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Writer's Block…Not

~ …the making of a reluctant scribe…

Writer's Block…Not

Monthly Archives: September 2013

A Difficult Parting… Another story to tell…

30 Monday Sep 2013

Posted by Lynn Wood in Musings

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Archangel Michael, free will, God, heaven, hell, Lucifer

Michael left soon after.  It was hard saying goodbye, but he promised he would visit from time to time.  He’s kept his promise, though not as often as I’d like.  But even after Michael left I apparently wasn’t done with the firstborn yet, or they weren’t done with me.

Luciel kept his promise too…that we would meet again. He had his own story to tell.  Why he cared whether or not I knew his side of the story was beyond me, but I dutifully, albeit reluctantly agreed to take it down.

My new notebook didn’t work any better this time around.  Unlike Michael, his brother wasn’t inclined to attend morning Mass with me.  I thought I understood his reluctance, but I was so out of my depth I didn’t trust my assumptions about anything anymore, especially not the few I clung to in regards to the firstborn.  He tended to pop in whenever the mood struck him, when I was driving, at work, at yoga, on the beach…I was back to chasing down my sticky notes and any other scrap of paper I could get my hands on.

Not surprisingly, Luciel’s account of man’s worth was more frankly delivered than Michael’s. He wasn’t inclined to pull any punches to spare my feelings.  Fair enough.  The firstborn were forced to witness our failings. The least I could do was record them.

When he was finished with his account, he left too. Afterwards, the sudden silence reverberating around my head was disorienting for a while.  Eventually, I began once again collecting all my little scattered notes.  Apparently, I had another tale to tell.  Another story within a story.  There wasn’t much need to edit Luciel’s part.  His stark account of man’s history was disturbing and undoubtedly accurate.  Even if he was inclined to, there wasn’t much need for him to exaggerate.  We’re bombarded daily with accounts of the evil man is capable of…man’s inhumanity to man.

Still I was tempted to edit out one particularly disquieting example.  The older I get the more I’m troubled by the seemingly endless and escalating violence in our world…how it’s crept into our news stories, movies, television shows, books, games, until it’s become an acceptable and even expected part of our culture and entertainment.

But I resisted the urge.  What I couldn’t stand to hear or write about, other people were actually living through or dying through.  They deserved a voice. I doubt the innocent victims would disagree with Luciel’s assertion that man was unworthy of heaven.

The more I defended our species, the more he felt compelled to point out my refusal to accept the truth.  Man has taken God’s greatest gifts and twisted and corrupted them until we are barely recognizable as His children at all. Rather than ascend to the level of angels, we seem more intent on descending to the depths of depravity.  What scares me the most is there doesn’t appear to be any point at which God will step in and stop us to save us from ourselves.

For good or ill He has given man free will.  He does not revoke his gifts to His children.  It is up to us to stop our own descent into a hellish existence.

There doesn’t appear to be a lot of optimism on the part of the firstborn that we will be able to do so.

It’s all rather depressing to contemplate…

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What in the World Could He Possibly Want with Me?

27 Friday Sep 2013

Posted by Lynn Wood in Musings

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Archangel Michael, faith, God, heaven, hell, Lucifer, redemption, religion, spirituality

I wasn’t quite sure what I was supposed to do next, but I certainly wasn’t going to be the one to start the conversational ball rolling.  I kept my glance downcast, not that I could see them with my eyes. For me it was more of a knowing, a feeling of another presence.  I could tell the two surrounding me were both making an effort not to overwhelm my insignificance.  Michael was more adept than his brother. He probably had more practice at it.  I was surprised by the feeling of close intimacy between them, almost as if they were more than brothers.  More like twins.

I willed myself not to panic when Michael withdrew a little so as to give his brother some privacy for this conversation he requested.   He stopped a short distance away.  Despite my earlier intention not to break the silence I couldn’t stand it anymore.  I was hoping to get this encounter over and done with as quickly and painlessly as possible. “You wanted to see me.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I was curious as to the reason our Father sent my brother to you.”

