I sing Happy Birthday to Jesus on December 25th. I get all pissy and cranky when someone tries to break into my prayer closet. It gets ugly - hockey fights soothe me. I find thunder and lightning comforting. The last man who punched me in the face stopped reproducing - FOREVER.
WERE GOING ON THE POWER PRAY HOCKEY PEOPLE - EVEN GOALIES CAN GO ON THE O!
Hello. Thanks for stopping by and reading. Today, I’m typing about something some people don’t want to think about. Alcohol related deaths. I’ve met many interesting people along the way so far. Quite a few of them are now deceased. Some of them are probably still out there. Some of them really didn’t like me and maybe still don’t. Yeah, I don’t care if people who clearly have problems with alcohol and drugs don’t like the fact that I want them to be healthy and sober. Sometimes the party and the fun ends badly.
Let me give you a written picture of one day when I was 17. On that day, I got a call from my mother (may she be resting blissfully in peace). She was frantic and highly distraught. My father (may he also be resting blissfully in peace) had been involved in a solo car accident and was flown to shock trauma. I was alone at home and had no money to pay the toll to drive to the hospital in the city. Thankfully, a neighbor down the street loaned me toll money and off I went as quickly as I could. I parked in staff parking which led to a parking ticket, wandered around the hospital in shock searching for the emergency surgical unit wondering if perhaps I had lost my dad. At some point I found an elevator in the emergency room and the surgeon who had just worked on my dad was standing next. He could see I was worried and asked if he could help me locate someone. When I told him I had come to find my dad who had arrived a few hours before, he told me he’d just come out of surgery with my dad and that he had died on the operating table. Very quickly however, he told me that my dad had been revived and was in recovery. I was then lead off the elevator and shown to my dad’s room where my mother and several nurses were hovering over the wrecked body of my father. His name was Fritz.
There he was, laying unconscious on a hospital with tubes, monitors, pins in his arms and legs and covered with bandages. I felt sick. I had to leave the room. I went down the hall to the vending machines and stood there staring at packaged sandwiches for a good long while. Eventually, I purchased a tuna sandwich and a soda. Once I went back to my dad’s room, I was ready to hear the prognosis. No one knew at that point if he was going to with us by daybreak. Morning came and he was still alive. Finally my mother and I made our way home and began to discuss visiting schedules. I was still in high school, so obviously I was to take the afternoon shifts. Days went by and my father’s status was still critical. Eventually, he was moved to a room in the intensive care unit where he spent the next two months. That accident happened within two miles of our family home.
After two different complicated surgeries involving both skin grafts and vein grafts, he was allowed to come home. It had been three months since his accident and he was still in pretty bad shape. His car had been totaled, so when the family got a chance to purchase a new car for him – it had to be an automatic. He was now disabled and couldn’t drive a manual. My mother and I drove him around for almost a year before he could get behind that wheel again though. Several years later, I received another phone call.
This time it was my mother informing me that the car I used to drive back and forth to work had been trashed. Come to find out my older brother used it the night before and proceeded to lie everyone, including the insurance company stating that someone else was driving, but he was drunk and couldn’t remember who. It turned out, he wasn’t wearing his seat belt and his head flew into the windshield closer to the passenger side and cracked the windshield. Those who investigated the accident bought my brother’s story and he wasn’t charged with a DWI. I had to walk to work everyday after that. That accident happened less than 1/4 mile away from our family home. The next phone call I remember came as less of shock.
My dad had been arrested outside the local adult beverage store, because he backed into an off-duty police officer’s car and had a blood-alcohol level high enough to get jail time for a DUI. At first he was on work release. Later he was on home detention. That accident happened within 1/2 mile from our family home. But wait, there’s more. A lot more.
Next alcohol related news my family received happened while my mother was on vacation. That happened often at this point. I was alone at home and wouldn’t you know it I get a phone call from the local hospital informing me that my father was in the hospital and receiving treatment for minor wounds and insulin shock. He was later charged with a DWI. He crossed the double-yellow line and hit a mini-van with an entire family in it, including a new born child. Thank God those people were not hurt. This time the courts decided to give my dad home detention, so at the very least he couldn’t get a hold of alcohol any more. A NOT TO DIABETICS – YOU AND ALCOHOL ARE NOT FRIENDS. YOU WILL NEVER BE FRIENDS. COME TO TERMS WITH THIS. GET YOUR FAMILY AND FRIENDS IN THE KNOW ABOUT THAT. NOW. NO, RIGHT NOW.
