Look to Minnesota in the New Year

When Wolfgang Mozart wrote his last major opera, The Magic Flute, in 1791 he had no knowledge of a place called “Minnesota”. In fact, at that time there was no such place in any formal way, as Minnesota did not become a state until 1859. However, this opera may have turned out to be more than a delightful and exquisite singspiel — it also may contain a prophecy…

Mozart describes a minor character who is simply a blackguard who tries to torture, etc, Pamina. His name is “Monostatos”. Hmm…odd coincidence? It happens to sound not unlike “Minnesota”. Well, in the opera, Monostatos is a rogue to tries to interfere in Pamina’s relationship with her stepfather, Sarastro. Monostatos also ends up trying to assist her wicked mother, the Queen of the Night. A nasty character indeed!

Now let’s turn to another odd coincidence. The Minneapolis Symphony changed its name some time past to be called the Minnesota Orchestra. They did not have to do that. In fact, that seems a rather odd thing to do. But they did.

Then, into the orchestra walks someone who has had a significant influence on the life of my children and me. Someone who, almost literally, crawled out of the woodwork at Orchestra Hall. This person did everything in their power to control our lives. Fortunately this situation did not last forever. What I call the lockout of me by the players occurred at that time. And this person, to my thinking, whose behavior qualifies them in the ranks of “the lowest of the low” can only be called “Monostatos.”

During the 18-month lockout of the MO players I attempted to bring this ironic situation to light, but to no avail. And so, I have let go and moved on. But an inexorable process may still be in place. “Monostatos” is apparently still embedded in their midst. But what may have been intended for ill might instead be working for good…

And all that goodness will take place in Minnesota…:-)

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A Simple Christmas…M4B*

Because of the persecution at the hands of my birth family, which included being systematically poisoned in their attempts to control this great gift of shalom that is die zauberflote and try to use it against God’s will, Christmas has a special meaning for me. I learned it the hard way. At the time, I could not understand why it seemed that God had abandoned me to people who insisted on turning themselves into monsters. Yet nonetheless I willingly stood in ankle-deep icy mud, at times with tears running down my face, and sang Christmas carols with the neighborhood children in my hometown of Fairfield, Connecticut. Although I came to realize that the persecution would intensify during the holidays, I fairfield house vnever lost my love of every piece of music connected to Yeshua, the Messiah.

But much of the hooplah came to make me quite miserable. The tree, the tinsel, the cotton batting on the mantle with a cardboard sleigh and reindeer, and of course, “Santa Claus” — whoever that was — came to represent to me an abyss of hopelessness.

“Let’s have our Christmas!” my Mother would chuckle, as she got out her notepad to record which gift was from whom, so we could immediately send thank-you notes for everything under the tree.

Well, that was it. The Bible sat dusty and untouched on a bookshelf, and everything swirled around who got what. And of course, I seemed to end up with items I had never wished for nor could ever use. That seemed to be part of the orchestration.

At the time, being quite young, it was all very confusing. Now, looking back, I can see how God has used everything for good, for I literally cannot tolerate anything having to do with Christmas that does not directly lift up the Lord Jesus Christ. I no longer ‘celebrate’ what I call ‘Xmas’. No tree. No lights. No wrappings. Just the music. And The Presence.

And I am richly blessed…I invite you to do the same…:-)

*M4B=Mozart For Believers

My Mother’s curse…and an interesting coincidence…:-0 M4B*

I sincerely doubt that anyone who met my mother, Katherine, was not bewitched by her charm and poise.  In fact, I would have myself, had I not also been a target of her vicious, even murderous, agendas.  When she was charming it was almost impossible to realize that she could, in an instant, lash out in a demeaning and disrespectful manner.  I quickly became aware of her dual personality and, even as a small child, never trusted her to be honest with me or look after my best interests.  In fact, by the time I turned four, I had come to realize that ‘nothing was as it seems or as I am told.’  It seemed that my Father just stood by and watched things happen.  My younger sister, Angela, seemed to hide and gloat, and did not, or was not able to, help me.

However, as a child, everywhere I turned, there my Mother was.  Only when I was sent to my room (the precursor to being grounded) or allowed to go outside after finishing my homework, to the relative heaven of the fluffy fields, stream and woods surrounding our dead-end street in Fairfield, Connecticut, did I feel that I could calm down and really think for myself.  Her influence was very controlling.

However, the commotion surrounding my most likely having been poisoned by her on more than one occasion caused a terrible upheaval in my birth family.  My Father almost succeeded in taking his own life when he figured out what had happened.  He spent quite a while in a hospital recovering.  During that time, my Mother decided to take things into her own hands (once again).  After returning from a session in New Haven with my Father and his doctors, she came into the livingroom where I was sitting and perched herself on the footstool to my Father’s chair.  At that moment, the air seemed to become both black and white around her.  There was a fearful intensity of negative energy.  Her eyes became black as coal, with a white light of some sort seeming to emanate from them.

“You are just like your Father, Pam. The same thing is going to happen to you!” she spat at me.

At that moment three black frogs jumped out of her mouth.  Not real frogs — something that looked just like ‘frogs’ in a spiritual sense.

At that point the black and white light dissipated.  She left the room and walked upstairs. I felt alone, and frightened.  In our house at that time the Bible sat on a shelf with other books.  It was rarely opened.  I had not read Revelation, and, at the time knew nothing about a possibly analogous mention of ‘frogs’ in Revelation 16:13.  I did not know what that meant at the time, and I can’t say that I do even now.  Some of those writing commentary on this verse seem to tiptoe around the fact that ‘frogs’ are specifically mentioned: http://biblehub.com/commentaries/revelation/16-13.htm.  All I know is that is that ‘frogs’ are what I saw that night…

*M4B=Mozart For Believers

 

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