‘Papa’ and the Odd coincidences of ‘1’ and ‘9’…

4.11.2020

As waves of desolation wash over us as a result of this CV-19 Corona virus plague, I have found myself just holding my breath, waiting for the next round of bad news.  It has been a rollercoaster for all of us, unprecedented in our lifetimes.  I am originally from the NYC metro area, and the images and statistics there have seemed almost unbearable.

However, even though my daily routine, as all of yours, has been turned upside down, a few things have remained in place…simply because I have done them every day no matter what.

In the morning, soon after I get up, I read the Bible.  In fact, I recite Psalm 19.  It is a glorious statement of God’s love through His incredible creation of the earth and heavens.  It also happens to be the epitaph on the grave of  NASA’s extraordinary and controversial Wernher von Braun.

I have had a connection to Wernher for almost as long as I can remember. I probably could have met him. I wish I had.  I did not realize the significance of his influence though until fairly recently, and, when I did, I decided to honor him by declaring his favorite psalm every morning.  That photograph, by the way, was taken at Edwards Air Force Base in Lancaster, California. I have spent time there at NASA.  The dry lake bed there was a backup landing location for the space shuttles.

Every evening I declare Psalm 91. This is the Psalm of protection. I claim its protection over all my family and friends, and now, over our lands, and people everywhere;

Like bookends, 19 and 91.  I just realized that…

Somehow, that’s helping to keep me grounded…maybe it will you too…

Update, February 18, 2021

I call him Papa.

I believe he is the real-life Sarastro (of the prophecy) of the opera The Magic Flute…

He would love this…

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Update 7.2.21

Well the gov’t has just released a non-report on the existence of UFO’s…

It seems to add to the mystery of it all.

But it has occurred to me that it is not impossible that all this fuss about UFO’s may have something to do with Minnegeddon — which is where the truth about what happened to Wolfgang Mozart is revealed. And I do think all of this is connected to Mozart’s last major opera, The Magic Flute, which, as you might begin to sense, I think has come alive… So we are all living in the temple of Sarastro, the temple of Isis and Osiris. Sound familiar? NASA just loves to use ancient Egyptian names and symbols for all of its endeavors.

Let’s carry this unique idea a bit further. If WVB was taken to Roswell after the craft crashed (well, wouldn’t he have begged to do that?) and then realized that the moon could have been a stopping place for it, that could have fueled his passion to send a man to the moon. He then linked up with JFK, whose family also happened to have a Nazi connection, in that Papa Joe was a Hitler appeaser of such conviction that FDR fired him from his job as Ambassador to the Court of St. James. So WVB could have assumed that JFK would be a loyal protagonist for his cause. The US was in a dismal second place in the space race when JFK took office, which meant WVB would have to reunite his team — half of them had gone to the USSR, which was making steller accomplishments in space.

The objective would have been to search for alien life and installations on the dark side of the moon, as well as to begin to establish a presence in space which would ultimately lead to WVB’s other and even stronger passion — to go to Mars.

And here we are today, with missions in the works to go to Mars. They are led by a man named “Elon”, which WVB happened to prophetically mention long ago in his treatise on Mars…

So Wolfgang Mozart’s imagination has created the environment in which we are living…which includes Egyptian mythology, possible alien life, UFO’s, and the universe outside of earth…

Update July 6, 2021

Doing my Dylagence research, I just happened to note that his uber-famous song, Like a Rolling Stone was released on July 20, 1965, which happens to be the day of the Apollo II moon landing in 1969…

Not sure what to make of that, but it is hugely interesting…it may be that Dylan’s references to Isis and Osiris, plus the use of the tarot, and other symbols of Egyptian magic, such as the Eye of Horus, may have a connection to NASA and Sarastro’s temple. Dylan may have been telling us all about what happened to Mozart all along…if we just knew where to look…

My High School Equestrian Experience…

When I was a teen-ager, my parents insisted that I attend ballroom dancing classes given by the lovely and renowned Irene Comer at the Patterson Club in Fairfield, CT. Apparently, I was supposed to learn not only how to dance but also some social graces that would help me to meet the ‘right’ kind of young man. But I didn’t want to meet young men. I wanted to ride horses.