“Me too.”

“You don’t know?”

“No, do you?”

He laughed at the hopeful anticipation in my voice.  “I think it is not for me to say.”

“Fine.”  I sighed away my disappointment. I didn’t really expect him to tell me.  The firstborn weren’t exactly the gregarious type.

“Your understanding is so limited it is difficult for there to be a shared reference point.”

I guess you didn’t need to be gregarious when you could read minds.

I could see his point, but then what was I doing here.

“I wanted to ask you something.”

Curious-er and curious-er.  “What is it?”

“You pray for me.”

I shouldn’t be surprised he knew my secret.  “Yes.”

“Why?”

I shrugged.  “If I was lost I hope someone would pray for me.”

“So you’re a sucker for lost causes?”

His sarcasm was grating, but I swallowed my snippy response. “No, not ordinarily.  I don’t really believe any cause is ever completely lost.  God heals all, renews all, lifts all.”

If it was possible for the firstborn to feel confusion, I could sense his.  “You still haven’t answered my question.”

Even though Michael distanced himself, I could still feel his protective presence close by.  I glanced back in his direction just to be sure and then turned back to his brother. “He loves you.”

I could feel his attention slide away from me towards his brother.  His thoughts were far away when he replied. “Yes.”

I hesitated, and then added softly.  “It hurts him…that you left.  He feels responsible.”

In the silence that followed I felt as though I added one more burden to the heavy weight he already bore.  He may find man’s existence irritating, but his brothers were a different story.  He loved them.  He felt responsible for them.

He finally pulled his attention away from his own musings to point out the contradiction in the explanation I offered him.  “You prayed for me before you met my brother.”

“Yes.”  It was a reluctant admission on my part.  A secret between me and God, or so I thought.

“I heard you.”

“Oh.” It was embarrassing knowing he could hear my prayers for his redemption.  Sort of like a stranger reading your diary.

“Why?”

It was my turn to draw my attention away from his direct focus to a place beyond wherever it was we were…all the way to heaven.  “It hurts Him, too.  He loves you so much.  I can feel His pain whenever He speaks of you…His beloved Luciel.”

Another long pause, before he spoke.  “The love between us was never at issue.”

I guess I understood that now.  I wanted to ask what the issue was, but I was reminded of his earlier comment and acknowledged the surety of his conclusion.  If I couldn’t even comprehend the question, how could I ever hope to understand his response?  Even if he was willing to share his reasons with me, which I doubted.

“You still haven’t answered my question.”

I shrugged and tried to explain why I felt compelled to pray for him.  “I don’t like seeing His pain…feeling it.  I know there’s nothing I can do about it, but He can.  So I pray you’ll get to go home some day and heal Michael’s pain, and fill the hole in God’s heart you carved out when you left.  You’re the only one who can.  Even if everyone else comes home but you, for Him it wouldn’t be enough.  For Him, for your brothers, there is no heaven without you.”

Heaven is not only lost to the fallen…Heaven is lost to everyone bound by love to those who fell…The reminder whispered through my mind and I thought I understood it better now after seeing the aftermath from both sides, from the perspective of the fallen and those he left behind.

I could feel his focus on me, the surprise in his voice when he commented, “You’ve grown.”

I brushed real tears from my eyes. “I don’t know if that’s true.  I hope it is.  If so, it’s because there were so many willing to help me along my way.”

“We will meet again.”

I didn’t know what he meant by that.  I was hoping it wasn’t a reference to my eventual eternal resting place. Before I could ask for an explanation, he was already gone.  It was Michael now who stood close, watching me.  I could feel his presence along with his amazement.

“You prayed for my brother?”  I guess when you could read minds distance wasn’t really a factor when it came to eavesdropping.

“Yes.”   More tears.  This time it was Michael who brushed them away.

“Thank you.”