Another phone call I remember was about my brother F. Christian who had been in a truck with his friends. He was drunk. They were hit head on by another drunk. The fact he was drunk may have actually saved his life. He was flown to shock trauma. His head went through the windshield. My dad went and picked him up that same day. For some reason he was released with shards of glass in his head. I spent the next two hours in the bathroom picking glass out of my brother’s bloody, head and face. He was scarred for life. Now comes the part of this real life story that I will be more specific about.
I had two beautiful little twin boys named Ryan and Thomas. There father and I were living together and were discussing marriage. We met at a Washington Capitals game. Those who know me can probably guess how thrilled I was to meet a fellow ice hockey fan. I was just couldn’t imagine anything better, because I grew up around football and baseball fans. I mean we were both Caps fans. One day, I woke up and, as women often do, felt sick to my stomach. I had a feeling I was likely pregnant. I was happy and scared, but told my man that I thought I was pregnant. His reaction seemed encouraging. We both went to work and on the way home from work I bought a pregnancy test.
I bounded through the front door and headed right to the bathroom. I peed on the stick, put it on the sink and went to the living room to turn on the TV while waiting for the results. That’s when I noticed that all of my boyfriends furniture was gone. There was no note. I couldn’t think, so I went up to the bathroom and saw the positive result on the pregnancy. There I was standing in my house, alone and pregnant. I called my boyfriend, but his phone number had been disconnected. I called his sister and she told me he didn’t want to talk to me and she hung up the phone. I found out later that he told her a bunch of lies about me and did not inform her that he had run like a sad, pathetic little boy from his responsibility as a father.
My parents couldn’t help me, so I raised two little boys by myself. When they were around 4, there father tracked me down and appeared at my door. He wanted to be involved in their lives. I was weary and cautious. I wanted to do the right thing for my children, so I agreed to let him spend time them under supervision. When they were about 5 1/2, he and I made arrangements with the help of social services to plan for him to get custody every other weekend. That process took a bit of time, because I wasn’t too keen on letting a runner have parental control of my children. Eventually though, he had shown signs of some fatherly maturity so, for my kids sake, we set a date for him to have unsupervised custody of the twins and at the age of 6, I put my two little men into a car and sent them off with someone who I have trouble even to this day describing as a man, never to see them alive again.
Long story short, their father, his brother and a few friends had been drinking the night they were meant to come back home to me for the week. Their father loaded them into the car and buckled them into their car safety seats. What he neglected to do however, was buckle the safety seats into the car. He was intoxicated and although his brother made a meager attempt at telling him he shouldn’t drive, he got in the car and headed to me.
He was driving at the speed of 50 mph and crossed the yellow line plowing directly into a mini-van travelling at the same speed driven by a grandmother who had just visited her ailing husband in the hospital after stroke. Her name was Mona. She had a van full of gifts for her 6 grandchildren who she was planning to see the next day at a family reunion. My children immediately became little torpedoes who flew from the back seat into the windshield. No one survived the accident. I got a phone call several hours after expecting the return of my children informing me that I had to come to the local hospital. All the man would tell me on the phone was that my children had been involved in a motor vehicle accident. That accident happened 2 miles away from my house.
Here’s why I don’t think bad driving, distracted driving, drunk driving or drugged driving is at all, in the slightest a light or laughing matter people having a big party with your lives: I had to walk into a cold, sterile room and walk up to a metal slab and see my little children who had recently learned how to ice skate mangled and twisted – DEAD with bits of their skin torn completely away from their precious little bodies. One of my children was missing an eyeball.
I have no sympathy for you people who refuse to admit you have a problem. ZERO SYMPATHY. It took me five years to forgive their father. I’d say the simple fact that I could walk into a building filled with Washington Capitals fans at all, let alone continue to support that team no matter what kind of crappy game they could sometimes put on ice was quite an accomplishment. Every single time I saw a Capitals fan after my children died was a reminder of their father. It took everything I had to get a season seat in 2007-2008 and go sit around a bunch of people who were a constant reminder a male with a penis who used to be Capitals fan.
One year after the accident that killed his brother and my children, the twins’ father’s brother committed suicide wracked with guilt over the fact he didn’t put in an effort to take the keys away from his brother that night. His parents lost their only sons and their only grandchildren in a year. Both of them died in a drinking and driving related car accident three years later. Many lives destroyed. My life changed forever.