As it turned out, my best friend at these classes was a boy with the same birthday as mine — Dicki Bonnett. We got into all kinds of trouble in school and out, as he was something of what you would call in those days a ‘wise-acre’. But when we could, we kept company at the ballroom classes and he let me know when he had straight pins stuck outward in the lapels of his white dinner jacket that he would jam into the other unsuspecting young ladies as he crushed them close to him. He was like that.

But when I was circulating — as one was supposed to have many dance partners — I found myself dancing with the dazzling boys from the Hill. This is Greenfield Hill. It was mostly full of large estates and horse paths. My father was an engineer — a transplant from South Dakota — so we lived humbly at the bottom of the Hill. These boys were entitled.  They knew they were wonderful. They were also horrible snobs. They had everything. Even estates… with stables. That meant horses.

And so I found myself turning the pleasant patter expected of us toward the subject of horses. And before I knew it, I had a number of places where I could ride. My parents were refusing to help me with riding lessons in any way, so I thought this was an viable alternative.

So a few times a week I found myself riding before heading to Andrew Warde High School. Frequently we would ride on the wonderful horse trails throughout the Hill. One of the paths led to the beautiful Merritt Parkway, which happened to be a main throughway to New York City in the early morning hours. And there, on the 20-foot-wide stretch of grass was a riding experience of a different level.

And so, on one of those rides, a simple race along the grass turned into the horse taking the bit in its mouth and trying to run away with me. Fortunately, it tried to unseat me by heading toward the low-hanging trees, rather than into the traffic. (I have to admit that was one of the dumber moments of my white-knuckle riding days.)

My parents never knew. And as long as they insisted on paying for dancing lessons I smiled sweetly and went along with them. But, of course, it was a cheshire cat smile…

What is Minnegeddon?

Minnegeddon is a name I chose to account for a number of seemingly-unrelated events that, in fact, may be connected to the lock-out of me, the Other Mozart, by players of the Minnesota Orchestra.  That happened some time ago, and may have been the underlying reason for the recent 18-month-long lockout of the players by Management. Don’t get me wrong — I am not trying to spin some crazy story.  And, I could be mistaken. However, there have been enough odd events for me to want to attempt to define a framework for them.

You see, I play die zauberflote.  Not the opera.  The real magic flute.  The players are well aware of this, and staged a revolt because, apparently, its sound put their playing somehow at a disadvantage.  Not that I had anything to do with this, mind you.  I was always friendly and humbled by the opportunities I believed I had been given by the man I call “Monostatos” and his colleagues to practice on the darkened stage at Orchestra Hall.  As other players crawled out of the woodwork I at first thought I was winning them over.  But there was instead apparently an agenda at work — to discredit me with slander and make sure that I never had the chance to compete with them again.  My three wonderful children have also suffered greatly because of the vicious cruelty of “Monostatos” — who also happens to be their ex-stepfather.  I cannot tell you depth of the the anguish that I have experienced on their behalf.

But you see, die zauberflote always works the same way.  Whenever it is played — with a proper introduction or total disrespect — it goes in and gets all the truth out.  Then it starts using everything for good.  It stops even the hidden agendas in their tracks.  And then, those who plotted against it end up with the consequences intended for their victim.

Believe me, after all this time, I am something of an expert on this.

So, as the opera Die Zauberflote, contains tests of all the elements, wind and waves and tragedy and building collapses in areas where the flute has been played might only to be expected.  And, since this is an opera, staged in the greatest house in the world — or it was when I was a child going to it on class trips every year — it is only logical that as Minnegeddon is playing out in Minnesota it has also created tumult at the Met…http://slippedisc.com/2018/03/just-in-james-levine-sues-the-met-for-unfair-dismissal/#comment-418133

 

 

 

 

 

 

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

“Minnegeddon”, and what it might mean to you…M4B*

As the locked-out Other Mozart I have a unique perspective. In fact, I sincerely doubt that anyone who knows me — be they friend or foe — would disagree with that statement. I see things, as it were, from inside an opera — things are either blissfully wonderful or truly horrible. I even saw what I call a ‘dark angel’ long ago, whom I came to believe goes out of its way to try to cause trouble for me and my family, so I have no doubt that there is an adversary I have to deal with every day…

If my thesis is correct — that Wolf was given an unusual gift of shalom — of the Holy Spirit — that those around him tried to steal from him and refused to confirm — then it follows logically that his death, whatever the technical cause, was an assassination. In fact, looking from my perspective, it seems a miracle that he was able to live as long as he did and succeed in giving us such a prodigious output of masterpieces that have held their own and are beloved over two hundred years later.

