We heard the sound of spiritual thunder. We didn’t know it at the time.

It was a sound I’d never heard before, the other two women didn’t recognize it either but we all heard it. It stopped our conversation, turned our attention, and caused us to peer out the window. One asked aloud the question, “What was that?” In the moment none of us had an answer. A flippant answer flashed through my mind like an inappropriate joke. Thankfully Wisdom’s been teaching me to keep my mouth shut.

We then returned to the reason for my visit, which was prayer.

Thinking with a clear mind, set free from the dark demons of depression, this is a strange experience indeed. I asked the LORD the day before to use the dynamite power of Jesus Christ's Name to blast away all the ruts my mind used, those thoughts which perpetually were making up defenses and excuses to explain myself. The accusations would come in familiar-sounding voices and yet completely disconnected from the person. What a ventriloquist the enemy puppets? I've allowed his residence for so long but no more.

In Ashley’s Harvest Moon Café on a Wednesday morn, it happens to be St. Patrick’s Day, 2021. Drip coffee, refillable for free, and a coconut chocolate chip muffin warmed just right, starts my time of labor here instead of at home. I don’t thrive being alone.

I observe. People watching, one of my favorite pastimes, has desperately been denied. A plethora of people right before my eyes!

There’s a man with a cap that speaks of a sailor past; his silver crown hides his story. In the soft chair he reads for a few hours and leaves; I’ve not seen a soul speak with him.

During my quiet time this morning, the Lord led me to read 1 Corinthians 13. This is the "love" chapter.

God's already convicted me of my loveless, clanging-cymbal sounds and my childish thinking, and especially the "thinketh no evil" section in verse 5. Today He, and when I say "He" I mean Holy Spirit, who is GOD and is my teacher because I am God's Daughter and I learn. Setting the record strait, I am. The depth of Scripture is never ending and revelations are forever findable when you look INTO the WORD of God.

To My PERFECT Father, ABBA,

William Henry True, III, is my earthly father. After his death, I received a children’s book explaining what happens when we die. It was signed in my mother’s handwriting. She signed it: from your Heavenly Father and your father in heaven. I was 11 years old.