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Heaven is a Myth…

26 Thursday Sep 2013

Posted by Lynn Wood in Musings

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death, faith, God, heaven, hell, life, meditations, religion, spirituality, theology

It’s true.  For those who have separated themselves from the source of all life, how can it be anything else?  They are like young branches on an ancient tree.  They are given life, they stretch, they grow, they flourish, they battle the elements, and they grow strong.  They are proud of their great vigor, their persistence against the wind, the rain, the snow, the icy grip of winter.  They become so delighted with themselves they assume they are the sole source of their strength, their accomplishment, their life.  They lose awareness of the roots that provide them nourishment, the trunk that supports them, and the sun that gives them light.  Until one day, whether by the act of a malicious hand or through the randomness of fate, one of them is severed from the tree.

Afraid and not understanding what’s happening, the branch is tossed about by the wind before eventually coming to rest on the unfamiliar ground, a great distance from where it once played among the clouds.  Separated from its source, the leaves begin to wither, the bark dries up until finally the branch shrivels in upon itself, wondering what it did to bring this calamity upon itself.  Eventually it is tossed upon the fire, or shredded for mulch.  The life it once knew and reveled in is over, never to be reclaimed.

So too for those who have separated themselves from their source, assuming they are the cause of their life, the singular foundation of their nourishment and support and growth.  When they fall upon hard times or the random sword of fate strikes, they wonder what they did to deserve such a curse.  Separated from their origin they fall victim to fear, to depression, and to death.

Because they believe they are alone…they are alone.  Because they believe heaven is a myth, it is.  Ironically though, hell is not a myth for them.  In their separation from the source of all life they have condemned themselves to death, and to hell.  For what is hell but the conviction there is no God?

God does not sit on a fiery throne in heaven judging His children.  He does not exile His children from His side.  We flee from Him.  In doing so, we condemn ourselves to the darkness of doubt and separation, to the conviction we are alone, to the myth there is no heaven, but somehow there is still a hell.

Heaven is not a place up in the clouds where the angels float around making music on their golden harps.  Heaven is found in our communion with the sacred will of our Father.  In knowing His love for us will never fail.  In knowing there is no death.  Like God, life is eternal, ever stretching, growing, and testing itself against the elements.  And like the branch that fell from the tree we only experience death when we equate life itself with the life we have today, or the one we once knew.

Life cannot be frozen in time.  Life, like angels, like heaven, like God, exists beyond the constraints of time and space.  Since for the moment we are trapped within both, let us not forget our source and condemn ourselves to the myths of both death and hell.

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Well, Here Goes Nothing…

25 Wednesday Sep 2013

Posted by Lynn Wood in Musings

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angels, Archangel Michael, faith, fall from heaven, God, Lucifer's fall from heaven, spirituality

I was hoping the old saying wouldn’t prove prophetic in my case.  I was aware the coming introduction made the possibility more probable but I was counting on Michael to intervene on my behalf if his brother attempted any funny business.

I tried to calm my fears with the reminder Michael loved him.  How bad could he be?  Okay, okay.  Stop.  Let’s back up a minute.  Did I just ask myself how bad the devil could be?  I really needed to get a grip here.  Whatever was behind the ruler of hell’s request for this meeting I had no doubt it was motivated by his own agenda.  How that agenda could possibly involve me, I couldn’t fathom.

God said no one could steal my soul.  Since I wasn’t about to give it up voluntarily I couldn’t begin to guess what this was all about. Besides I doubted Lucifer was particularly interested in acquiring my ordinary little soul to add to his collection.  The way things were going on earth these days, I doubted he was experiencing any difficulties fulfilling his quota.

I once asked Michael why his brother hated us so much.  In his polite, politically correct, trying to be as inoffensive as possible way, he admitted our existence irritated Lucifer.  Right, so I would try to be as non-irritating as possible.  For Michael’s sake I was really hoping to like him a little, but I didn’t think that would be possible.  It’s hard to like someone who was cheering with such unreserved enthusiasm for your elimination from existence.

