A Crown of Blood Red and Purple Roses


“Hail! Queen of the Most Holy Rosary, my Mother Mary, hail! At your feet I humbly pray and offer you a crown of blood-red roses, in remembrance of the passion of your divine Son. Each ten bound together, recalling to you a sorrowful mystery, with my petition for a particular grace.

Hail! Queen of the Most Holy Rosary, my Mother Mary, hail! At your feet I humbly pray and offer you a crown of royal purple roses, to remind you of your glories. Each ten bound together, recalling to you a glorious mystery, with my petition for a particular grace.”

These prayers begin the 54-Day Novena, well-known in the Catholic community. It is said to obtain a special favor from our Mother Mary. You pray 27 days of intention and then 27 days of thanksgiving for Mary’s grace in fulfilling your request. The thanksgiving prayers should be said even if your request is not granted because our Mother Mary is always working in our best interests on our behalf. I decided to start this novena this past Monday. To be honest, I feel I should already be saying the prayers of thanksgiving. Since the time the quarantine began, the Lord has provided several miracles in my life. The Holy Spirit has moved in ways I never imagined. I still am not sure exactly what their purpose is, but I have complete faith that the fulfillment of that purpose will be wonderful.

Over the last month, I moved from Connecticut to South Carolina. I was surprised the Lord called me to move so quickly since He led me to move to Connecticut just 4 months ago. This must be what happens when you say “yes” to the Lord. My life is no longer my own; I now should be in South Carolina. Looking back on my journey there, it has been unpredictable but also exciting. I have moved over 5 times in less than 3 years. I never thought I would move so often; I believed I would live in my hometown in Colorado forever. I also felt I would hate a life that required moving from one place to another. The miracle is that what I thought I would hate the most has brought me the most joy. Up till now, I have lived in fear of change, but instead, I embrace it.

In thanksgiving for all the blessings the Lord has given me even amidst all the uncertainty in this world, I decided to dye my hair again. I dyed it blue when I moved to New Jersey to celebrate the new changes the Lord granted to me then. The color blue was a symbol and a reminder of the love and care of Mother Mary. I’m sure it may seem odd to some that I would dye my hair as a sign of thanksgiving to Jesus, but I believe that as children of God, we all long to find creative ways to express our devotion to Him. The act of dyeing my hair is an outward sign of the love and trust I have in Jesus Christ. This time I chose red and purple for the colors to reflect the prayers of this 54-Day Novena. I pray it will be seen as my offering of deep red and royal purple roses to Mary and her son Jesus Christ. I have already seen how the Lord can use my hair to allow me to interact with and enter into His family. It has sparked conversation, and the conversations have created joy for both myself and others. I can feel the Holy Spirit working to inspire these conversations because I am an introvert and do not normally initiate verbal exchanges with people I don’t know.

Regardless of what this recent change means or what plans the Lord has in store for me, I am assured that a true adventure lies ahead. I owe everything to Him and will never stop offering everything I have in return to Him with thanksgiving.

Heartburn

This Sunday we celebrate the birthday of the Church–Pentecost. I am amazed I look forward to this feast day so much; sometimes it seems even harder to wait for Pentecost than for Easter. I long for the baptism of the Holy Spirit just as most Christians long for the resurrection of Jesus Christ after a long Lent.This particular time of waiting was especially significant this year. We made the journey through the octave of Easter while in quarantine, which made our experience similar to that of the first disciples. When the Holy Spirit descended on the apostles, they were all hiding in the upper room, filled with fear. Doesn’t this sound familiar? My apartment is on the third floor of a grand old Victorian house and sits at the top of the highest hill in town–truly an “upper” room! But regardless of where people were quarantined, everyone shared a common emotion, the crippling feeling of fear. The apostles, too, were filled with fear and they had just received the promises of Christ in person. Our hearts have been filled with fear lately, although we remain devoted to the Lord and His promise that He has conquered the grave. In light of the current state of this world, the Catholic Church calls us to experience a personal Pentecost.

