This is my final communication. When you sicced your goons on me that was the ultimate betrayal. Like being hit by an abusive spouse. I have now left the Anglican Church, and I do not want your blessing for the future. I can forgive you, but I will never forgive your act of betrayal,. Goodbye.
This is what God told me last night:
"You are in a new place with me. Now, leave the past behind. carry with you only the blessings. Those who have harmed you, you must leave them with me. As you have said, I will judge between you. Now come and move forward into the sunlight of my love for a new day is dawning for you.
I'm done. I have no idea how the future is going to look. So much is at play right now with this pandemic, and everyone's lives are being changed, not just me.
I think that now I have a better understanding of what I was being prepared for while in Colombia. I will provide you here with a selection from my blog post, Colombia 7, from February, very much an example of the state of magic realism I was living in at the time. I believe now that God was taking me through this experience in order to prepare me for leaving the Anglican Church. The funeral that was taking place in the church represents the state of death that is in the church, and that I am being called to leave death for life. In the plaza there were the two pigeons making love. Again a very powerful symbol of life and fecundity, that this would be happening for me not inside but outside of the church. And the man playing the recorder was like a symbol of Jesus, showing me the real life and the real creative action and beauty I am being called to, away from the church, as a creative result of the pigeons mating, so to speak. And that when he hugged me, it was a blessing for me to carry on in my next steps into life.
I eventually found my way to the central plaza. The church was open so I went in. There was a ceremony taking place near the front with people gathered round something with the priest. As I drew closer I saw that it was a funeral gathering, so I left out of respect, and went to sit on a bench in the plaza.
(right now, Gentle Reader we will pause for an annoyance break as one of the many annoying mobile commercial messages drives its way down the road and out of earshot.
This is a frequent public annoyance that appears to be quite tolerated in Latin American countries)
It's gone now and things are quiet again, or as quiet as they get around here, we are in Colombia, you know.
So, as I was saying, I was seated on a bench just across from the church, and there was another fellow on a bench with a friend, and he was playing a recorder. He played very well and was dancing around in the square while playing. just as the funeral procession was making its way towards the door of the church. Just then, two of the pigeons in the square were copulating. It was a very surreal kind of setting, the funeral procession exiting the church to load the coffin in the hearse waiting outside. A man playing the recorder while giddily dancing around, and two pigeons mating. Another (presumably male) pigeon tried his luck, but she had already had her fill and wasn't about to put out again. The coffin, containing the earthly remains of some random beloved dead Colombian, was loaded like cargo into the hearse which drove away so quickly that no one would have known it had ever been parked there. The flautist with the recorder paused as a few random strangers applauded his performance and we ended up having a conversation. His name is Alejandro. He insisted that I pause so he could play me a couple more of his compositions, one of which is titled "El Policía es la Mierda", or, The Police Are Shit." But the music was far lovelier than it's sardonic title and one series of notes seemed to be saying "No te preocupes, no te preocupes, no te preocupes..." which means, do not worry, do not worry, do not worry... He was a very warm, charismatic and kind sort of man, and gave me a big hug before I left, to return to my home in Colombia.
(right now, Gentle Reader we will pause for an annoyance break as one of the many annoying mobile commercial messages drives its way down the road and out of earshot.
This is a frequent public annoyance that appears to be quite tolerated in Latin American countries)
It's gone now and things are quiet again, or as quiet as they get around here, we are in Colombia, you know.
So, as I was saying, I was seated on a bench just across from the church, and there was another fellow on a bench with a friend, and he was playing a recorder. He played very well and was dancing around in the square while playing. just as the funeral procession was making its way towards the door of the church. Just then, two of the pigeons in the square were copulating. It was a very surreal kind of setting, the funeral procession exiting the church to load the coffin in the hearse waiting outside. A man playing the recorder while giddily dancing around, and two pigeons mating. Another (presumably male) pigeon tried his luck, but she had already had her fill and wasn't about to put out again. The coffin, containing the earthly remains of some random beloved dead Colombian, was loaded like cargo into the hearse which drove away so quickly that no one would have known it had ever been parked there. The flautist with the recorder paused as a few random strangers applauded his performance and we ended up having a conversation. His name is Alejandro. He insisted that I pause so he could play me a couple more of his compositions, one of which is titled "El Policía es la Mierda", or, The Police Are Shit." But the music was far lovelier than it's sardonic title and one series of notes seemed to be saying "No te preocupes, no te preocupes, no te preocupes..." which means, do not worry, do not worry, do not worry... He was a very warm, charismatic and kind sort of man, and gave me a big hug before I left, to return to my home in Colombia.
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