I wasn’t quite sure what to expect.  My mother told me once it was ridiculous Lucifer was so often depicted as a sort of lizard-like being with horns and a tail.  He was an archangel. One of God’s highest creations.  Now that I’d spent some time with Michael, and remembering the way God referred to him as his son, I could see her point.  Having spent so much time in Michael’s company I knew there were vast parts to his being he couldn’t share with me simply because I was incapable of perceiving his true magnificence. I suspected the same would be true with Lucifer.  Man was so far removed from the reality of the firstborn our ability to find any common frame of reference was limited.

Still, to please Michael, I was willing to make the effort to be as non-irritating and polite as possible to his older brother.  As we approached, I could sense his presence and his wry amusement.  A silent reply echoed through my mind that my attempt would undoubtedly prove a futile one, at least as far as the non-irritating part was concerned.  Whether Lucifer was responsible for the response or I was now reduced to having a conversation with myself, I couldn’t be certain.

The closer we got the more terrified I became.  Michael was giving me plenty of time to turn around and run if that was my inclination.  Not that I hadn’t considered the option, but again it seemed to be a rather silly and to use his word, futile, gesture on my part.  If the king of the underworld was intent on this meeting, there was no chance of me avoiding it.  In which case I would rather proceed with it under his brother’s watchful eye.  There was love there…on both sides.  Even if I became incredibly irritating I was hoping Lucifer would restrain himself for Michael’s sake, out of his love for his brother.

Luciel, not Lucifer.  That was the firstborn’s name for him.  Luciel. The light of God.  The illumination of God.  How could he do this?  How could he have done what he did to Him?

‘A question far beyond your ability to comprehend…let alone its answer.’

‘I know.  Sorry.’  Michael seemed unaware we’d gotten ahead of his introduction.

I looked up to where I could feel him at my shoulder.   He stopped.  I stopped.  I felt him join us.  Michael’s joy.  Lucifer’s indulgence. Their reunion reminded me of an older brother’s amused but heartfelt affection for a much younger one and a younger brother’s answering adoration for his big brother.

Michael’s voice interrupted my musings.  “This is my brother, Luciel….”

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I Should Have Seen This Coming….

24 Tuesday Sep 2013

Posted by Lynn Wood in Musings

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angels, Archangel Michael, fall from heaven, God, heaven, Lucifer, spirituality

Everyone else obviously had. I shouldn’t have been surprised by Michael’s request.  The two were bound by love, by brotherhood, by ties so strong a little detail like falling from heaven couldn’t come between them.  Maybe I didn’t understand the connection between them but I recognized it in Michael’s voice, in every shared reminiscence, in the devastating burden he still carried over his brother’s loss.

So I did what I always did when I was confused or upset.  I ran to Him. On my way I went through my usual rationalizations whenever I was in over my head.  This whole thing was obviously a product of my imagination.  I was a writer.  I spent lots of time in fantasy land.  This was all just one gigantic fantasy I created in my head. I was actually impressed by the depths of my imagination.  Besides, I didn’t really believe in angels.  I never bought the whole story of hell and the devil roaming the earth searching for souls to steal.  So there was no reason for the very real panic I was feeling over Michael’s absurd request.  I should just close the book on this entire crazy detour of my life and get back to my young adult novel.

I probably could have convinced myself if I stayed away from Him.  The problem with all of my rationalizations was I knew God was, is, and always will be.  I knew He was the source of all life. I accepted man was not His only children.  There were lots of sacred texts containing stories of angels, the battle for heaven and the fall of one of the great ones.  It was more arrogant on my part to dismiss all of this accumulated wisdom than to allow for the possibility I had somehow fallen into the margins of their story. So I was back to my barely restrained panic.  Way in over my head didn’t begin to describe what I was feeling.

God wasn’t any help in sorting out my dilemma.  I knew He knew why I was there, but He didn’t seem inclined to cooperate.  He was obviously aware of my grand unspoken plan.  He would tell me He didn’t think this meeting was a good idea.  I could go back and report to Michael that it was God who nixed his request and I was completely off the hook and Michael couldn’t be mad at me because God was the one who said no, not me.

