Dear God,

please stop me from worshipping at the Altar of the Past.

“You’re seeing a bit of the Truth, now, aren’t you?”

Uh huh.

“What else are you seeing?”

I am seeing that I like to worship at The Altar of Trauma too.

“Why is that?”

Because Mom and Dad loved me that way?

“In the past?”

Uh huh.

“Well now, in the forever now, here in my Land, they love you with gentle kisses and hugs. Can you forgive them for their mistakes on Earth? Can you begin to see that letting go and forgiving was the plan all along so mistakes were written into the Plan for Life on Earth, in the first place?”

It’s hard to wrap my head around that. I think my brain cells are dying.

“I hope so. Only your heart, Our Heart, can understand and forgive.”

I don’t think my heart is beating anymore.

“But you talk about My Heart on your website. It’s why your website exists.”

Gee, your right.

“Take your pulse, now.”

Oh, ok….I do have a pulse…my heart is beating.

“Every time you find yourself worshipping at the altar of the past, put your fingers on your wrist and count out the morse code of my Love. Even if the code misses a beat, it doesn’t matter. I’m here in your heart beat until you come home to rest in my Heart Beat. The truth is you never left. You live inside me, inside my Heart Beat but you forgot.”

Wow. Wow. I’m feeling better. I don’t talk with you very often. I like it.

“Put your fingers on your pulse and we’ll talk more often, ok?

Ok. Love you, God.

“I love you too. And remember, everyone loves you too as you love them. And everyone lives in you as you live in them as you all live in me.”

Yeah, everything is all right.