I’ve met some families who ignore their family members problems. I’ve met some people who don’t suck it up, take the hit and get their loved ones into rehab. I don’t have nice things to say to any of either. Share this with everyone you know. It can happen to you. YOU ARE NOT IMMORTAL.
BE SOBER MUSICIANS. BE SOBER HOCKEY LOVERS. BE SOBER PEOPLE OF EARTH. DO WHAT YOU HAVE TO DO TO GET HELP AND IF YOU HAVE A FRIEND OF FAMILY MEMBER WHO REFUSES, ACCEPT THE CONFLICT. ACCEPT THE FIGHT. BRAVE UP. UNDERSTAND THE LIVES ASSOCIATED WITH YOUR PROBLEMS. NO I WON’T JUST SIT DOWN AND SHUT UP.
Peace – PastorMia – email@example.com
For those who aren’t cowards who roam the internet, I know you know I’m not referring to you, but I’m mentioning it now so that there are absolutely no misunderstandings.
For those who are cowardly ground-cursed, scum-slithers whose ancestors got downed by God and hide behind fake “social” (the more operative term is “anti-social”) media “personas”, cowering in your flesh bags as though some faux-deity dubbed you “King” or “Queen of Cool” – have a good time quivering in your sad, unholy skin.
My name is Maria “Mia” Lueth. I have been known as “Jag” while defending a net. I have also been known as a nick-name a former boyfriend called me that is Rated R and implies that I know my way around a man and have some skills in that milieu. When I have something to say, I don’t hide behind a mask. I just put my face right there online (VLOGS happen) and say it. I also type it. If you had the intestinal fortitude to come on over to my apartment to say what you want to say, I would listen to you. You’d at the very least get kudos for “balls” or “boobs”. Until then, I will simply dispel a rumor that circulates every-so-often when folks get bored or whatever it is some of you out in the world get. I never had sex with Vanilla Ice. I have had sex with a certain musician who I was dating. He had to pay a company to keep my name out of the press. He cheated on me twice. I said good-bye and I never looked back. He has to beg people to work with him these days. Done deal.
Yes, I will date actors, but no those who have to stay in character all the time. Not for me. Simple enough.
I almost married an ice hockey player, but shortly before we were to be wed, he was killed in a car accident. It was an accident. The driver survived and of course I forgave him and sent him prayers for recovery and a few humorous cards to make him laugh a little. Laughter heals. That is truth.
I do remember when Baltimore had an ice hockey team. I managed to get in on helping out someone who worked in the evenings to make ends meet for his family. I helped him clean up after concerts, events and ice hockey games. I remember this one time, I got up the courage to talk to one of the “Big Guy” ice hockey players. I was a young 14-year old female whose dream job just happened to be a job working for a National Hockey League. I wanted to ask a few questions, because I love ice hockey. Interestingly, there weren’t many adults around and for some strange reason this ice hockey player who was at least 10 years my senior thought I was curious about his penis.
Here’s something that “person with a penis” (man is too generous a description), didn’t realize that my late Earthly father one Major Fritz H. Lueth, decorated Korean war vet, never let his little girl go places unprepared. Swiss Army knives, butterfly knives and small multi-tools come in handy for a variety of purposes. Fast forward to now, there’s a male who gets NHL money walking around with a scar on his upper-left thigh. I’m pretty sure I can handle myself around the “Old Boys Fraternity” known as the National Hockey League. Go on Twitterati – tweet this on over to @TBLightning and @NHL – it’ll be fun – you’ll like it. I dare ya.
By the way Baltimore, the Orioles used to an ice hockey team. True story.
I’ve been wanting to get married and take care of a man for quite a while now – years actually – so let’s accelerate the process shall we God. Thank you daddy. I love you.
Just so everyone is all happy and smiley, I’ll mention that the adult who put chemicals in a beer he gave me when I was 13 and then proceeded to rape a paralyzed teenage female, that’d be me – as mentioned a while back on my blog, was prayed for by me as well. I mean, no worries law enforcement types, I introduced him to Jesus via prayer. I wouldn’t any misunderstandings. Sometimes people misunderstand me. Like this one time I told this other guy I was dating that I wanted to go to an ice hockey game for my birthday and he thought I said I wanted to go a dinner theater. Well, pardon me, I thought English was his first language.