“Why are you being so difficult?  You already know why I’m here.”

“That’s not the way it works between us.”

“Fine.  Michael wants me to meet his brother.  You know…Lucifer.”  I whispered the last part even though it was completely unnecessary, since I wasn’t speaking out loud.

“And you don’t wish to?”

Was He serious?  “NO! Of course I don’t wish to.”

“Then simply tell Michael you’ve decided to decline his request.”

“He’ll be disappointed.”

“Perhaps.”

“I don’t want to disappoint him.”

“Then agree to his request.”

“I can’t.”

“On the contrary, you can do whatever you wish.  I gave you free will.”

“Ha, ha.”

“I wasn’t joking.”

“What if he steals my soul?”

“No one can steal your soul.”

“Really?”

“Yes. “

“Can I give it away?”

“Is that your intention?”

“Of course not!”

“No one can steal your soul.  Nor can you give it away by accident.”

“Okay, that’s a relief.  What if he does something awful to me?”

“I sincerely doubt that is my son’s intention for requesting this meeting.”

“You doubt?…Your son??!!”

“Of course.  This surprises you?”

I thought about it.  God was everyone’s father, right?  So that meant He must be Lucifer’s father too and fathers didn’t give up on their children just because they screwed up.  There were consequences for screwing up…like getting tossed out of heaven.  That was a big one.  I was more confused now than ever.

“Can’t you just tell me what to do?”

“No.”

“He can’t steal my soul?”

“No.”

“What does he want with me anyway?”

“There’s one way to find out…”

 

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I Should Have Bought Stock in 3M…

23 Monday Sep 2013

Posted by Lynn Wood in Musings

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Tags

angels, God

Those little sticky notes were everywhere, the tiny little 1”x1” sizes and the next size up. All of them covered with notes from my conversations with Michael. Since our conversations were usually conducted while I was in a meditative state and I wasn’t spiritually advanced enough to write and meditate at the same time, I was forced to rely on my memory.

After I left Mass in the morning I would rush out to my car and write down on whatever scrap of paper was available everything I could remember from my discussions with Michael. So not only did I have sticky notes everywhere, there were notes on the backs of checks, scraps of notebook paper, old bills…whatever I could get my hands on. I couldn’t risk waiting until I got home or I was in front of my computer because by then I would forget half of what Michael told me. I came to recognize this odd quirk as one of the distinguishing signs between revelation and imagination.

With my imagination I could weave a plot line in and out of my thoughts for days before I was satisfied with it. Over the months it took me to write an entire novel, I could retain the tiniest details of what came before and what I wanted to come next. But I found I lost the specifics revealed in my meditation sessions with surprising speed. For one dazzling moment everything was perfectly clear. Then it faded rapidly. Thus my race to the car, or to the nearest piece of paper and pen, from wherever I was. I learned from painful experience if I waited too long to get my recollections down on paper the contents of our discussion was lost completely.

I remember one morning Michael began his recitation before Mass and his story spilled over into the service. I was trying to concentrate on both at the same time. Michael, apparently forgetting for the moment the limitations of my human brain, was running through the events he wanted me to take down that day at a brisk pace. I was starting to panic. I knew there was no way I was going to remember even half of what he was conveying to me, and at the same time wondered if there was any paper left in my briefcase which wasn’t covered with the scrawling notes of my barely legible handwriting. In my frustration, I finally interrupted him.

“Could you just slow down a minute? How am I supposed to remember all of this?”

Michael was usually very polite. I could tell it frustrated him to deal with my shortcomings but he never brought it up. When I fell behind he simply paused wherever he was in his account and patiently waited for me to catch up. Today though his usual unfailing courtesy deserted him and he responded to my rattled request in a voice brimming with sarcasm, “Perhaps if you began carrying a notebook with you we could proceed with this exercise with greater efficiency.”

I was duly chastised.

“Yes, all right.”

