiny.
Ascertaining how to be consummately fitted with my "royal" destiny:
receiving, wearing, understanding, transforming.
A crown for "casting." K. Wambach
"There is something delicious about writing the first words of a story. You never quite know where they'll take you." - Beatrix Potter
The first time I encountered this place/room, just walking inside took my breath away. The small room was no bigger than a storefront. A small-framed man was sitting at the back of the "shop" working on a table. I melt each time visiting this lovely suite. Stationed in the center lies a square, bakers-height table/cabinet, white painted wood with carved moldings, four drawers on each side. Hung above the cabinet there is a piece of framed latticework for display, laid and arranged with cream ribbons, white ribbons and draped antique laces. Set on the counter-top of the drawer case were different size bowls; marble urns; open metallic boxes containing pearls, diamonds, and gems, all sparkling clear. There were white on white, cream to creamy, velvet's and bows and hand beaded things. Built into the far wall to the right of the entry, from floor to ceiling, were large drawers with beautifully painted words in cursive writing identifying the items within the drawers: No handles or knobs, just slight cutaway handholds like an old flour bin. The room reminds me much of the ribbon shop (Millinery) in the movie “Pride and Prejudice” where the Bennett sisters ran into Mr. Wickam while shopping for ribbons and notions for the upcoming ball at Netherfield Park. It felt like I had been there many times, before.
Crazy fact, not months after I finished the manuscript of this book I found myself walking some very familiar paths in England.
Arrive in Lacock village and you could be forgiven for thinking you've just entered the scene of a recent battle or turned up to meet Mr Darcy for a dance at the assembly rooms.
World war II reenactment; P 38 Lightning
"International" haulers (H5) lined up in a row. Faithful herding dogs on hospitality duty, Binder stealing the show in his olive green Sargent's shirt. Situated behind Matt's display are the hardcore re-enactors with their set-up military city; tents, flagpole, cots, bedding, baseball mitts, "playing radio," supply tents and gear, authentic signs, medallions, and badges, including their attire. History well represented, girlfriends dressed as Rosie the Riveter.
"Tangerine" (on the song charts in 1941, written by Johnny Mercer & Victor Schertzinger; see fun lyrics and link on the reference page).
Living from eternity on earth. God, You are stunning! Don's mom Mary, was standing next to her beloved brother and we all hugged. She looked just like the pictures from her younger years that I had seen: intelligent, slim figured, full of wit and beauty. I noticed Harry reaching into the shirt pocket of his flight suit and then, with a grinning gesture, he handed me his wings. Through most of this encounter, my cheeks have been wet, as King Jesus unravels my heart. Heaven and earth have met with me inside the cockpit of that P-38 Lightning. I asked the Lord if "mantles" were given via marriage covenants. He just smiled at me as I said "Duh"! We do not fathom the realms of relationship and responsibility that He very much desires in our maturity. Unless He shows us, we agree and obey.
It has taken years of fighting the good fight of faith and believe in the spiritual realm He opened my eyes too. In times like these, it is difficult not to feel a bit of soulish sense of regret that wouldn't serve me very well. The humility that I am finally following through, following my scroll, using the perceptions that Jesus gave me, is worth a thousand lifetimes.
Item #6 Pilot wings added to my Valentine Window Box collage.
Framed and hanging in my husbands den. A familiar part of our household, I've dusted it many times.
2nd Lieutenant Harry Dowd: his & other brave hero's story is found in this book
July 17, 2017
A tiny Trail off the Rabbit Trail: Connecting all the little dots in the spirit takes nothing less than a “spiritual” company of help. Back in Chapter #8 Vulnerable Focus: Within the pages of the inner library encounter, Jesus and I were sitting on the face of time, He asked for the little book and had me to turn to page 93. I read, July 17, 2017, Completed. (07/17/17) Written in red. Do you remember? For those of you detailed people, you didn’t forget. One of the hidden purposes of the Lord for me to have my manuscript completed by that date was so that I would be available to take a crazy road trip with my brother Matt. Spending time with him at the reenactment open the door for an invitation of a 6-day trip to drive across country to deliver and pick up more World War II memorabilia. I completed the manuscript task well on time and was traveling that day in the heart of the US with two herding dogs at my feet, spending quality time with my brother. Make sure you catch some of the pictures on the website blog. Guaranteed to put a smile on your face. I have an unusual family and to tell the truth I blend in with them quite well. At times!
