When storms are no mere coincidence…

Lightning Strike Hits George Floyd Mural Causing The Wall To Come Tumbling Down

“A spokesperson for Toledo’s Fire and Rescue Department said a lightning strike destroyed the mural. A witness told authorities they saw lightning hit the exact building, and rescuers confirmed this to be the cause, local media reported, adding that their own weather radar had also registered lightning in the area.” https://www.rt.com/usa/529185-floyd-mural-destroyed-lightning/

Let’s speculate about this for just a moment.

Sounds like the storms we’ve been having for the past two to three weeks on-and-off are not normal.

Storms have always had a significant meaning to me in my life.

When I was three to four years old, I had a little Fisher Price cassette player + microphone. When it was raining, I would go out on the front porch, play the Slumberland cassette, and sing into the microphone. I was of the mind of a child that inclement weather meant God was sad or angry, so I was going to “sing to Him so He wouldn’t be sad anymore”. But it was the first time that I would (later) recall seeing my Guardian Angel; we’d sing together (though doubtless he was much better at it than I was/am, lol).

When I was eleven years old, I was attending public school (though going to a parochial school probably would not have intercepted my curiosity and exploration and experimentation with pagan/occult practices). It was a bad time all around. First, “no child left behind” lumped students into classes based on test scores, so even good students and well-mannered children suffered being grouped with more behaviorally-wayward children if the former struggled with achieving a high score on academic tests, and the quality that instructors put out in general reinforced that. There were exceptions, but many administration, faculty and staff were in it for holding a paycheck as their priority, and tolerated rather than loved us – but like I said, there were exceptions. I remember the quality of the administration was terrible, but it is not at the forefront of my memory in this composition. Ironically, even with all D’s and F’s in my classes, I passed all 5 parts of the 8th Grade Proficiency Test (I did better than all-star students did on that test – miracle of God) and was allowed to graduate without summer school. It was totally whacked. I remember being a very angry “tween” all throughout, though, never feeling safe and protected anywhere (it wasn’t only school, there were – understating – “causes of grief” involving some members of extended family), and had a lack of an outlet. When I got involved in the occult, starting off as mere curiosity, it was the weather that I latched onto, and there were recognizable results (never any human or animal sacrifices, nothing bloody). I loved storms; it was all that I felt I could really easily relate to (relating to other people wasn’t impossible, it just required more effort and energy).

When I was 12, God would intervene through “a side door” to break that in me (didn’t mean the affliction of demonic obsession pushing to call for storms via curse would stay gone indefinitely, it took serious effort to the extent of doing major violence to my own will to break that, but it did conclude). Suffice I did not know God then; that relationship was not really developing consistently and naturally in my early childhood. Anyway, one day, after uttering a curse, there was a storm, and it was one mightier than what the amounts of pent up anger in me could identify with; I prayed what I consider to be the first real “prayer from the heart”. I decided to be frank with God about not knowing if He was real or, if He was, if He listened or not, if He would or would not. I asked Him that if He is real, He would not let anyone get hurt by the storm. I either didn’t think He was mightier than the storm to stop it, or else felt that it would be too presumptuous of me to ask Him to stop the storm after what I did – probably the latter more. I watched it rage about outside through the window, and eventually put my head in my hands and shut my eyes tight, tired of it. The storm did eventually pass, and there was a lot of damage/debris. But I had walked downstairs to the Family room and Dad had turned on the local news. The reporter on the news called it “a miracle that no one was injured by this storm”. And that was that.

Throughout high school and college and after college, I loved listening to and watching storms. Friends liked to watch them too, and like how people like to stargaze, we liked to stormgaze. Once, however, in a period I had become severely disoriented, there was a severe storm raging outside. In the midst of it, I traced a sigil of a particular demon (not going to say which one). It had become the case that the leadership in the Church could never be bothered to care or put out what spiritual protection and pastoral care and support I very desperately needed (and parents had to work hard to make a life and didn’t understand anyway), and so it left a sense of a great divide between myself and my relationship to God/Christ. There were demons (real demons) who inserted themselves into my life and who managed to deceive and tempt and were successful for a time acting as protecting and providing me with that formative attention and insight I wasn’t given from family. (Family supplied me with books, which were sound and good, but are also sometimes really unhelpful when you don’t have that real open communication and heart-to-heart on my own personal operating level; Clergy were not much better, and I reached out to them, but they acted characteristically like they were too busy). I knew they were demons, but in the first major round I became intellectually snared in a heresy we Catholics refer to as Origenism (“universal restoration”), after the Early Church Father named Origen, relative largely to his disciples, and in the second round I slipped by the error of preferring to learn the truth about them from their own witness rather than what I considered hearsay by those who might just be trying to sell me something – the irony, right? Back then, I judged who I would allow into my life based solely on how they treated me directly or how I perceived them treating me. Once I finished the sigil, immediately the storm ended (no lightning, no thunder, no hail, no crazy winds, no rain, nothing); clue-ing me in that it was not a normal storm at all to begin with. (It was repented of.)

There was an instance where it was raining. I was driving to a Church where a group of us would have Rosary procession through the Downtown area, purposed toward the end of human trafficking. I shouted in the car to Jesus that I was coming, whether come Hell or high water. The rain poured, and then ended right once I arrived off the freeway – and there was even a double-rainbow.

However, recently, that love of storms is gone too. Within the past 2-3 weeks, we have had a lot of rain and stormy weather. (1) On one occasion, it was already rainy, but it had lightened up. However, once (it was on a Thursday evening) I had become emotional and triggered, and let loose some profanity… (Our Lady had told me back in 2020 that it’s important that I root it out of my life.) I was trapped between instantly regretting it, and rationalizing it. And then the rain immediately returned, and was too severe to be driven through. Again, not normal. When it lightened up, I took the opportunity to drive home. Afterward, it poured hard and light, on and off, intermittently. But when I was sitting outside with the stray cats, making sure they had shelter and something to eat, I decided to sing a Marian hymn… and the storm got worse instantaneously. Again, not normal. It lightened somewhat after I went back inside the house.

In place of the love that once was is the same fear I once had of them when I was 12. The same savagery that calls for repentance and conversion unto God by fear if not by love, for the sake of sinful humanity. Temporal punishment due to sin in the world is stacked up too high, and the Chastisement (the capital Event itself) is now inevitable, but – as said by Our Lord and Lady to numerous mystics and visionaries over the years – can be mitigated.

This incident at the George Floyd mural in Toledo Ohio reminds me of a warning about what awaits New Vegas (or in our case – metaphorically – New Sodom) in Stephen King’s “The Stand” (episode 8 of the new mini-series). I actually did not even see this story until today. It took me completely by surprise.

Bottom line: If you as an individual or as a society glorify sin, vice, evil and injustice (REAL injustice, like idolatry and blasphemy, whatever/whomever denies God what is His by right), there’s going to be a “response team” sent out to address it. There is only one true King, Lord, God.

Consider therefore how I died because of My love, and yet nobody repays Me with love, but they even take from Me what is Mine by right; for it would be true justice if men improved their lives in proportion to the pain and suffering of their redemption. But now they want to live all the worse in proportion to the bitter pain and death I suffered when redeeming them; and the more I show them the hatefulness and ugliness of sin, the more boldly they want to sin. Behold, therefore, and consider that I do not get angry without cause, for they have changed My mercy into wrath. I redeemed them from sin, and they entangle themselves even more in sin. (Our Lord to His bride)

“Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me,” as the saying goes.

Published by endallwar8894

Just a little Catholic living a hidden multidimensional life.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: