Create a highly detailed, high-resolution image of a cardboard gift box with a colorful ribbon, symbolizing a thoughtful present. The scene should be set in a warm, inviting environment with soft, natural light streaming in from a nearby window, casting gentle shadows. In the background, include a subtle hint of an office setting to suggest the presence of a distinguished figure like President Barack Obama, without depicting him directly. Ensure the focus is sharp on the gift box, capturing textures and details to evoke a sense of anticipation and excitement.

“I see a gift box of carboard. There is a ribbon, and it is strikingly red and wrapped around the gift with a two-loop, simple bow. Simplicity never has been enough.”

(It isn’t President Obama’s controversy, Wiki. He has no control of idiots making too much of everything to suit what? At this point in time I am going to say everyone is supporting criminal anarchy and President Obama was the last life raft of this Nation where Democracy is concerned.)

Barack Obama meets with John F Tefft, August 2014 – Barack Obama tan suit controversy – Wikipedia

“The gift doesn’t have anything inside of it; the box is empty but wrapped up anyway. And it was laid upon a dirty street of New York City. The weight of blindness kept it sitting there for years.

And then the gift awoke and knew its emptiness. It knew it had not been understood, filled, or opened with expectation. So it began to bring forth of the emptiness anyway, and that made it move a little and so it would be hit by the tires of cars and batted about though no one ever ran over it.

Eventually it came to rest in the gutter along the curb, and by that time, it was crushed. Strangely the bow never did get harmed. Just the shell was crushed from all the jumbling around on the street of emergencies, dire necessities, and damaging realities of the Twin Towers collapsing. There it sits, the bow adorning the crushed shell as it shivers in the wet and windy gutters of time.

“There was this woman who was dancing on a solitary skating rink. The waters beneath her feet were frozen for a long while; she skated in great big circles, turning round, and occasionally, whe would crash to the frozen floor.

Then the waters thawed, and she walked upon them. It was a mercy from God to have such faith, and the Master watched her, smiled, and empowered her to skate still though the waters were of a tumbling ocean in which she danced.

Occasionally, the woman would skate to rest in the lap of the Unjust Judge (Psalm 74) who sat there. She would stroke the right arm clasped against the chest. She shared the lamenting. She comprehended the fire of the jealousy of God and wrath of the Lamb; she still does, and it makes her despair for who can comprehend it?

“Then she was exhausted, and so her dance ceased, Jesus took her hand, and they went below. Lying there on the sandy floors of an ocean is a peaceful place, but the emptiness of unheard painful songs and dances haunts the quiet soul of the woman. But Jesus lies there, and they are facing each other. She sees His Eyes, and they are kind. He places His hand upon her shoulder and beckons her to wait now too and trust Him.

But today, as her little obedience draws to an end, the woman got up and danced around Jesus. She walked anyway; she got wet again. There is much to praise Him (GREAT SPIRIT TRINITY) for; the suffering of her kind can still be held up before the Throne even down there in the depths of the Ocean.”

For of a truth, the Master has shown her how emptiness can be simply beautiful. Crushed existence can be appreciated for what it is, but this woman is ruined in that place. She has determined as it is well put in Ecclesiastes: all is madness save the Creator. All is madness, and they chose it too. Knowledge has come full circle, but it doesn’t make any sense at all like it didn’t in the beginning. I AM is the only sense; it is obvious, and they still don’t see it. And she has watched them not see it. She watched, waited, and was loved by God in such a way that she is undone.

This woman who skated for so short a long time realizes even being undone is meaningless without the shape of empty existence God made her, and she realized again how, say, the woman in a hut in Africa trying to survive or the man who cannot get a job so must suffer with the death of his family in famine are worth so very much more than she is or ever will be. There is a guilty, disenchanted confusion with being an American. They who have real pain mean more entirely that she ever did.

But somehow, she was privileged as she skated betimes while living normally how the Father was pleased with her whispering witness. And she fears for she has seen the thunder and the rains come when He pleased as she kept walking.

So in her meaningless place this evening and as the rain falls heavy yet again, when the decision was made to keep praying anyway (Tara: i no longer pray. I light tea lights, invoke, throw spells and write chants, etc)–there stood Jesus. He picked her up in His arms and rose slowly out of the ocean depths and came upon the shores of the Throne Room.

“She is here, My Liege. She is choosing to pray here at the last.” There is silence (Revelation 8:1), Jesus stands waiting, and the woman is laid bare, dripping wet there.

She does not, nor will she ever, stir the Father to ask for zeal for herself. She is too empty , and she fears God evermore. She knows she has seen sin; she knows she has seen so much horrible and despicable railings against this precious and impossible-to-comprehend Three Who is One yet the anger she has witnessed and even experienced herself–even sinning in this thing yet repented–has left her.

There is nothing of it now because of the emptiness of humanity she realizes is there. We deserve it, every last bit of it, but yet Jesus Christ came and took her up with Him for no worthy reason on her part. She realizes she is wanted somehow. And if she is wanted, so are all of them. There is no exclusivity in emptiness.

“She pauses there, lying in the everlasting arms. She recognizes the worth of purity, and how God is pleased with it. And she has been one such. She realizes this prophetic emptiness was placed within her because God made it possible for such a day as this.

And in that place is her greatest responsibility because she knows she can use it if she pleases because she walked in repentance alongside them who led her. She even begged the others to repent with her.

“Those of them who walk circumspectly have a little voice God can hear this way even in their emptiness that is the red, simple bow which is not touched. It is human free will wove in some little vessels that comes out as a small living sacrifice of faith, hope, and love–these three. So she pauses in this little place, and she decides she wants to beg the Father a different way today carefully.”

(Note: Elsewhere on blogs I have admitted to you that I no longer believe in the Bible. This paragraph I have bolded, above, is written in heaven. There is no time there. I believe the Bible there. Yet I also know it has problems across time like so many ancient books, and I know it is equally, simply history. Even the birth, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ is history. I still believe that. As to the different points of view in the four gospels. FFS. Stop. Approximates are best anyway. I don’t know what all the hubub is about and I have no intention of wasting anymore of my limited time–being that I’m about to turn 60–on stupid shit everyone talks about including me.)

“She gets down from the everlasting strong arms of Jesus, walks up the stairs dripping, and reaches the face of the God Father. Jesus holds His hand out and helps her up the steps.

With tears in her empty, inconsequential eyes, she touches that face then draws back. She rests a hand upon that knee, and as a tear slips down her cheek, she implores Him:

It is nothing, truly. Do forget it, please? Even Your unjustness is just. But my little pain is nothing, and I know You did hear me, oh I AM. You honored me with a hearing. You made this gift, empty as it was. You take pleasure in this emptiness somehow, thank you, Jesus.

This wide, deeply small, hidden place does not contain your anger, but your vulnerability instead, Father. I testify to You how there is none of your Anger here somehow. Oh I AM, your tears, your tears, your tears across time…..We were too busy to see your tears. We saw so many facets, but we did not see your tears. It has wholly been a privilege to cry with You 144 allegorical years, and this woman is awakened anew at how You love it when some of us will cry with You forevermore. You love it, so I will stay here if it pleases You?”

(And what I have done the month before I turn 60 is make an upper room comfortable and perfect so I no longer trouble 50 States with Me.)

Much Love,

Cara Ann Beaty-Coffey

PS: this book was a second edition in 2016. I had written it before that along with two others and then revised all three before my publisher went out of business.