THE FRUITS OF MY LABOR: And no one understands this better than an octomom!

     Sometimes, my own stupidity amazes even me.  I'm not the sharpest knife in the drawer, why even the butter knives laugh at me.  I am so amazed at the patience of the Almighty who continually puts up with the idiotic behavior I sometimes exhibit, okay, I usually exhibit.  I complain constantly about my own personal trauma when I know darn well that He has assigned me a job that is so much bigger than myself and my own petty problems.  I had been sleeping the day away, because I became so self-absorbed in my personal trauma, again. That was until I had this horrible nightmare. I woke up from it, knew it was from GOD, but couldn't for the life of me figure out what it was about, but I knew it was from YHVH GOD.

THE NIGHTMARE:

I was pregnant at this late age, I gave birth, but the hospital took the baby from me, not letting me see it, or know if it was a boy or girl, and told me to go home, and when the baby was ready to come home, they would call. I went home, went about taking care of my eight children, and forgot about the baby for weeks. When I called the hospital, they said there was no record of me giving birth, but they would get back to me. Again, months went by, and I remembered the baby, again. It was then that I realized the hospital had stolen my baby for the black market. I knew no court in the land would side with me, because I had forgotten about my baby for months. I couldn't stop crying and had to have one of the kids dial my phone to get their father over here. I called him to come over so we could go to the hospital together, but then the pipes burst in my upstairs master bathroom.

Strange, huh? Well, just doing the dishes, the Holy Spirit said to me to think about it. What have I been neglecting? My writing, my assignment as a writer for the despaired. My ninth baby is my job as a writer. The books are the baby. I can't see the results of the books, because I won't be here to see the fruit of my labor. It is my fondest desire for the LORD to take me out of this world before He takes the words I have written world-wide. The last thing I want is fame or notoriety in this world where everyone pretends to be someone famous. No one pretends to be a dead person, well, unless you're voting democrat. Sorry, couldn't resist.

I'm so stupid most of the time. I haven't quite figured out the pipes bursting, maybe that's the cancer, which will be my Ticket Home, keeping me from getting to the hospital to retrieve the "fruits of my labor."

ADDENDUM: November 12, 2024, I just figured out what the pipes bursting is. Daggone it, it's not cancer, it's this brain aneurysm in my head that I was diagnosed with a few months ago. Makes sense, huh? GOD taking me out quick with one killer headache. Pun intended.