There are two hundred and twenty three posts on this private website as I type these words tonight on the 7th anniversary of leaving Las Vegas after the weekend in Aria where I met him. 2/23 is the date that my Granny entered Heaven and it’s also the date where I stood at the rocks in Malibu gazing at the star alignments on the anniversary and at the exact time of her crossing over. This means nothing to a reader. But to me these alignments are pieces to a puzzle I’ve been trying to piece together now for over a decade.

I live inside of a mystery – caught between two worlds in a search for truth that I don’t have the power to uncover. Only what God chooses to reveal to me am I able to then see. And all I can truly do anymore is pray; not that I’d have it any other way. The thing about the lost book that I can’t seem to forget is the intention of the author to see something spectacular in the way it would all end. I know this because I’m her. My desire was for the character of Skyla to experience an element of surprise that went against everything she’d ever been taught by this world about love and about second chances.

The flesh is quite gifted at teaching us all what to expect from this life. But the human mind learns its logic from the programs of fear. The spirit on the other hand operates by faith and faith alone. I would know this quite well considering I watched my life fall apart piece by piece and still walked towards every dream (the literal kind), every sign and every message I perceived to be given by God.

I’d love to write here the happy ending of such actions. I’d love to tell people the good news of what life looks like for a broken heart that chooses to keep chasing love and believing in miracles. Unfortunately, I’m bound by an oath to tell the truth and tonight the truth exists in a reroute of sorts. I’m living in an apartment west of Austin Texas with no idea what my tomorrow could possibly bring. I work a job that I was led to apply for back in 2023 after a series of these strange dreams presented me with airplanes and mysteries I would find in flight. The mystery today looks much like a jumbled mess. There are far too many strange things to speak of and I can’t make sense of it to put it in a chronological order even if I tried. My best effort is here however in the hidden writings that I’ve collected along the journey.

It feels like I’ve gone backward in time; as if none of it even happened at all. To travel the world and taste something beyond this temporal world is extraordinary. And yet, I carry back with me to Texas nothing to so show it for any of it other than a broken heart.

I just received a message on my phone that we’re under a flash flood warning throughout the night. It’s already 2:30 and my curious side of wonder assumes I likely began this writing at or around 2:23 a.m. That’s just how my life is now – no coincidences in anything. I wish I knew what it meant – the 2.2.3. When I speak it outloud to myself I see Heaven’s gates opening to welcome her there and the voice of God saying to her, “Good job my faithful servant.” I long to hear those same words when my time here is up.

Obedience is my calling today. I walked in faith after a tear-filled drive to the LAX airport – screaming out to God, “Please tell me what to do.” Moments later a pop up alert on my phone flashed a memory captured back in 2018 of the Capital of Texas building in Austin, Texas that I’ve never actually visited. Truth be told I have no idea how it got on my phone 8 years ago. Moments later once I was aboard the aircraft a man walked up and asked him to help him with his seat assignment. I requested his name to check his ticket in the system and felt shockwaves through my body as he answered me, “Emmanuel Austin.” Emmanuel means God with us. And Austin is the place that was in question on that day after my daughter had recently requested I move there with her so that she could pursue her dreams in music. Then later that night I received a text from a guy asking if I’d switch a shift with him at work. He sent a friend request to me through the system and I again felt the shockwaves of wonder throughout my being as I read the name outloud to myself, “Austyn Austin.”

I think God speaks in 3’s when He is confirming a thing after I’ve prayed and requested help. I’d do well to keep that in mind and not follow every sign and synchronicity I see.

So here I am in Austin. I have no idea why – not yet. All things that have transpired in the physical would indicate that the entire prophecy… – Actually, let me correct myself on that word. I can’t call it a prophecy because I don’t know if it was. It may have been a seed planted in my mind from the evil side of things to distract me and confuse me. It’s just a book after all – a fiction novel that I wrote. I have no evidence that it was from God or divine in any way. As I was saying, I have no indication that the book of Skyla had any meaning at all. It would appear in the physical world as I write this today to be a hoax to believe now that it was significant to my earthly life.

The apartment I just moved into and had never laid eyes on before signing the lease is positioned directly across the street to a business called Robinson’s Jewelers. Up from that is a street sign that says Aria Drive and then the next intersection is called Dave Rd. Beyond that is Stewart Street and then the hills of gorgeous views. I hope to get my dog here to visit soon and was thrilled to also see that the Violet Crown Vet clinic is just across the way in the same parking lot as the jewelers. It’s truly a beautiful place. I do hope to learn soon why God guided me here.

My voice of flesh says, “You foolish naive woman look what you did to your life over the last three and a half years on this job that is leading you to nowhere. You lost your career, your friends and have nothing to show for your wild adventure into what you thought would lead you to your promised land.” But my voice of spirit says, “God is not done writing your story. Don’t lose hope that he’s working all things for your good.”

Years ago I shared a parable with the girls in my Bible Study group we held at our home on Thursdays of what I thought it means to trust God. I said to them, “Imagine that you have a stack of clothes you dropped off at the cleaners and you aren’t able to pick them up. So you ask your most loyal friend to do it for you and they say that they will. If it’s a reliable friend you won’t call them repeatedly to remind them or worry they might forget and let you down. You also don’t rush through your schedule to try to find a way to go do it yourself because you’ve already handed that task to someone else to complete. You just go about your day without worrying and take the item off of your checklist because you trust that your friend has done it.” I followed the discussion by presenting them with my “Sandbox of Surrender” prayer box that I made out of wood. It’s much like a piggy bank. There was a slit to deposit written prayers into but no opening to get them back out. So once you gave your prayer/letter to God, you couldn’t take it back. You had surrendered that thing over.

I’d be wise to find that prayer box and start writing letters to God again. I had much less worry on my heart when I practiced prayer and surrender daily and I witnessed many miracles in those days on the subjects I’d asked God to help me with.

Well I guess I should get to bed now as it’s after 3. Maybe tomorrow I’ll find that sandbox and can start documenting the things I give to God. I’m confident that would help build my faith again and likely would rid me of a lot of the anxiety I’ve been carrying.

3:05 June 15th. The song in my thoughts is This used to be my playground by Madonna.