I strove to achieve this personal Pentecost; I was in dire need of spiritual renewal. During the final weeks leading up to Pentecost, I was enduring a growing sense of spiritual isolation, made worse by the knowledge that I was bringing it on myself. I let my daily devotions take a back seat just by being lazy. I missed seeing the face of Jesus. On the feast of the Ascension, I knew my faith needed reigniting, so I decided to pray a Holy Spirit novena. Through the nine days before Pentecost, some key events happened to me. First, I began to experience serious heartburn. Physical pain completely prevents me from focusing my devotion on the Lord. The fire inside my body was excruciating and nothing could put out the flames. As I walked up to the church on the vigil of Pentecost, my insides felt as though they were going to combust. Yet, sitting quietly in the pew, the Holy Spirit came over me, or perhaps I should say from within me. The fact that my acid reflux was causing my heart to burn in a sense was not lost on me. Suddenly, instead of seeing this heartburn as a curse, I saw in it a gift. Heartburn is truly painful, but it brought me closer to Christ because I could feel the Holy Spirit and was once again in communion with the Holy Trinity, which I had been missing throughout my spiritual isolation. As an added blessing, when I received the Holy Eucharist, the presence of Jesus Christ entered into my soul and body and took away the pain from the acid reflux.

I had a vision of the Holy Spirit coming into my heart in the form of a dove and starting to flap His wings. The flames in my heart were not extinguished, but dispersed. When the first disciples received the Holy Spirit, they were able to depart from the upper room, traveling the world sharing the good news that we have all been saved by the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. In this time of personal Pentecost, we are once more called by Christ to go out and share His words. We need the Holy Spirit to fulfill this mission; He is the one who can extinguish our fear and ignite our fire.

One prevalent theme emphasized this year was thinking of the Holy Spirit as a person and not as “it.” I had fallen victim to this perception, viewing the Holy Spirit as more of a presence than an actual person like God the Father or Jesus Christ, His Son. The bishop of my archdiocese asked if I ever pray to the Holy Spirit. I was surprised that I didn’t. I prayed to the Father and the Son and usually allowed the Holy Spirit to move within me, but I never really prayed to Him. I have faith that miracles will come from this Pentecost. We can all attain a new relationship, a personal and intimate one, with the third person of the Trinity.

Silence

After eight long weeks, I was finally able to re-enter a church for Sunday Mass. The restrictions imposed by the pandemic that has plagued our country have started to lift. One of the biggest restrictions had been that people could not attend Mass, not in person at least. Thanks to modern technology, most churches had the ability to livestream Sunday Masses and other prayer services, like the Rosary, Stations of the Cross, etc., to their parishioners. This was a true blessing, but watching an online Mass could not replace the deep spiritual experience of attending an actual Mass with fellow believers. I have been unable to receive Jesus Christ through the sacrament of communion for over two months.

That being said, I should have rushed the doors of the church in order to receive communion and celebrate Holy Mass once again. At the beginning of this pandemic, I began to see the devastating effects it was having on the Church and started to envision what it would be like when we were finally allowed to attend Mass in an actual physical church. I pictured people flooding into church filled with joy and thanksgiving; people reuniting with each other and receiving the essential healing they all so desperately craved during this time of isolation and deprivation. Unfortunately, this vision was not the reality I encountered when re-entering the church yesterday.

First of all, I did not have the feeling of excitement I expected. I didn’t wake up in the morning filled with anticipation knowing I was going to receive Christ in the Holy Eucharist once more. Instead, I found myself making excuses as to why I should not go to Mass. I had too many obligations that day, and if I were to go, I would probably be turned away because the church had reached its limited capacity of 25% full. I feared I would be rejected by the church. Of course, this fear was illogical, but my mind still dwelled on it. I overcame all these doubts and hesitations and set off for church. When I arrived, the parking lot was almost empty and I had expected it to be packed with cars. I immediately wondered if I had the wrong time. Had Mass been cancelled at the last minute? The Holy Spirit quelled my doubts, and I got out of the car and went to the church.

In church I had to face the difficult truth that the state of this pandemic was still alive and well. We may have been granted permission to attend church, but people are choosing to remain at home and watch Mass virtually. The fear of catching the coronavirus is prevalent in our lives and though we can celebrate communally again, we are unable to celebrate as a complete community. Social distancing was blatantly evident by the blue tape on the floor indicating where we were to stand and almost everyone’s face was hidden behind a mask. I was so focused on maintaining social distance while walking up to receive communion that I almost missed my chance to fully encounter Christ in the sacrament of the Eucharist. My mind was engulfed by fear–the simple fear that I would make a wrong move and compromise the health of my fellow parishioners.