And, if it is the case that Wolf was assassinated because of a gift of the Holy Spirit, there is enormous support in the Word that God will not let that go unpunished. In fact, we learn from Annanias and Sephira, that anyone who deliberately tries to steal from God can drop dead on the spot. We can, in fact, see after Wolf’s death, that some rather strange things happened to those around him, including Salieri, who went mad, Puchberg, who died broke, and Constanze, who turned into a money-mongering hypocrite, pretending to further Wolf’s work but really just wanting to make money.

But I doubt that the saga ends there. I think, throughout history, that those who produce and perform Wolf’s music, while having contempt for him and his Gift (the movie “Amadeus” is a litany of that contempt, imo), run the same risk those who knew him did. They too are forever affected by his music, as this Gift is carried with it, wherever Wolf’s music goes.

And so, I believe, a Minnegeddon has begun. All that has been hidden about Wolf is coming out into the open. All the money stolen from this Gift is returning to God. And those who act in deliberate contempt can face dire consequences. In fact, from what I see, people stumble into what I call the Kingdom of the Night. It is a kingdom with a heirarchy. At its head, pretending to be a gentle Christ, is the dark angel I call The Night Magician. The actual heavens are closed, and these unfortunate souls seem stuck in this ultimately frightening place, until they come to the real God with real repentance. This kingdom has its own churches and schools, so many do not realize they have been deceived. The lucky ones are those who do not fit, and who are ‘chastised’. They may encounter imbalance in their life, they may even hear this dark angel attacking them. Such happened, in fact, to the player I call “Monostatos”, who kept hearing what they said was a ‘riding-crop voice’.

If I am correct, as events play out, everything having any connection to Wolf will, in fact, end up being turned inside-out. And, if you have anything to do with Wolf or his music, or me and die zauberflote, the same may be true for you…

*M4B=Mozart For Believers

Why not Mahler, Norman? (part one)

A while back music critic and arts lover Norman Lebrecht wrote a somewhat impudent and controversial book about Gustav Mahler, called ‘Why Mahler?’ Even though Mahler’s music was at last standard fare with most symphonies, his stated intent was to bring additional attention to the symphonies and lieder of Mahler. The central focus of the book was apparently to ask and answer the question of what value Maher and his music have for us today.

As curious as this book is, there may be wider and even more significant implications to Mahler and his life than anything Mr. Lebrecht has posited. In fact, Mr. Lebrecht might have deliberately slanted or eliminated significant facets of Mahler’s life, possibly even for some mysterious agenda of his own. Some of these significant issues may, in fact, have something to do with me and the Zauberflote.  And Mozart. And New York City.

Let me explain…

If I am correct, when Wolfgang Mozart died some sort of vortex of energy was created.  It was centered at the house where he died, on Rauhensteingasse, in Vienna.  It may have been created from the energy of the unusual and additional gift in Mozart’s music — something I call a ‘gift of shalom’. It is also the ‘Zauber’ in the Zauberflote. Something unique. Something overwhelmingly controversial. Something sublime. It has also been labeled “The Mozart Effect.” Exactly what happened to Wolf is another story, and one that I won’t go into now, but let me just say that it seems to me there is still a great mystery around Wolf and his death, and the existence of such a vortex just might be part of the explanation.

Mahler found his passion for composing in Vienna and spent much of his life there.  Did he sense the vortex connected to Mozart and his music?  Did he step into the mystery of what happened to Mozart and why, as, for example, I think Beethoven did? Or could he have been unsuspectedly pulled into this vortex of powerful energy?  I ask this question because of what he decided to do at a critical point in his life.