Armored order of angels: wakey wakey continues. My husband Don is a master technician. One-side to the benefits of having a mechanic in the house, acquiring cars is never an issue. The other side, is timely repair, versus "infinite" storage. At the time, I was driving an adorable old white Saab convertible. The top was a little worse for wear, and it had a great sound system, with an iPod adapter. Pinch me I'm in heaven. Year round the top of my car was open if it wasn't raining; during the winter, seat heaters turned on high. Tunes cranked. I was born a convertible girl. It was a beautiful late spring day in Oregon, with my faithful little Yorkshire terrier companion, Nikki. Early in the morning, a friend of mine had invited us for a walk along the Willamette River. I gathered my checklist: water, snacks, beach chair, and Nikki and I were on our way across town. I was cruising southbound through downtown Corvallis, music loud, top down on the car, just about to pass the historic Benton County Courthouse.
The last time I hollered Wakey Wakey!
Family Camp, Timothy Lake, The Spirit of Moses
And there is the annual "family camp": Providential or sending chills down your spine, five days, no showers only outhouses, campfires, sleeping in a tent; well those of us without an RV. More dogs than family members, an overdose of cured pork, and grandma always wants us to move the gazillion-pound park tables closer together. Families are an ever-changing foundation we call love, with a few other emotional tics in there. My folks, through there RV-ing "Recreational Vehicle" years, have graciously reserved a group campsite at Timothy Lake (Mt. Hood range,) closing in on twenty-seven plus years. It has been a re-occurring event ever since "Bob" was in a box! That's an inside joke for when my niece, Geordie, was a wee babe on her first camping trip. Her folks put her in a cardboard box because there was no elbow room next to the fire. It was raining cats, dogs, and elephants and all the young moms were holding toddler size jeans and boots over the fire which was covered with a fraying blue tarp. Oh, the memories. As a family, we have tried, off and on, a few other camping locations but returned to the peaceful, non-motorized lake with so many activities accessible in the shadow of magnificent Mount Hood.
Benjamin Angel testimonies
My Garden with Father
I was enjoying a season of cultivating a Kingdom that I was no longer in denial of or hiding its glories. I came out of the spiritual "closet." If someone asked me honest and hungry questions, I shared my encounters freely. Church, though significantly smaller, was walking through a season of repentance and change. We had a tremendous mess to clean up: a spiritual mess. Areas we had partnered with man's design that had nothing to do with the kingdom. Leadership, finances, coverings that didn't look anything like what we were now experiencing in heaven. In my personal "spiritual" garden I sat with the Father on the front steps of a grand brick home. Two stories, white shutters, right out of my love for all things Jane Austin. It was my gateway of first love, where the temple door from Ezekiel's vision exists. I am the gate, and my head is lifted up. Your garden and dwellings are kindred to your likes and dislikes. We'd talk, Father God and I, Jesus would show me other places in heavenly realms, I'd bring the encounter back to talk with Father and plant it in my garden. This Kingdom within me was growing and building my confidence in the spirit.
Then one encounter day, I was treading water and who do you think comes walking on water towards me? Jesus! Sometimes you just have to laugh at the similarities of Jesus acting just like Jesus in the Bible. He is a living Type and Shadow. Haha! He offered me His hand, pulled me up out of the water and now I'm standing on the water with Him in the middle of what seems like an ocean. I can barely see the shores on the horizon. Well, what's a good question to ask Jesus now? I asked Jesus about my "Destiny Scroll." Seems a bit pertinent after flooding your spiritual near and dear (treasures,) I'd say? Asking, “can you remind me again of where I am going,” Jesus reached into the invisible sky around us and pulled a glass screen, as if it had been hidden in a secret envelope all this time, and set a window for the scene. Mind you, we are still standing "on" the ocean. But there it is, my own private, ocean-side-view, "spiritual" white-board. He had my undivided attention. Then He, Jesus, reached over, putting His hand inside my heart, and pulled out my scroll. So similar to an architect spreading the blueprint open to view the plans. He proceeded to pin "my scroll" to the white-board/screen. Joining in, we uncoiled and spread this rolled up parchment, Jesus queuing me by grabbing my hand to hold up the opposite side. Brilliantly it stuck like paste, with I-don't-know-what, and it adhered to the transparent white-board. "In the middle of the sea, and my garden flooded." Aah!