Amid all this trepidation and doubt, the joy of the Lord would not be denied, and the gift of joy He gave me will sustain me until the threat of the coronavirus has been totally extinguished. During Mass, a deep silence rested over the church, and within this silence, I entered the Lord’s presence. It was the first time the ceremony did not revolve around the homily or the dialogue I engaged in through prayer. In holy silence, the Lord is most present. He did not have a grand message for us all; He wanted us to be with Him in His home again. It seemed like a reunion with loved ones you haven’t seen in a long time. We first embrace each other without words; we know they will come later; it is more important to be with the other person and take in his or her entire being. I believe this was my experience in church. I may not have been able to physically embrace my brothers and sisters in Christ, but I was embraced by Christ. Before and after receiving communion, my body felt waves of goosebumps or “Godbumps” which is the better term. Every time I receive these “Godbumps” I know the Lord is near. The Lord was very near in that church yesterday, and He did not need to reveal His presence through grand and elaborate gestures, but rather in His deep and abiding silence.

Celebration of Life

My grandfather died this week. I have experienced the loss of several loved ones throughout my life; I should be able to accept death. The truth is that every loss is different because each person was different and played a different role in my life. What never changes is the immediate transition into grief the moment I hear the news that my loved one has left this world. I have always struggled with the concept of grief, mainly because the grief I feel is more for me than for my loved one, which makes me seem selfish. I am truly blessed to have faith in the Lord that provides me with the peace of knowing he or she is in heaven with our heavenly Father. From that perspective, grief has no place in my emotions; my loved ones are at peace and their sufferings and pain have been taken away forever.

I grieve because I am still in my earthly body without the love of the person I lost to help me deal with worldly trials. I grieve because I mourn the loss of a companion I had grown up believing would never leave me. I remember being a child surrounded by family. This family was the cornerstone of my life, and I could not imagine a world without it. As a child I did not understand the concept of death. Somehow I never outgrew this misperception, and when I began to experience the deaths of my family members and other loved ones, the stability of my life was shattered. The hardest image I find myself needing to alter is that of my wedding. It started in a church filled to bursting with family, and with each loss, I need to change the vision of my wedding day and the church becomes less full with more empty spaces. My grandfather was the hardest person to remove from that image. I believed he would be around to see me married and to have his great-grandchildren.

At one time in my life I would be angry with the Lord each time my family diminished. I did not understand how He could take away the people who made my life what it was. The truth is that I cannot build my life on those of others. The only person I can rely on to always be a part of it is Jesus Christ. Due to the COVid-19 pandemic, my family was not able to be with my grandfather when he died. This might sound tragic, but the only person who needed to be with him was there. I have complete faith that Jesus was at my grandfather’s bedside when he died, ushering him into heaven. In fact, I believe his hospital room was packed with a host of angels, saints and other family members ready to accompany my grandfather on his journey to his new home in heaven.
Every time I face death again I do feel the fear of being alone, but then a soft voice whispers, “I am here.” We are all human and we will all die, which means we cannot count on each other always being around us, at least, not physically. The one person we can count on is the Lord. I am thankful for this because He is the only being worthy of complete trust, and I know He is the only one I need.

Keeping this in mind, I no longer grieve for my departed loved ones, but rather celebrate their lives. My grandfather’s life was definitely worth celebrating. The day he died, my brain raced through all the beautiful memories I shared with him. They are so precious and even though I wept as I remembered them, my tears were from joy because the memories are such treasures. My grandfather’s life was a gift from God, which I will carry the rest of my life. My grandfather will indeed be with me the rest of my life. He lives on in my heart, and the hearts of the many people he touched.

Dear Grandpa

The Lord called you home yesterday. I find myself smiling as I think of the happy reunion you will have with our heavenly Father. Your journey to eternal rest was long and very difficult at times; I rejoice that you can finally find peace in the Father’s everlasting arms. I can only imagine the conversations you two will have–all about tennis and the weather.

There are many words I wish I had shared with you before you left this earth. For most of my life, I often saw you as my everything. I felt completely protected and secure with you from the time I was a tiny baby. At our first meeting when I was about 6 months old, I found comfort in your arms, and from that moment on you played a key part in shaping my world. I owe much of my creative spirit to you. You took me on wonderful adventures to magical parks where you would place me in a swing set and push me high enough that I could touch the sky. You always dressed up like Santa Claus at Christmas and showed that me that Santa Claus was real because you emulated his spirit so well. You found wonder in the simplest elements of nature which allowed me to see the Lord.

