I Am Stuck In My Ways Like A Mule In A Mud Pile. Who Gives A Hoota Balooka About It? No One! All Stuck. Can’t Pass The Buck Out Of Luck I Am Stuck! …

Backgrnd My face square tryout
Thia’s Journal—An ongoing dialog between thia/Basilia and Master Yahuwah/Yahushua. …

Wednesday, June 8, 2016 at 9:40 am

O my Teacher. My Beloved Teacher. So early in the morning this morsel of the bread of affliction You are feeding to me? What about the olive oil in which to fry a couple of delicious eggs with onions, green peppers, lots of garlic, cauliflower florets and all those spices to my body beneficial so I can function in the task You have placed in my flask?

“My child, My beloved thiaBasilia? Are you wanting and bickering and complaining because the garlic & onions of your slavery in Egypt you are not obtaining?”

Ah! My Master? What are You insinuating?

“My child, My beloved thiaBasilia? Are you yet without understanding this bread of affliction that to you I am rendering?”

Ah! My Master, my Beloved Teacher? Show me clear and without smear why this bread of affliction to me You are rendering and engendering this elusive fear of my just desserts for my lack of whatever it takes to sit still without bickering & complaining never ending …always looking out for my own fending?

“My child, My beloved thiaBasilia? Look around! What is there to fear in your right now surround? Beauty all around. On the brown ground. On the sky above. On the street below. On the especial tiles of your roof aloof and beneath your feet as you walk & sit on that chair in front of the nice screen of the super dupper latest model in the cybernetic Industry that I have for you with much care and concern I have supplied. Look around. There is much beauty to be found! And have you forgotten the beauty of My heart in the hearts of the ones for your care I have assigned?”

Ah! I am dumb found!

“My child, My beloved thiaBasilia? Pause. Reflect. Look at the beauty of My heart in the ones that for your care I have placed around on this brown ground of the world that you have for now found. LOOK! My child, My beloved thiaBasilia, LOOK!”

Ah! My Master—my Beloved Teacher?  Just one look. That’s what before it took. Even so? This gooney loony by the name of yours truly went ahead and? The wrong way she looked and back in the doom of dooms … She again? Forsook the way to look then found herself stuck like a mule in a mud pile in the way not to look that she partook. Now what? My Master, now what? What am I to do at that?.

“My child, My beloved thiaBasilia? Pause. Reflect. What it takes to be perfect? Perfect? Ah! You might in retrospect to Me exclaim and complain. No way! You might say! Oh? My child, My beloved thiaBasilia? Pause. Reflect. Do you remember?”

Remember? What am I to remember, O my Master—my Beloved Teacher? What is there to remember when my belly is crying out and my mind is churning and my feet are hurting and? And? And? What is there to remember when I can’t even think what it means to remember?

“My child, My beloved thiaBasilia? Pause. Reflect. Your bickering. Your complaining. Don’t you to Me you bust and outburst? Why prey ye such a thing—such a fling to Me you swing?”

Hum! Hum! What am I to answer? What am I to retort? O my Teacher! I am out of the sorts! Take the coal. Touch my lips. Burn the gross dross. Take the coal. Touch my lips! Make haste! O my Master, make haste! I am out of my wits!

“Behold! Pause. Reflect. My child, My beloved thiaBasilia? Pause. Reflect. To be perfect? Are you out of your wits to throw another fit? Behold! My child, My beloved thiaBasilia? Pause. Reflect. Behold! A sinner is now perfect …”

AAAHHaah! Dumb found on this brown ground! In silence … I worship You!

1 Comment

  1. I think the father is fed up with the seven churches, as much as any father with seven sons, who are worthless and cannot get along with one another. They refuse to even look at one another. Killing each other they all find to be OK. When the father returns, the seven churches are in for some, butt kicking I do believe!

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