Rungs on a ladder
Perspective revelations: I opened my computer the other morning, and something caught the corner of my eye, an insignificant gem, hidden in the beautiful architecture of historical library pictures I chose for screen-savers. Not an encounter, yet? My Screensaver. I did a Google search to see if I could find the name and location and was unable to retrieve information about this historical photo, regal library room, dusty old books housed on cherry wood bookshelves, floor to tall ceiling. Each aisle of shelves had a portable ladder, attached and able to slide on ladder-tracks connecting to the roof of the gallery. There is a white bust of an outstanding individual set as a marker between isles. As daily sitting at one's computer, maybe I had not noticed in the screensaver picture the rungs on the ladders. Imagine climbing to the top in search of a particular book. But there aren't any more rungs at the top! The last two steps in the rhythm of the design were missing. I'd never noticed that before. Makes sense in the practical way of things: what use is a stair or rung on a ladder if you run out of head-space? What sparks a gem of a moment, even though in this "library" it appears that you are at the top of the ladder:
The living memory (50s kitchen) I'm describing is familiar just like the farmhouse I grew up. Quaint, painted white cabinets, a window over the sink with gingham curtains, chrome-trimmed, grey and white table with four chairs. Vintage refrigerator with rounded corners, mud room leading to the back door with slamming screen door, Small kitchen garden out back attached to a large farm field, with a line of oak trees on the north boundary. Small intimate cottage to meet with the God-head. Where does one start, I spent a little over two years sharing communion here with all of "Them." The gate of first love, my fellowship place: as a transformational altar.
Along the editing trail...
During my quiet time with the Lord this morning I asked a question about His DNA, His blood. Scripture says that He walked entirely as a man in the flesh, laid down His divinity. That is why I asked. My DNA, a combination of father and mother, holds a family line of genetic inheritance: Good and not so good. Jesus DNA had no "earthly" father-line blood or semen in it. It was divine. I asked how does this make you fully man? A profound question for sure. I'm certainly no DNA expert. Then He showed me a picture/vision of a Mobius curve. I drew one for you and added it to the online community. I understand this as an eternal figure of eight, infinity sign. I have encountered a similar place in the heavens. Without being too scientific and outside of my experiential witness, I saw Him, Jesus, His earthly ministry, the cross positioned in the center of the figure of eight at the "crossing" over of this "Mobius curve/strip." Then the Lord reminded me of Saul, a man with heinous sins against the children of God, on the road to Damascus when He blinded him, called out to Saul, and the conversion took place. The Lord shared with me; this "crossing" over-place is where I changed his DNA. Saul/Paul encountered, "my" crossing over-place, it sheds some light on Jesus crucified before the foundation of the world. The crossing over place is part of eternity. It's the consummation of flesh when the flower fades and is blown away. Born into sin/born into righteousness. Every day in communion I partake of His flesh and blood. It is the crossing over-place.
Interesting to be writing about this in the chapter "Half Way"?
With that said: we will close the chapter drafted in the wilderness. Selah.
Help me, for a moment, to remember when I was describing the unique Valentine heart collage items in the first chapter: Didn’t I also tell you about the tiny gold snuff box? I think so. It was a gift from Melchizedek, and I placed the small trinket to the right of my computer, positioned to "correspond" divinely. I Googled “tiny gold snuff boxes” and cut, pasted, and printed the photo closest to what was in my spirit. I covered it with saran wrap, backed it, and taped it to my desk. Also, I shared how I encountered the hand of God holding my hand, and together we dipped "pen" into it, which revealed it was an inkwell. Remember, I described them in the first chapters.