I was organizationally challenged by nature, but for Michael I was willing to make an effort. I did go out and buy a notebook that weekend…a nice one…with the leather ties that close the cover and the standard size notebook insert so whenever I filled one up, I could simply replace the insert. The problem was I rarely had the notebook with me whenever Michael showed up, which was mostly at Mass, but sometimes at my son’s lacrosse practice or while I was sitting on the beach. He was gracious enough he only mentioned once or twice how a notebook would be of far more use if I actually carried it with me.

I’m not sure I ever actually wrote anything down on the pages inside the notebook but I did begin gathering all of my scattered notes from my car, my briefcase, the drawer next to my bed, pockets of my jackets, jeans, shorts…you get the idea. I wrote little numbers at the top of each series of notes to keep the sequence of each day straight, and then slid them between the leather cover of my notebook. Once I had them in one place, I attempted to arrange the little stuck together piles of notes into chronological order. This was a bigger challenge than it sounds because my handwriting is barely legible on the best of days, when I was scrambling to keep up with Michael, it became all but illegible to anyone but me.

Still I persevered. I sensed my time with Michael was coming to an end. Neither of us said anything but we both knew. Going over my notes of our time together made me feel a little better about the impending goodbye.

When I was finished collecting as many of my notes as I could find I looked down at the mess in front of me and wondered what I was supposed to do with it. Somehow I didn’t think this was what God had in mind when he asked me to write down Michael’s story. I felt a little guilty. After I read Michael’s notes, I felt even worse about my rather haphazard stewardship of his precious gift. But at least I finally understood my part in all of this.

I was supposed to write down what I was told, to bear witness and keep a record of what was, what is, and sometimes, what will be and share it with those searching for more than the answers this world can provide. My job was to provide context and relevance to a story that had no frame of reference in the physical world. So from Michael’s notes I wrote a story within a story to give a voice to the firstborn’s point of view.

Michael left before I was finished, but before that final parting, he asked a favor of me.

I was flabbergasted. I was certain I misunderstood his request. “You’re joking.”

He just stood there grinning at me. (Not that I could see him exactly, but I could feel him laughing at my stunned reaction. He was probably thinking to himself it was the first time in my entire existence that words eluded me.)

He didn’t bothering answering my question because we both knew he wasn’t joking. But beneath his silent amusement, I sensed another emotion. Hope. I understood then how important it was to Michael that I grant his request.

Knowing this only increased my panic because I knew there was no way I could say yes. He couldn’t actually believe there was any possibility I would agree to his request…could he?

I didn’t know how to say no. We’d become friends over the past few months. I loved him. I think it’s probably impossible to spend any length of time with Michael and not love him. So how could I disappoint him by refusing? Especially after he’d been so kind and patient and wonderful to me? Still there was no way I could agree to his crazy request. I knew what my answer was going to be, I just didn’t know how to tell Michael.

The silence between us kept stretching farther and farther until something had to give. He finally took pity on me. “Perhaps you would like to discuss my request with our Father.”

I grasped at the lifeline he offered. “Yes, please. Is that all right?”

“Of course.”

“And we’re still okay? You’re not angry?”

“We’re still okay. And of course I am not angry.”

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An Archangel’s Story…

21 Saturday Sep 2013

Posted by Lynn Wood in Musings

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Tags

angels, Archangel Michael, God, Lucifer's fall from heaven

It’s surreal to see the title of this post and look back over the past few years. I still wonder sometimes if it’s all real, but for the most part my endless stream of questions have slowed to a trickle, the clanging doubts in my head, largely silenced. God does that; slowly reels you in revelation after revelation, truth after truth, the impossible followed by the even more impossible until you can no longer question He truly is who you know Him to be. You can close your eyes and your mind to the truth. You can try to run away and hope He isn’t too intent on pursuing you, but you know in your heart at least there is no true escape. For where is there that He is not? What is there that was not formed by His hands?

Michael came back. I don’t really remember the first time. Only that he sat with me at Mass each morning, most of the time waiting until the celebration was over and the church grew quiet with only a few of us lingering in the silence before rushing off to work, or wherever our days would lead us. I think it’s easier to bridge the gap between our two levels of existence in a sacred place. For me, it’s easier to touch the divine when my life is focused on a spiritual course centered around prayer and devotion.