When working with the Vienna Opera became unbearably painful, Gustav Mahler set his sights on America.  New York City, to be specific.  He became the first globe-trotting conductor of great stature.  In fact, for the last five years of his life he traveled back and forth between Europe and America, conducting with the newly-funded New York Philharmonic.

All right, you might say.  A couple of interesting coincidences…

But there is more.  Mr. Lebrecht fails to include any mention of what Gustav’s wife, Alma, said about her husband’s last words.  What were they?

“Mozart!  Mozart!  Mozart!”

I boldly proclaim that this exhortation puts dear Mahler in the center of the Mozart vortex.  Not only that, but Alma actually moved to New York City after his death, living at 120 E. 72nd street.  She died there in 1964.  So was she aware of his possible connection to the vortex?

Mr. Lebrecht knows of me from my posting on his popular Slipped Disc blog during the lockout of the Minnesota Orchestra players.  I hoped, as a fellow Mahlerian (for I am indeed also obsessed with Mahler and his music) that he might listen to what I had to say.  I explained that I felt I  had an unusual and tangential connection to the lockout, in that previously some of the players, whom I have no choice but to call “Monostatos” used the stage at Orchestra Hall as a device to threaten and discourage me and, in effect, lock me out.  I had hoped for at least a sympathetic ear.  But, instead, Mr. Lebrecht allowed a music critic from Chicago (where I was born, incidentally) to attempt to slander me on that blog. That attempt was not successful and, ironically, Andrew Patner collapsed and died unexpectedly a few months later.  So it was at this point I accepted that I had not won over Mr. Lebrecht, who boasts of 1 million viewers a month on his blog.

Let me finish by stating that because of my Father’s job as a metallurgical engineer, our family moved from Chicago to the New York City metro area when I was three and I grew up in a nearby town in Connecticut.  Later I moved to New York City, living not far from where Alma had lived.  My dear husband Donner, who passed away tragically and unexpectedly this spring, grew up in the same neighborhood.

And so I ask you, and Mr. Lebrecht, to consider the possibility that the importance of Gustav Mahler has yet another dimension, one certainly mysterious but perhaps even more profound than of those we already know.

Did Mahler bring the Mozart vortex from Vienna to New York City? And, if so, what are the implications?

I thought we would grow old together…M4B*

bluexmas2016I felt that I had been looking for Donner Brown for a good part of my life.  We crossed paths many times when we both lived in New York City (his hometown) but never met.  I even stopped regularly outside the open doors of the Metropole jazz bar to listen to the great music.  I never went in though.  Donner was often inside, downstairs, playing the guitar.  Donner went on to be a well-known session player in New York and LA.  He also played and recorded with Donovan.  Donner was a bluesman, and whenever he picked up a guitar everybody stopped to listen to him…until arthritis made it difficult for him to play…

Ironically, it was not jazz, but the assassination of President Kennedy that ultimately brought us together.  I was posting a controversial theory about the limousine on a newsgroup, and Donner was the only one standing up for me.  When we did meet I realized that life had hammered us down but that we were lucky to have found one another.  Along with the overwhelming sadness of losing him suddenly this May, ironically, on JFK’s birthday, comes an equally powerful sense of gratitude.

I thought we would grow old together, a little Jewish couple (Donner was born a Jew), confessing Hebrew scriptures under a prayer shawl, but that was not to be.  Donner was saved.  He loved Jesus, so I know where he is.  It is my wish to create a living memorial to him by dedicating this concert to him.  I hope you will join me.  (I took that photo of Donner in Dallas, on the roof of the Grand Hotel.)

*M4B=Mozart For Believers

Minnegeddon Revisited…M4B*

Long ago, when I was a flute performance major at the UofM I said to a fellow classmate, Greg, “Some day there will be a Minnegeddon at Orchestra Hall.” I remember clearly saying that, but I don’t recall exactly why. By that time I had already come up against the dead-end that studying with their Principal Flute, Zeitlin, appeared to represent. He had, in fact, tried to convince me that I was ‘too old’ to play in an orchestra, so should become a university prof. But when I did that he went into a tizzy. “I can teach you everything you need to know!” he stuttered and spat at me. By that time I was thoroughly confused. And so, by the time I spoke to Greg it seemed logical to accept that there was probably some sort of conflict between me and the Minnesota Orchestra. Less logically, it seemed that Sid tried to blame me for the fact that the Orchestra had changed its name from the Minneapolis Symphony, which all the players seemed to prefer, to the wider-scoped MO.