You were a respected and successful lawyer and judge, but you never let your position define you. Work, money, esteem were never that important. Love always came first. I know what love is not because of the words you spoke but by every action you took in life. You were the perfect gentleman to everyone you met, putting everyone else before yourself and expecting nothing in return.

I owe my life to you and your love. For this reason, I can let you go now and assure you I will be okay without your physical presence. During so much of my life, I looked to you for guidance, and it was that guidance that brought me to my faith in the Lord. Your faith was phenomenal! It breaks my heart that I was not with you in your final hours, but I know my presence was not necessary because Jesus Christ was with you, the only Presence you needed to be there.

I spent most of my life worrying about what I would do without you in it. Now I am finally facing that reality, but fortunately, I learned from you to rely on the Lord. Thank you, Grandpa, for the memories, the peace, and most of all the love with which you filled my life. You will never leave me because I hold you forever in my heart.

Praying Deeper

It is officially May, and I have been in a state of isolation for over a month due to the pandemic. In the past week, I have undergone several mental struggles. I’ve become frustrated with my lack of motivation. I have all the time in the world, but cannot get anything done. Each passing day I seem to waste more time. A little voice in my head keeps saying, “Make the most of this time; you’ll miss it when you don’t have it.” My mind actively sought to accomplish everything I “should” be doing. I should be volunteering, walking outside, reading more books, even writing a book! These thoughts left me with more anxiety–my to-do list was increasing, but I was unable to complete anything on the list. The anxiety came from my belief that I was letting the Lord down. He gave me this gift of time, a time I truly wanted to give back to Him and devote to Him, but I was squandering it by twiddling my fingers and wandering aimlessly from one random thought to another.

I was reaching my limit; my frustrations were mounting uncontrollably, when I tuned into a talk led by a Franciscan friar. He echoed many of the same feelings I experienced, saying this was a time to draw closer to God; however, this friar had a different perspective of what this call really meant. I was looking for ways to draw closer to God through man made means: seminars, books, live-streamed Masses, and specific prayers. The friar’s way of drawing closer to God was much simpler–it was to go deeper into prayer. So many times I have focused on the specific prayers I should say daily–like the Rosary and the Chaplet of Divine Mercy. These prayers are wonderful, but I become so fixated on saying them that I forget to actually allow for transformation to take place. The friar pointed out that there is a deeper form of prayer we can achieve. He illustrated this idea of our hearts on top of a mountain, and on this mountain, we can weather the storms around us. This is where we can encounter Jesus Christ. It is so easy to let our emotions and thoughts define who we are, but we are deeper than that definition. The chaos created by our emotions and thoughts causes the storms surrounding us. By going further into prayer, we can overcome these storms and find ourselves on top of the mountain where we can be with Christ and only Christ. Then we can discover what He is truly saying to us.

I eagerly tried this new method of prayer because I wouldn’t feel limited by everything I was “supposed” to do or say, all I really had to do was draw closer to the Lord. It worked! For five minutes, I felt as though I had accomplished more than in the past month of quarantine. Within those five minutes, I did not try to pray for anything. I had no pre-arranged agendas; I simply allowed myself to be with Christ. I was finally at peace with this unique time in my life. God is asking me for a deeper prayer life with Him, but this does not require any heroic effort–all I need to do is to be with Him.

Work of Faith

This past week focused my attention on several new realities it’s difficult for me to admit. When my company first temporarily shut down, the concept of being unemployed seemed somewhat appealing. I could get paid for staying home and “relaxing.” What could be better? Unfortunately, the reality was not “relaxing” at all! Each passing day, my mind returns to a conversation I had with my father when I first sought steady employment. He told me work would bring worth to my life. At the time, I remember rolling my eyes and thinking he was crazy. I couldn’t imagine ever wanting to work and appreciating the value of the work I did. Yet now I wake up every day wishing for work. While talking to friends who complain about their heavier work load, I am envious of them. During these times, I have a growing desire to work. I want the struggles, the annoyances, the irritants–all elements I used to complain about in my job. As difficult as my tasks at work used to be, they gave me a purpose. Coming home at the end of the day, I had a reason for my exhaustion because I had put in a good day’s work. Now I am discovering how plagued I am by anxiety. My biggest concerns are not even crucial issues–they are minor worries about preparing dinner or calling a friend at an appropriate time or returning a text.

