To Hear with Different Ears

non-subject: "closed doors open"
aww ~ march 10, 2010
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I had prayed to God, telling Him, "God, I will not go to anyone to find out where to turn.  You have to send someone to me."

The void seemed bottomless; this hollowness in my soul; this plastic self I had become. My two most important commitments of life, my marriage and the Ministry, were false. I was a fake.

The priority and order of commitments were God first, then my marriage, then my kids.

I stayed in the marriage and I was staying with the Ministry for my kids. I didn't want to split the family up.  We were to be likeminded on the Word. I had to stick this out a few more years.

I'd waiver back and forth while hanging on to the doctrine, to the "household of believers." My husband John had said more than once, "There is nothing better out there," referring to a spiritual home.

There were no options outside the rightly divided Word of God.

But there were splinter groups, groups of people who had left The Way and started other ministries based on the accuracy of the rightly-divided Word. I'd read about some of them on Greasespot Cafe. Still, I didn't know where to turn or who to trust.

It may seem silly to people that I had such fear. The fear was real. How would my children get the Word? What if our family ended up divided?  What if the kids' lives crumbled; this is all they'd ever known?  Where would they learn the Word? Where would they hear the manifestations?

I couldn't imagine life outside The Way cocoon of knowing that one knows.

If I was going to leave, God...had...to...bring...someone...to me.  He had to make it clear.

I arrived at work at the King Baptist Daycare. I checked the office and grabbed the folder with my name on it, the folder where the daycare placed any notes or payments from parents. I carried it upstairs to the room where I taught preschool music, if one can really 'teach' preschool music. I never liked that term, "teaching" preschool music. I much prefer stating that I sing and dance with little people. We teach each other.

I glanced inside the folder and saw a sealed envelope with a stamp on it. That's odd.  Someone must have mailed in a payment. Hmmm...  I didn't have my reading glasses on so couldn't read the return address. It was time for me to start classes. I'll look at it after class.

I had a couple hours of music and dance with the little ones. I love their eyes and their imaginations. We can relate, me and little people, especially three and four year olds. They seem to always know exactly what it is they want and what they are communicating, if only us adults would learn to listen with different ears.

Once class was over and the kids were out of the music room, I went over to the tall counter to go through the folder updating payments. There was the envelope. The return address was Ohio.

What the hell is this?  How did they get this address at the daycare?

I opened the envelope. It was from Linda. Linda, whom I had shunned some five years previously when she and her husband and family had left The Way.

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Related post: I like the deep tone of buffalo drums...

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