Needless to say, I was, at that time blissfully naive. I had no real understanding of what I was involved with. It was just as well…

During the 2012 lockout of the MO players, the concept of Minnegeddon appeared to me again. This time, it took an interesting turn, for by now, the player I call “Monostatos” had insinuated themself into my family and then left, leaving upheaval everywhere. My days of having been enticed to practice on the stage at Orchestra Hall were over. But there was still this tangential connection. One of my family members had a connection to the MO through their work. In fact, at one point I wrote a letter to Mr. Vanska, describing my concerns. I asked this family member to help make sure this letter went directly to him. But they refused to lift a finger to help me, claiming, “I don’t want you to use my contacts.” Did the lockout of the MO players actually begin with the MO, in effect, locking me out? I began to wonder…

Then there was the Monday evening in October 2012 when hurricane Sandy abruptly changed course and headed for not only New York City, but my home town of Fairfield, Connecticut. I was in the indoor arena, taking a dressage lesson. I had climbed off of my horse, Miles, and was standing next to him, tightening his girth. I looked at my instructor, and said to her, “that’s odd. The only horse I was allowed to ride with any regularity when I was a child was named ‘Sandy’. Sandy was an albino Arab given to family friends who had a farm in Shelton, CT. He had blue eyes and pink skin. A pale horse indeed…

Was there some sort of connection between the weather and what I called ‘Minnegeddon’, I began to wonder? I had visited NYC and Connecticut recently for reunions. Odd. I recalled that I had also spent some time in San Francisco in 2011, near Nihonmachi, where I had once lived, and a few weeks later there was an earthquake that may have moved Japan 8 feet.

It was about that time that I began to ask a lot of questions. No, I can’t say I have any answers. But I thought I would share some of them with you. I believe there is a gift of the Holy Spirit in Mozart’s music, and also in die zauberflote. When Wolf was alive, it was also connected to him. I think there was a vortex of some sort around him. People could sense it. This caused the continual controversy around him. I think he was probably murdered in order to stop this energy from affecting those around him. What if this gift is also present in his music? What if, every time it is played, no matter by whom, that gift is shared? His music is played all around the world. What if it is affecting changes wherever it is played? What if it is even having an effect on the weather?

I think you get my drift. As an odd footnote, let me mention two more puzzling coincidences. The 2005 Hurricane Katrina devastated the New Orleans area. This area is significant to me because of its connection to the Garrison investigation and the assassination of JFK, which I also research. In fact, the evening before Katrina hit, my husband Donner and I were entertaining a venerable Warren Commission proponent in the research community, Prof. Ken Rahn. We had, in fact, earlier spent the day at the Minnesota State Fair, debating JFK issues. We had to agree-to-disagree on just about everything. It dawned on me that the nickname given to my daughter by her Dad was “Katrina, Katrina, ballerina.” Just this fall Hurricane Matthew devastated North Carolina. Oddly, a couple of weeks earlier I spent an afternoon at a Tomorrow’s World presentation with Rod McNair. They are based in Charlotte, NC. And oh, perhaps you can guess the name of my son-in-law?:-)

I know. Just odd coincidences. Nevertheless, perhaps all of us who are Believers can take a moment to humble ourselves before our Creator and ask for His guidance and wisdom for the times that may lie ahead…

*M4B=Mozart For Believers

P.S. Another odd coincidence — not long after I published this post a 7.4 earthquake hit in the same area of Japan as the one in 2011: http://www.reuters.com/article/us-japan-quake-idUSKBN13G2DC

Minnegeddon — New York City and the “Babylon” of Revelation 18 M4B*

 

Though born in Chicago, I grew up in Fairfield Connecticut, not far from New York City.  My parents were transplants from South Dakota, so, of course, everything about NYC was exciting to them.  Once we had settled in from the transfer from the Midwest (my father was a metallurgical engineer) we started taking day trips to New York.  One of my fondest memories is of going out to the Statue of Liberty on a foggy morning, watching the astoundingly beautiful monument emerge from the fog as we drew close to it, the golden flame in contrast to the gray drizzle. As I grew older, of course, I wanted to live there.  Who wouldn’t?  Fairfield was tiny, the area had nothing but a charming “seashore” (the Long Island Sound) strewn with seaweed and mussels.  I also sensed that New York City had a darkness, a mystery of sorts, that intrigued and puzzled me.