If you actually want to be my friend, you should know this – I like friends who will stand by your side and walk straight through the bowels of hell with ya and then tell people you were at the opera. I don’t fair weather anything. I don’t usually care who started it, but I always know whose going to finish it.
For the single males who I can legally take over state lines on this good planet, I’m aiming at marriage and I DON’T DO DIVORCE. All in, or nothing at all.
Somebody must have prayed for a wife God, otherwise why do I feel such a hankering for marrying and making babies? It’s overwhelming for some reason. Did you know you can order up a dude on Craigslist? WOWEE!
I love you – peace – The UnPC Pastor Mia – 410-980-1173, firstname.lastname@example.org, 1622 E Rebecca Court, Forest Hill, MD 21050.
PS – If any of you lurkers who read my blog want me to get a SAG card, you will be needing to pay me. I might be just a little to hot for reality TV.
We thank you father God for looking after us, keeping us in your good light and providing for our needs. You Rock. It is in the name of Jesus we pray. Poor people like to eat food. Amen.
Sometimes I write poetry and create lyrics my friends. (I’m owed music royalties – I rather think those who owe me those royalties would rather deal with lawyers as opposed to a guy his mom calls “The Butcher” wouldn’t you? 😉 ) I’m a very reasonable woman. I’ve recently read some of the poetry written by some of my blog followers. Some of it’s deep and some of it’s a bit, light, yet with a touch of hickory. Thanks for sharing.
Hey, U.S. Military I’ve been remembering all the fun I’ve had on this planet. Yeah, it was a super great time I had over there at the MEPS in the early 90’s. I just couldn’t believe it, I scored so well on the ASVAB that I qualified for ATC. The best part about that experience was the part where ALL OF MY PERSONAL SENSITIVE DATA (Driver’s licence, social security card, etc.) just up and disappeared out the not-so-secure lockers YOU provide to Navy hopefuls. True story. I guess you wanted to top that complete disregard for my safety and comfort as a U.S. American citizen by allowing OPM to get hacked a couple of years back, and yet again ALL OF MY PERSONAL SENSITIVE DATA (Bank accounts, employment history, etc.) was compromised by people who, as the news put it “were just trying to figure out what criteria the U.S. uses to obtain national security clearances. Something I did, in fact obtain.
I feel all happy and safe and warm and fuzzy my own government. Although, upon further review, I think I need a gigantic SIGN FROM GOD to let me know if my government actually likes or not. If not, let me know. Simple fix, HELLO CANADA – I HAPPEN TO KNOW THAT YOU ARE A SANCTUARY COUNTY AND I LOVE ICE HOCKEY SO MUCH, I LET DUDES ON MY PICK-UP LEAGUE PUNCH ME IN THE STOMACH, MORE THAN ONCE.
I know you likey that shiny Cup that used to be owned by a Lord CANADA. Hey, me too. We should be friends. I like a lot Canadian Music. It all reminds me of hockey. I’ll marry Canadian. God, then hockey, then sex, then being nice to your neighbors. I’m pretty sure I got the order correct this time.
No National Hockey League people – I NEVER STOP. I CAN GO DAYS WITHOUT SLEEP. I CAN READ A LOCKER ROOM SIMPLY BY ENJOYING ALL THAT HD PRESS AVAILABLE THESE DAYS.
Yes, Steve Yzerman, I ripped all the “Q” page out of the dictionary. Why, QUIT IS NOT A WORD.
I hope all of you are well. God Bless the sticks, the pucks, the clothes, the plane, the skates, the equipment, and the glasses on Steve Yzerman’s face. Hallelujah. Amen. Thank you Father God.
The “hockey gods” don’t run me. I run the “hockey gods”.
Sure, I’ll date a defense man who goes both ways. There’s nothing hotter than a good two-way game.
It’s hockey season. I need a husband. I don’t lie. It’s just true. The ice hockey fraternity wants me. My hockey IQ just keeps getting higher and higher. Try me out and see for yourselves. I used to dream of the Stanley Cup when I was a little kid too National Hockey League types. I have something in common with Lightning GM Steve Yzerman. No penis. No problem. I see ice hockey games in fluid dynamics.
One day, someone will actually take me seriously. Until then, I’m still planning to do a Jesus-lifting, charity 1000 mile walk to Tampa Bay, FL. Well, the employment page for the Lightning says I should be local. Okay, I’ll get local.