Rabbit Trail: My pen is momentarily halted (I'm sitting outdoors), by the sweet sight of a sparrow couple taking turns bathing. This pair, washing the day's dust in the gurgling stream falling from the basket of my "lady at the well" fountain in my garden. She's statue'd in the middle of our Koi pond, highlighting my bitty feathered friends, the life-source of experiencing it together. Hearing Gods words stirs in my heart and rumbles around in my mind, penned. Life-source. Man shall not live by bread alone but by every word that proceeds out of the mouth of God. Life-source. It occurred to me in my pondering while still sitting in the spirit in this "inner" library, rolled up jeans, bare feet on the floor, bum planted on a chintz-covered ottoman just next to a bookshelf. Jesus is standing mid-room watching and waiting for me to exchange. The tipping point, the first half of the book for the second half.
Spontaneous poem of praise
Praise for the dove who answered my call.
Praise for the journey with my All in All.
Praise tho' the world be hurrying by,
Praise from my backyard, cool breeze, wet eyes.
Praise from the heavens &
Praise in the earth
Praise, now I worship and adore new-found worth.
Praise in the moment and
Praise out of time
Praise as I sit with this King of mine.
Praise in the day and
Praise in the night
Praise for the words to finish with might
Praise now I'm laughing, crazy to boot.
Praise on the mountaintop only with You.
Praise can you hear me.
Praise obey quick
Praise I said praise it's ready to tip.
Praise overflowing and
Praise from the well
Praise let's get louder oh rocks won't you yell.
Praise in the season of
Praise You've well known
Praise my impossible now un-throned
Praise to the coming
Praise to the day
Praise the uniqueness I found in this way.
Praise we are asking.
Praise we declare
Praise I am giving your gift to the air.
Praise surrounds glory
Praise lifts His throne.
Praise to my Jesus He unlocked the unknown.
The Kingdom of heaven is an expanse of territory and terrain that is first outworked in me. (the Kingdom of Heaven within) Then I follow the river through the temple door into The kingdom of His domain, the realm of Heaven. My heart looks different than His. Therefore my perceptions of His kingdom in me will travel through a process of change, transformation, opening ideas, and portals to explore. Like the tribes of Israel and their inheritance. Each one had the different blessing and opportunity to engage the dominion of the current (wilderness king) government there.
Jesus first led me into this particular library on the Eve of a New Year. I was seeking the Lord for insight and direction. Seated in the center are large round tables conveniently placed around the room just like a university library. There is a retrieving place to set the books you have taken off the shelf and a chair to sit and study/encounter. This particular morning Jesus took me into the room and pulled from the shelf a "cookie tin" that was familiar to me. I put Christmas cookies in it every year. Inside the tin was a handwritten note saying: “New Era.” I also was escorted into the same library room the following year. The word written was: “Container-ship.” Together we're learning something about the significance of the library. It has recorded information about doors into future eras. I'll pause there! If you're interested, I have made available the messages during this period and if you would like to listen in on some of the ways the Lord unpacked those "words." You may listen to the podcasts on Podomatic. See Northwest Bliss.
Page 94: Journaling Note: Yippee this works!!! from my iPad right next to the PC. Fascinating, in the spirit, there is a golden trophy, like a winner's cup, set up on top of my bookshelf here in my office, next to Michael the angel, the same figurine that also sat on my Grandma's shelf in her office.
This photo of my Grandma "Eloyce" Anderson, dropped out of my Mom and Dad's Wedding album when I was gathering pictures for there 65th Anniversary announcement. Now you can actually see "Michael" generationally speaking. I was thinking out-loud and wondered? Any chance that Michael the Arc angel was in relationship with my Grandma? Did she keep it a secret or did the framework of her denomination hinder her from truly having relationship? What do you think?
It was one of her desires to write a book and get published, She is very proud of me accomplishing The UnFinished Book. Sad to say this photo taken where the office looks tidy, her best intentions always had to clean the office first before creativity ever sat down. Food for thought.