Among all these trials, the Lord keeps taking the opportunity to teach me. Whenever I am confronted by a new concern about work or another stimulus to my anxiety, I am learning to seek Him out. There is absolutely nothing more important that should be placed as a higher priority. If I go to Jesus first, I receive His promise that He will take care of everything.

At this time when I really do not have that much to do, my gaze must remain fixed on the Lord. With each moment of every day, what can I give back to Him? This may be the best time to evangelize. There are so many people suffering and falling into despair, losing sight of the Lord. In the moments when people approach me with concern, instead of admitting to my fears and anxieties, I can turn the conversation around. The truth is that amid all this chaos, I have found peace and even joy. When I can overcome the external voices making me afraid of my future, I can hear the Lord’s soft and calming voice. He has not abandoned me nor has He abandoned this world. He is actually more present than ever and the best use of my time at this moment is to profess this to others. It may appear that I am in a difficult spot: I am not working, I have no guaranteed income and I am living on my own. The truth is I have my faith and it has set me free. I am not on my own; I am living in my Father’s house and He is taking care of me. There is nothing to fear.

Hope

He has Risen, He has Risen indeed. Praise the Lord, Glory and Alleluia.

I do not think I have ever been so starved to speak those words! There were many surprises that greeted me this beautiful Sunday morning–none of which I anticipated or expected. It all started at the stroke of midnight, ushering in the dawn of Easter Sunday. I gave up eating meat for Lent. Honestly, for most of the Lenten season, I really did not feel it was much of a sacrifice; I was perfectly content with fish and meat substitutes, but suddenly as we entered Holy Week, I was overcome with an immense desire for meat. It became so bad that by the time Good Friday arrived, I felt I could not survive without it. I was so weak, and nothing could dispel the need for meat. To make matters worse, I was consumed with guilt. Was I such a weak person that I could not sacrifice indulging in meat for only 48 more hours?

Midnight finally came, and it was officially Easter. I could finally have meat; I had made it through Lent. The feeling of failure still remained because I was following the concept that what we sacrifice in Lent is meant to bring us closer to God, by eliminating the distractions of this life, we could achieve true reliance on the Lord. Yet here I was on Easter Sunday, and all I wanted was meat, completely distracted from Jesus Christ and His triumph over death. When I prepared my meal complete with meat and took my first bite, my mind, heart and soul were cleared, and the weight of Lent was lifted. I was filled with the Holy Spirit, who revealed to me why my insatiable need for meat was not a sign of weakness at all, it was just the opposite. This desire for meat I had felt was not simply human hunger, it was spiritual hunger. The hunger I had for meat was truly the hunger for Jesus Christ. Throughout all of Lent, I have been underestimating the effects I was experiencing by not receiving the Eucharist every Sunday. Lent had become a time of blind faith and trust and easy thanksgiving. I thanked God every day for simple things, but I wasn’t praising Him, and I missed Him in the Eucharist. It was not until Sunday morning that I was finally aware of how much I needed Him. The hunger I had for meat is the hunger I need to have every time I approach Jesus and receive Him through the Holy Eucharist. I praised and thanked God for the gift of the meal He had provided, showing me that He is my Savior and without Him there is no hope.

I know meat is no substitute for the Eucharist, but nevertheless I felt satisfied for the first time since the coronavirus pandemic took away our ability to receive the Lord at Mass. Most importantly, I felt filled with hope. The season of Lent was focused on faith and trust, but not on hope. I concentrated on the suffering of the season and the meaning of that suffering, but I forgot about the joy our faith should give us. Easter morning, the sun rose and so did our Lord. This world is working tirelessly to find the solution to this pandemic, but I had forgotten that this battle has already been won on the cross. This day has come with a promise that our situation will get better; Jesus Christ has conquered death. Alleluia! Alleluia! Alleluia!

Broken

I feel as though I should start dating these blogs the way the captains on starships dated their logs on classic episodes of “Star Trek.”