Body of Christ unity. Live it. Love it. GO GOD. Of course I want a cure for a cancer <—–(Punk az frick nut that deseres New York cab driver body language), I get the “joy and pleasure” of living with it – every frickin’ day. I’m not dead yet planet Earth. Don’t pay any attention to any rumors any of you hear – Define what you mean by “Alien”.
Go Bolts! #LoversGonnaLove
I love you (some of you should understand – Kingdom of God wise – not romantically – but LOVE nonetheless). No, ladies, I don’t want your husband. I want my own. No husbands, I give you that old stinky glove PAW IN THE FACE if you even spark a thought I want to see your “little head” which is often, NOT WHAT YOU SHOULD BE THINKING WITH.
Peace – Pastor Mia – email@example.com 410-980-1173. Phone conversation is not a lost art. Don’t be shy. Communicate. I’m friendly and I’m glad a great many of you have never had to identify the dead bodies of your own children. LOVE THEM WELL MY FRIENDS. LOVE THEM WELL.
Okay fine, I’ll be on TV – okay. Fine – I’ll write a book. I need an agent and book deal. Hey thanks. 😉 Hi there interesting people who read. I like ya. You’re neat.
I’m not sure how many hockey fans read my blog, but for those who are and you’ve been at it for at least 20 years, you’ll have to agree – it’s turned into a League of roving gypsies. I mean you take a break for a summer and as you start gearing up for a new season lo, you discover “what!? – “who got traded for who now?” “The coaches gypsy too! Crazy eyes Boucher is back! Sorry Mike Yeo, Gabby’s gone WILD! The Hawk’s Joel Quenneville is boring. I mean it would be much better if he switched places with his buddy Ken Hitchcock over there at the St. Louis Blues.
Dear National Hockey League Goalies,
I’m still deciding about my ministry name. I was thinking “Jesus On Ice Musical Ministry” or “God Rocks The World Ministry.” I also need to get back to tweeting apparently. So the “artist formerly know as @creasinger” may end up on twitter soon as @GangstahOfLove or @TheUnPCPastor, I haven’t decided. What do you think?
I like talking to radio shows. It’s fun. 410-980-1173. Strangers too.
That’s right single men. Sometimes I check you out. I’m a single lady after all. Grins.
I’ll admit it – I can’t lie – I told God that if he doesn’t find me a husband soon – there shall be backsliding – a lot of backsliding. I mean hockey season is mating season. Yes it is. That’s final.
Thank you father God for inspiring a few helpers who want to help me coordinate a ONE THOUSAND MILE WALK through most of the old Southeast division. Cancer’s like a tired old hockey goon as far as I’m concerned. I’m waiting for some brave soul to let me know what charity or charities I’m walking for. No – you tell me. I’m doing it. Maybe I’ll sing the whole way too! You’re enthusiasm is killing me twelve people who read my blog. God is good.
I love you – peace – Pastor Mia 1622 E Rebecca Court, Forest Hill, MD 21050, firstname.lastname@example.org.
Go Bolts! MAN U!
I am being very protective of some particular types of people and I am letting fellow clergy know that some of you have been coming way to hard at certain types of people. There are people who simply do not understand what is meant by “we were born wrong” and clergy who continuously go on and on about how we’re all terrible sinners and we all wrong and we can’t ever be good and on and on. Hey, He forgave us. We know we are not perfect. There are some people with actual real brain damage and actual real learning disabilities. I am one of those people. Many of them need to hear THE GOOD NEWS. If you or someone you know has been beat down by ANY CHURCH MEMBER OR CLERGY, stop attending that church. Read your bibles at home in a quiet place with calm, gentle souls. You can pray to our father God an thank him for pointing you to a church, mentor, tutor or small group of other quiet, calm, sensitive souls. He will answer your prayer. Sometimes you will need to be a little patient. You can trust him to know when you are ready to participate in certain bible study and which teacher is best for you. I will teach them if it’s a problem for some of you “churchy McJudjertons” out there. Back AWAY from them. Thank you.
