My Testimony…as a Believer*

I was born into a family of very nominal Christians, known as Methodists. The Bible sat on the bookshelf. My Father only prayed before dinner at Christmas and Easter.

I was quite talented, performing in singing, dancing and playing the piano from the time I was three. At the end of a recital performance when I was four, I saw a dark angel, an extraordinary being, which appeared to be standing behind my Mother. My first thought was that it must be my Father, but then I saw that my father was kneeling in the aisle of the auditorium, taking a photo. The air around the figure was an intense combination of white and black, vibrating. It was quite handsome; it’s eyes, however, were sullen red coals. I was shocked, and frightened at this vision. Then I noticed that the same glints of red also came through my Mother’s eyes. Later, I named the apparition “Lermontov” after Anton Wallbrook, who played the role of the dictatorial ballet manager in a movie called The Red Shoes. He had a resemblance to this entity. (Much later, in 2011, I went back to the Klein Auditorium in Bridgeport, CT. I laid hands on its doors and rebuked the enemy I had seen there.)

As a result of my encounter, I felt I had no choice but to hide the fulness of the gifts given to me until I was old enough to take responsibility for them. Unfortunately, that was not a good choice. However, as a result, I had what I thought of as a ‘typical’ childhood, though in a dysfunctional family. Nothing could have been further from the truth. There was more going on. My Mother was causing me bodily harm and my Father was protecting her. My sister, four years younger was no help, and, in fact, seemed to hide in the shadows and gloat when I was being persecuted. When family came to visit, there seemed to be a lot of whispering and conspiring of some sort. In utter hypocrisy, my family did attend church regularly and the church was a significant part of our lives. It was, as could be expected, a superficial environment. Ironically, the church was stunningly beautiful and had a full pipe organ, so every Sunday I was treated to Bach’s Toccata and Fugues. They also had paid soloists in the choir, so the lovely hymns were exquisitely-sung. At Christmastime they performed the Messiah. My love and reverence for the music of Bach and Handel started there…

At seven, after performing the Waltz of the Flowers on toe…the youngest one in the class, my Mother abruptly pulled me out of ballet, claiming now it was my sister’s tun. She also refused the horse riding lessons I had begged for, and instead insisted that I study art. I was, however, allowed to learn the instrument of my choice…the flute. That puzzled me at the time. Though it seemed I could hear the dark angel at night above our house, I was surprised that the energy of the flute was calming and seemed to be protecting me. How could this be possible, I wondered?

Then, a series of events turned things upside down. My Father almost died by suicide during my freshman year in college. I was horrified, and came to believe that the church had failed him, and God had failed him. I decided I could have no longer have faith in that God. At that time I had no understanding that Yeshua was taking the family apart because of what was happening to me behind the scenes. I unfortunately and foolishly stopped playing the flute. That summer, after my Mother returned from visiting my Father in the hospital, it felt like she tried to put a curse on me. The air around her turned white and black, and as she spoke, three black frogs came out of her mouth. It was quite terrifying to see.

After I graduated with honors from college, my Mother kicked me out of her house because I had found a job in New York City rather than in Fairfield. It dawned on me that the reason for sending me to college was not to gain an education, but to find a rich man to marry. That agenda had failed miserably. Again, this was God rescuing me from further abuse in that house. At the time I had no idea of this. The experience was quite traumatic.

I then met a man at the place where I worked whom I considered a knight in shining armor, as he took care of me. We married and moved to San Francisco. I looked at different kinds of religions, read new age books, briefly became a Rosicrucian, and came to think that Yeshua was one of the great prophets, but not the Messiah. But when I became pregnant with our first child, I had a terrible sense of unworthiness that I did not deserve to be a mother because I was not saved. But this was 1969, and I did not know how to be saved. So I read the Bible every night. I went to a Catholic church. I prayed the rosary.

When our first child was six weeks old, we moved to Boston, still gravely convicted that I did not deserve to be a mother. I then found out that I was expecting again. How could God be so good to me? I asked in astonishment. I was rebellious and unworthy. I could not believe this miracle, that God would bless me with not just one child, but two!

As I sat in the sunlight, the Bible in my hands, I heard a voice in my head, repeating the scripture, “And who do you say that I am?” “You are the Christ, the Son of the Living God,” said Peter. I knew that God was speaking to me. I knew I was saved. I was giddy with rejoicing.