Star Dates Log — 2004.10
Today marks the 12th day of being in complete quarantine. You can learn so much about yourself when you are alone with only your own thoughts to keep you company. You become aware of all your annoying habits because you start to annoy yourself. You can also figure out the way you would really like to live! One of the biggest surprises I have encountered about myself is that I am naturally a night owl. I have been trying to maintain a routine, and in trying to establish one, have discovered that I am at my best after 9 p.m. It’s been a constant struggle to sleep in the evening and I’ve been extremely tired every morning. Thanks to these days of quarantine, I am able to allow my body to sleep when it wants to rest, and work when it has the best ability to function. Although the state of our country causes a great deal of stress, I can find a routine that works for me, finally complementing my body’s natural rhythm.

This is an unprecedented, difficult time. I wake up every day with fear and uncertainty. With so much unknown, it is easy to give in to despair, and to the belief that things will never get better, but what good can negativity do? In all this suffering, there are great and wonderful blessings. Good Friday honors the passion of Jesus Christ, and His sacrifice for all our sins. Why was His suffering necessary? The truth is that through suffering, unimaginable graces can be granted. It is crucial to remember Christ’s suffering in times like these. When we suffer, we can offer that suffering to the Lord, and ask for His aid through our suffering, just as Christ’s suffering on the cross was offered up for the forgiveness of our sins.

During this period of isolation, I have become aware of how broken a person I am. It is now that Jesus Christ calls to me, He wants me to come to Him in all my brokenness. My prayers have been transformed throughout these days of quarantine because I am giving myself entirely to Jesus.

“Oh my Jesus, I am broken and scared. I am fearful that I will not be able to pay my bills. I am fearful that I may not have a job when this pandemic is over. I have let this fear enter my being, and my positive attitude to diminish. I do not like the person I have become. I do not like the person I am when I speak to my friends and family. In your name, Jesus Christ, I offer up my brokenness and imperfections for the salvation of this world. I humbly ask that my suffering, no matter how small it is, may help and work towards the betterment of this world and that the world can truly be made a better place through this pandemic.
Through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.”

Desperation

Last Sunday, my priest proclaimed in his homily: “Faith is where desperation meets Jesus Christ.”

These words entered my soul and took hold. As this time of unknowing continues, at every new trial I encounter, my heart returns to these words. They will provide the strength toward which I will hopefully gravitate, as the world struggles to gain understanding. Even at this moment when I am writing, I am uncertain of what to write next! I just know I need to write–it is my means of reaching out to people in the world I live in and to receive affirmation that I am not alone. This was true before the COVid-19 pandemic–being an introvert, my ways of connecting with others are often different than the conventional ones.

Today has been one of the most difficult days since the start of this pandemic because I actually do not know what each day will look like as I move forward through it. I have lost control. My job has been temporarily ended–there is simply not enough work for me to do, so I have officially applied for unemployment. When I first made the decision to apply, I felt relieved. The way my employer explained it, unemployment sounded like the best option. If everything turns out the way it should, I will be making more money than I would be if I was working. Unfortunately, when I woke up this morning, the reality sunk in. Unemployment means relying on the government for my well-being. I have heard horror stories about filing for unemployment. Yes, the government promises money to keep me financially secure, but what if my application is not processed correctly? Anxiety creeps into my mind, and outside voices take over. There were a few texts and conversations I should not have accepted or participated in.

During these times society dictates that “we need to focus on the positive.” This is much easier said than done, especially since I am in isolation, and now that I am without work, I feel even more isolated. When I first faced the new reality of unemployment, I also questioned whether or not to attempt leaving CT and to stay with my parents until this “temporary shutdown” ends. There were mixed responses from a number of different people, and of course, my mind fixated on the most negative ones.

At the end of the day (at the end of this day!), I am choosing desperation. All the external voices do not matter–whether they are positive or negative, the voice I need to heed is the Lord’s. If it is His will I go to stay with my parents, I will, but if it is not His will, I am facing an unknown length of time in complete isolation. I will have to learn what it means to be in total communion with the Lord, and to be completely honest, that doesn’t sound too bad. The idea of a journey to reach my parents’ home is scary, but I am reminded of the promise I made to the Lord over a year ago. “Lord, if you tell me to go, I will go.” When He told me to move to New Jersey, I did, and this move led me to salvation. When He told me to move to Connecticut, I did, and it led to divine peace. Now the Lord may be telling me to go to South Carolina. If He is asking me to do this, I will go, and based on His track record, I have faith this will lead to unimaginable wonders. Right now I am in a waiting state; I am waiting on the Lord in desperation.