It took us a while to get to know each other. We shared a little bit about ourselves. Eventually, he told me the story God asked him to relate. It was painful for him and he only reluctantly shared it with me. I recognized he did so only at our Father’s request.

Lucifer’s loss was not cause for rejoicing for the firstborn, Michael especially. There is a bond between them, God’s elder sons, His greatest creations, that we are incapable of understanding in our primitive state.

How can man understand the true nature of love, when our civilizations are so focused on violence? We are so self- involved we cannot grasp the oneness of true communion. We look at Michael’s triumph over his brother and assume the firstborn share our aggressive natures and must congratulate him on his victory. When the truth is to this day they mourn their brothers’ loss as if they were the ones who fell. For the firstborn understand what man has yet to grasp. There is no separation. When one falls, all fall from the perfection of heaven. In what we perceive as his greatest victory, Michael suffered his most devastating loss. Heaven is not only lost to the fallen. It is lost to those who are bound by love to those who fell.

Life is indivisible. Life is one. We cannot wage war on our neighbors without killing ourselves. We cannot stand aside and watch the rape of the innocent without sacrificing our own. We cannot continue to abuse this beautiful planet without robbing our children of their futures.

We don’t learn this one simple truth. There are not men. There is man. We are one. Until we do, we are destined to repeat our violent bloody past over and over again until we either learn this truth or we destroy ourselves.

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Crunch Time…Yes or No?

20 Friday Sep 2013

Posted by Lynn Wood in Musings

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Tags

Archangel Michael, faith, God

“Sorry.”

I whispered the apology in my head.  Since He was irritated with me I hesitated to remind Him He hadn’t made a request of me yet.

“I haven’t had a chance.  You’re the one who’s been doing all of the talking.”

“Sorry.”

His sigh rustled my hair.  I didn’t like disappointing Him.  I didn’t like it when He was angry with me.  Though He would tell me He wasn’t angry.  When I asked Him once if He was angry with me, He replied that, No He wasn’t, and if the time ever came when He was angry with me, I wouldn’t have to ask.  I would know.  Right.  So I didn’t ask. I let the silence extend between us to give Him a chance to relate His request of me in His own way and time.

“Michael has a story to share with you.”

“All right.”

“I want you to write it down.”

“All right.”

“Am I asking too much of you?”

“No, of course not.”

“Good.  Then let us begin.”

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Even God’s Patience Has its Limit…

19 Thursday Sep 2013

Posted by Lynn Wood in Musings

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doubt, faith, God

“Why?  Why?  Why?  Why? Why? Why?  Why?………”

“Must you continue to weary me with your constant questions and endless doubts?  Isn’t it enough for you to know it would please me if you honor this small request I’ve made of you?”

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Was I Insane…?

18 Wednesday Sep 2013

Posted by Lynn Wood in Musings

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Tags

angels, Archangel Michael, faith, God, heaven, inspiration

Given the circumstances the question begged an answer.  I was okay with the occasional visit from departed loved ones.  Having a pretty much ongoing conversation with God didn’t particularly throw me, either.  Billions of people around the world prayed.  The minority was more likely made up of the ones who didn’t.  Lots of people reported encounters with angels.

Individually my experiences were not that noteworthy.  Taken collectively though, one had to wonder.  Perhaps someone predisposed by genetics and family history was more likely to have such encounters than someone else who had a predisposition to music or athletics or genius.  It seemed a reasonable explanation, but still I wasn’t sold on the whole angel thing.

So I decided to do some research.  The Internet wasn’t much help. Even if the answers I was looking for were out in cyberspace somewhere, there are so many paid ads at the front end of any search results, unless one was willing to spend days sifting through them, the Internet was all but useless for this sort of thing. I went to the book store instead.  I wasn’t seeking cutting edge research.  The answers I sought were more likely to be found in old books and sacred texts than online.