And I began once again to play the flute. I promised God that, no matter what, I would play it every day… The only saved person I knew of was Saul/Paul, and I took his example to heart. I decided I did not just want to be a Christian, I wanted to be a disciple — to give back what had been given to me. But I returned to a Methodist Church, but because its teachings were so shallow, I learned nothing about the Word.

We moved to Minnesota and joined the Good Samaritan Methodist Church. My husband had a serious drinking problem and could become violent. When he assaulted me after our daughter was born I vowed that she would never have to live as I had, and left him. We divorced shortly after that.

I then began to study the flute seriously, with Sid Zeitlin at the Minnesota Orchestra, and later as a flute performance major at the UofM. But some strange things happened there that didn’t make sense and were quite overwhelming. I did not ask Yeshua if I should back away from the Minnesota Orchestra. In hindsight, I wish I had. I then met an orchestra bass player, who seemed like another prince charming. He pressured me to marry him, but I said I could only marry someone who was saved. Then he said he had watched Billy Graham and had become saved. He declared that he loved my three children. We did marry, and he later adopted my children, as my first husband had refused to pay for their care.

However, as we were packing up to move from our two apartments into a townhouse right after our wedding, I noticed his appearance suddenly change, his face and eyes glowed a sullen golden and there seemed to be something rippling under his skin. Later I came to think he might have shape-shifted before my eyes. I had never seen anything like it. I became frightened and devastated, realizing with a shock of despair that I did not really know the person I had married. I quickly came to see that just about all he had said was a lie. But why? I had no answer.

For about 666 days this man controlled every aspect of our lives. I could not afford to leave as he controlled all the money. He ridiculed me as a person and as a musician and also caused me bodily harm. But I did have the heady experience of practicing on the darkened stage at Orchestra Hall. I was also recorded there. It was a dream of mine come true, but it had come at a terrible price. It dawned on me that he was more interested in my children than in me, and so I began to fear and grieve for them, for what might be happening to them.

My children and I were going to the Jesus People Church, and I pleaded with them for their help and prayer. They pointed me to the scripture about the saved not being bound if the unsaved person leaves. They also told me to submit to him. I did so, and I prayed day and night. Lo and behold, when I started asking him serious questions about our relationship, he packed up in one half-hour and went to stay with a colleague from the Minnesota Orchestra.

By this time, I realized that this was the Zauberflote, and that it was a gift of the Holy Spirit. Evangelist Brian Ruud declared this when I played a movement from a Bach sonata at his revival meeting in St. Paul. Though I did not have much understanding of how the Holy Spirit works, I did realize that this could account for why there was so much havoc with the orchestra members and at the UofM. I found myself, essentially, locked out of the Minnesota Orchestra. When the players were themselves locked out in 2012, I realized that this could be in response to their treatment of the Zauberflote and myself.

I stayed single, and supported myself outside of music after that. It was a difficult and tumultuous experience. I was heartbroken and disappointed for the hopes which I had had for my children. My children were in the midst of a spiritual maelstrom. There were many issues in our lives and challenges that, at the time didn’t seem to make any sense. But I can see now that the enemy, this dark angel I had seen long ago, and still hear, at times, was trying to turn our lives upside down and turn us against each other. I had met a good Christian friend by this time who taught me about spiritual warfare, so I began to do battle in situations, using it, that appeared hopeless in the natural realm. Gradually, I would see the negative situations give way to stability and shalom. How could this be? I wondered. It was the grace of God, using the Zauberflote…

And, of course, I played the flute every day and did some performing. Somehow, things always managed to work for good, even though there were terrifying circumstances. I began more and more to see that the energy of the flute was helping to get the truth out of whatever challenging situation we might be facing, and then put everyone in a safe place. It was truly astounding. I could not thank the Lord enough. And, though I was not consciously aware of it, I sensed at that time, I sensed that the persecution I was experiencing was also a part of this great gift. In fact, I bear the stripes of Yeshua…these are they are but mild and temporal afflictions.

The Zauberflote was blessing us…prying us out of the jaws of the dark angel…

Then I met the love of my life ten years later, and he was a great blessing to us all, until he unexpectedly died in my arms in 2016.

