Back in Louisiana, I grew up knowing myself in two names: tare-roll & ter-relle.
I wonder if the mispronunciation of my name over the corse of my life time has contributed to my inability to remember another person's name. Or, could it be that I just don't pay attention enough; that I'm not exactly "all-in" the communications process.
I'm wearing tights; I like them.
The revival went very well, I must say. I found myself lifting my hands, reaching for the fire that Jaime said she could feel whenever she was worshiping. The Parkinson Family has a real gift of inviting The Dove into the room.
I believe I felt The Dove there as it danced above the congregation: floating as if it were a wispy mist; or a fog that gathered in the early dawn of St. Mary Parrish, as it waits for the Sun's queue to fall.
fall it did
In the most casual of ways, the Spirit addressed us all. Glossolalia was given unto The Lord as The Parkinson's laid hands on Reverend Jackson.
I opened my mind to accept the flushing as well. Like the people of Jonestown, I was drinking to my death. The death of my body, my life, and Terrell, and to accept the life-blood of Jesus' sacrifice on Callvery.
So, last night--while Saturn was in Libra--The Aquarian Floods, that I've fore mentioned, watered the lakes and the village of Patton. But, what was most important was that the hearts and bodies of those gathered believers in that tiny church in the woods on Main Street were flooded as well.
The levee has broken; Where will you go when it floods?