I was surprised by the lack of information on angels.  There were the usual stories about personal encounters, but very little about angels in general.  There was even less about the Archangel Michael.  A few lines in the Bible and other sacred texts.  Which shot down one of my favorite theories to account for the mysterious passage at the end of a chapter in my novel.  I assumed I must have read something somewhere along similar lines and forgotten about it.  Then for some as of yet unknown reason I dredged it up from my subconscious and recorded it on paper. That theory was seeming more unlikely as there didn’t appear to be anything available for me to have read in my past.

The one reference that kept coming up was Paradise Lost, the epic poem written in 1667 by John Milton.  Though considered one of the greatest literary works of all time, I never read it.  I was so curious why it kept coming up in my searches about angels I purchased a copy that day and read it in a single sitting.  Actually it was fascinating and definitely along similar lines of my own experience.  The poem tells about the fall of Adam and Even from the Garden of Eden, and about Satan’s temptation of man.  Fascinating, but not much help.

The only other thing I could remember reading about angels, and coincidentally, Satan’s temptation of mankind, was by Taylor Caldwell, who wrote a bestselling book published in 1967 about a series of letters between the Archangel Michael and his fallen brother, Lucifer.  The author claimed she didn’t write the letters, she was merely the recorder of them.  An interesting admission, particularly for one of the best-selling authors of her time.

But back to my own dilemma.  After all my efforts,  I was still left with the mystery of why the Archangel Michael decided to pay me a visit, brief though it was.  And there was only one person, (I use the term loosely of course), who could provide the answer…besides the source himself.

So I headed to early Mass one Saturday morning armed with my research and my questions and my doubts to confront the Almighty. I waited until Mass was over and the church grew silent.  I was glad I didn’t have to rush off to work.  I figured this was going to take a while.

It was a Dutch standoff of sorts as to who was going to blink first.  God does that sometimes.  I think my opinions amuse Him for the most part, though He’s usually polite about it.  I was the one who blinked first…big surprise. I told Him about the mysterious passage in my novel, that it seemed to be written from Michael’s perspective…or at least from one of his angel brothers’, since he referred to Lucifer as his brother, and then about my conclusion I must have somehow dreamed up the passage myself and just forgot I wrote it down.

God let me babble on and on about how this couldn’t possibly be real, how I didn’t even really believe in angels, and even if there were such things as angels, why would one pay me a visit and leave this cryptic little note behind?  Eventually I grew frustrated by the silence on the other end and finally wound down.  “Well?  Aren’t you going to say anything?”

“I was waiting for you to take a breath so I could get a word in.”

Oh.  That happens a lot too.  I’m so busy telling God how things are, when if I just stopped talking long enough and gave Him a chance to respond our conversations would be easier on both of us.

“I just want to know if Michael, or one of his angel brothers, was responsible for that passage, or if I’m going crazy.”

“The two aren’t necessarily mutually exclusive.”

“Ha. Ha.”

“Why do you always twist yourself up in such knots trying to come up with a ridiculously complicated denial of what you already know to be the simple truth?”

“The truth isn’t always simple.”

“Yes it is.  The truth is always simple…not always easy, but always simple.”

“Okay, I don’t want to get into some kind of philosophical discussion with You here.  Was it Michael or not?”

“Yes.”

“Yes??!!!”

“Yes.”

“What did he want?”

“Did you ask him?”

“No. I didn’t have a chance.”

“Then perhaps you should wait until you do.”

“He’s coming back?”

“Is that a problem?

“I don’t know.  Is it?”

He laughed. “Go home.  We’ll speak again tomorrow.”

“And tomorrow You’ll tell me what’s going on?”

“Perhaps.”

“Why are You always so mysterious about everything?”

“Am I?  I might ask you why you always have to know everything before it happens.  Why not just let life play out in due course?”

I had to admit He had me there.  I was always pestering Him about what was going to happen next.  Still it was easy for Him to be so blasé about the future.  He already knew everything that was going to happen…

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