After this, my first husband’s son died by suicide in 2018, and abject grief became my companion once again. There were days when I could hardly open my mouth to speak. I began to wear sunglasses, so that people could not see my tears. Still, I continue to make a sacrifice of praise, knowing that God has a wonderful plan…

I had been a part of a Messianic congregation off-and-on, since 2010. I had always felt this gift of the flute was a gift for the Jewish people, and most specifically the Jews who had survived the Holocaust. But I was not able to effectively communicate with the leadership about the Zauberflote. They ended up getting bits and pieces of my testimony, and it wouldn’t have made much sense. And then, some negative things were happening to them, which I reluctantly realized could be connected to the convicting power of the Zauberflote.

So, with sadness I stepped back, to wait for direction from Yeshua…

Just last week there was a surprise encounter which I can see was a blessing..

And so I am stepping out in faith and moving forward, not knowing whither…with my testimony and the Zauberflote. I invite you to help me in this historic endeavor if you feel led to do so. I ask that you not believe what I say, but test what I say and pray about it….

And if you would like me to play the Zauberflote for your needs, please let me know….I will be publishing the songs that come out of this weekly prayer time….

When you hear the Zauberflote you are blessed…

You can be richly blessed,

You can be blessed beyond all measure…

What are you able to receive?

Listen to the Zauberflote…and come into shalom…

*Mozart 4 Believers…

Is this possible Bob Dylan connection taking us to Warp Speed?

In the early years when I had moved to Minnesota from Boston — via San Francisco and New York City — I had never heard of Gustav Mahler. His music had been the rave of New York for some time — Leonard Bernstein being one of Mahler’s greatest champions. But I attended a luncheon concert of the Minnesota Orchestra quite by chance, and my life changed forever…

This was back in the days when the Minnesota Orchestra was not great. The players were bored. They were more interested in their poker games in the downstairs lounge at Orchestra Hall than they were in the music they were performing. They knew all the old war horses by heart. They did not even need a conductor. Even worse, the one they had most of the time was reportedly becoming senile. He had had to stop mid-stream in a performance of the Stravinsky Sacre du Printemps because he had become hopelessly confused.

–I should say that I was studying flute with Sid Zeitlin, the Principal Flute, at that time, sometimes at Orchestra Hall, so my recollections are either from things I saw first-hand or heard via him–

So there I was, sitting calmly in my seat on the isle, mid-section of the main floor, that morning, expecting to fall asleep as during a bad sermon, but still mildly hopeful of hearing something truly musical. I don’t recall the rest of the program. Whatever it was had completely lulled me into complacency.

The guest conductor that day was Klaus Tennstedt. I had not heard of him either, and was not terribly impressed with his first half of the concert.

I was prepared to accept yet another grim reminder of how not to perform orchestral music.

But then, the Mahler First Symphony began.

The ‘Titan’, it was called.

My ears perked up. Before long I was listening with my entire being. His world came alive to me. I was no longer just sitting in a cushioned seat — I was transported to another time and place.

The Third Movement, with its mocking motif of “Frere Jacques” caused me to sit up in shock. It was as though Mahler was describing the fallen angel in the Mozart vortex who attacks my family and me. Who had caused my Father to nearly succeed in ending his own life. How could he possibly know this? I wondered. Nobody else had ever done this.

The opening passage of the last movement shrieked inside my head. Mahler was speaking to me from the vortex. I shook my head in disbelief. I thought I was going to faint.

How did Mahler get inside my head? I asked myself…

And so he had…

And my quest began in earnest…

I became a frantic and fanatic Mahlerian. I have been so ever since.

And, according to his wife, Alma, Mahler’s final words were “Mozart! Mozart! Mozart!’

Mahler was the first inter-continental conductor, transiting by ship from Europe to New York. He was one of the first conductors of the orchestra that became the New York Phil. Carnegie Hall was his venue.

I realized that it was Mahler who had brought the Mozart vortex from Vienna to New York.

At a great price — he died at an early date and in a tragic way…

His widow, Alma, remarried and lived a long life. She maintained a home in NYC until her death in 1964.

But what happened after that? The fallen angel kept trying to attack and entrap my children and me in Minnesota. We seemed to be free-falling into the vortex ourselves, with no direction known.

That is, until this unique and completely unexpected possible connection to Minnesota-born Bob Dylan surfaced.

And now, it just may be that this is what is catapulting us into our destiny after all…

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