In early September 2001 I was giving flute lessons at a school for home-schooled students one day a week.  It was across the river from us, in the St. Paul, MN area.  As the school year had just started, there were new instructors.  One of them had a fairly simple last name, but I was unable to remember it correctly.  For some odd reason, I kept calling her Ms. “Huffman”.  I was puzzled, to say the least. Usually, I either remembered a person’s name exactly and forever, or not at all.  This was a bit different.

Every evening I read a chapter of the Bible before bed.  Sometimes there seems to be an inclination to focus on one chapter.  At that time, it was Revelation 18.  As I read through the terrifying prophecy of a city that would be sunk beneath the sea I wondered what it would feel like to see people covered in ashes, and asked myself what sort of disaster would take place in ‘just one hour’.  I tried to imagine how those with ships would stand far off and look at the smoke of this city’s burning.

On September 11 2001 I was sipping coffee, watching CNN, preparing for the day, when the news came in of a plane hitting one of the World Tower buildings.  It must have been a small plane, off its course, I remember thinking.  I don’t recall if anything to that effect was said by a newscaster. Then they showed footage of a gaping hole with smoke pouring out one side of the building.  I recalled for a moment something I had read about their construction long ago, when they were built.  The Twin Towers had ‘load-bearing walls’. One of those had been severely breached.  Below, the first responders seemed stunned and somehow terrified.  Although everyone was hoping for the best, the portents were there.

As news of the Pentagon hit came on the air I decided to still leave (I do not know why) for a dermatologist appointment not far away — it the city of Chanhassen, which is home, ironically, to a large golden pyramid-shaped temple connected to a group called Eckankar.  That temple had always given me an eery feeling; even more so that day.  When I went inside the doctor’s waiting room there was total silence — no TV, no radio.  I felt that I was in a time warp; but at least I was able to take a deep breath for a few moments.  After the routine appointment I went out to my car and turned on the radio and started up the car for the drive back home.  Stations were jumbled on top of each other.  The news seemed almost incomprehensible — both WTC towers had fallen, and a fourth plane had crashed into a field in Pennsylvania; ironically, not far from where I had once gone to school. I was unable to process all the new information, and began to become lightheaded.  I was on side roads by this time and drove carefully, ready to pull over if necessary.

When I returned home, of course, my husband confirmed my worst fears, and the news channels carried nothing else but this disaster.  Our borders had been breached for the first time since Pearl Harbor by, we were quickly told, a group of fanatics.  Two of them had trained at a place called “Huffman Aviation” in Florida.  When I heard that, I began to shake. I went back to Revelation 18.  The entire area near the WTC towers was covered in dust, and everyone looked like mummies.  The cameras panned on lower Manhattan from CNN in New Jersey, showing at a distance the smoke of its burning.   Every one of us watched, helplessly.  And for some reason I even now do not understand, I began to praise Gd — not for the attacks, but for preparing me to see that no matter what happened, His hand was also there in the darkness.  I think He held the buildings up as long as possible to get as many people as possible out.  I wondered if this tragedy would bring the city of New York to its knees in true repentance.

That was not to be — instead, they have rebuilt.

So could 9/11 have been a heads-up?  How about, also, Hurricane Sandy, which actually changed direction and headed directly toward New York City, creating terrible calamity?  Over 300 students at Fairfield University became homeless as a result of its assault on just that small section of the shoreline of the Long Island Sound.

New York City still stands.  But for how long?  Will it become true in reality at some point that “the sound of …flutists…shall not be heard in you anymore?”  Rev. 18:22(a)

*M4B=Mozart For Believers

 

 

 

 

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