All teachers/preachers/priests mean by “we were born wrong” is that because of Adam and Eve’s decision based on a crafty, sneaky no good serpent in the Garden of Eden that is described in Genesis, human kind got some yucky, no good stuff in us. The GOOD NEWS is that God’s good, cleansing word was born in the flesh and human kind knows that flesh by many names. One of those names is Jesus. He is OUR Lord and Savior. God’s plan to remove all that yucky “sin nature” that we were born in the flesh with is to have us accept his only begotten son Jesus, be REBORN in Christ and let his blood clean all that yucky out of us so that we are not denied Heaven and an eternity with God in Heaven. IT IS NOT YOUR FAULT YOU WERE BORN THAT WAY. God is not mad at us. I promise. He knows it takes us a while to get used to some things. He knows we all think in different ways. He understands that some of us get hurt when loud people yell at us and call us “idiots.” CLERGY SHOULD NOT DO THIS. I am a Pastor who will tell you to let GOD fight for you and allow God raised protective types to shield and protect you. It is okay if you don’t always understand. I have a college education and a very high IQ and sometimes even I get stuck. I ask OUR Father God for help all the time.
He loves us. He doesn’t want us to get hurt. Christians should Jesus check EVERY SINGLE DAY. We are not shame based. Let go. Let God. Remember that Jesus is the HEAD of our church. Remember that Jesus is the HEAD of our households. Unless you are the creator of all things, you are a servant of the Lord God our Messiah. Kings serve the Lord. Queens serve the lord. Janitors serve the Lord. Athletes serve the Lord. Submission is not a dirty word. Surrender to Jesus and let him know you are willing to learn. We are all learning. Yes, there are different types of baptism. When we are ready, God guides us in that direction. Take heart. God is NOT A BULLY.
God loves us and Jesus, who was born clean, without sin was the only able to go to the cross for us. We can happily accept God’s grace even if we don’t understand what we’ve done wrong. Some of us would like to learn the true and real, proper Gospel exactly the way God intended. And we shall. Not all clergy scream, yell and stomp. There are quite of few of us who are patient and not at all quick to anger. We have time and patience.
QUESTIONS ABOUT JESUS, THE HOLY SPIRIT AND THE KINGDOM ARE ALWAYS WELCOME.
It is perfectly okay with me if you read this and check scripture to make sure what I am telling you is Holy Bible proper. If you have a comment, have questions, need prayer, or have been called rude, mean, hurtful names by other Christians – please do not hesitate or be afraid to tell me. I will listen. I concentrate on healing. We are meant to love one another. Our Father created us that way. Any church teaching from the Holy Bible which contains both the Old and the New Testaments, must remember that we are not a snobby country club. I will talk to you even if YOU ARE NOT A CHRISTIAN. Jesus is for everyone. Thank.
Thank you Father for your mercy, kindness, healing, light and love. In Jesus name we become whole. Hallelujah. Now say “Amen”. You are blessed.
I love you – peace – Pastor Mia 1622 E Rebecca Court, Forest Hill, MD 21050 410-980-1173 email@example.com (I’ll even talk to you if hate sports) Are you a Psalmist? If you need a bible and you’re flat broke – they can be purchased for $1.05 (US) in any Dollar Store. It is not stealing if you take the Gideon’s Bible located in many hotel rooms across the globe. It is a gift to from God.
I’d like to welcome and thank those of you follow my blog. I ALWAYS appreciate anyone who reads, comments, likes etc. Sometimes, when I get a chance, I read what other people write. That includes some of you. I know that some of people who have actually met didn’t know a good about my life. Some of what some of them have read on my blogs (Triple MMM will be deleted shortly – all the archives are now on this blog) is a complete surprise to some people.
I’m sure some of them don’t contact me because they don’t know what to say and they just can’t believe I got the call from God. Well, I did. There is no mistaking that kind of call, I can assure all of you. I said “yes” to Jesus and now God’s handing me a collar. No, I didn’t go seminary. No, I didn’t go to a religious university. Yes, I was at the tip top of my classes based on the theory of evolution. I love science. Most particularly, I love the science of light and sound. Female pastors do where collars and we can get married. I am non-denominational and what’s known as an Evangelist. The Bible isn’t some awful book. God gets misrepresented – ALL the time. Many of you don’t even give it a chance. The “old boys club” of the National Hockey League probably won’t ever know or understand what I’ve sacrificed for them, but I already did it, so it doesn’t really matter any way. One thing’s for sure, I absolutely won’t, for any reason, even if I’m in a firefight with anything related to demons, write or say anything that even has the slightest potential of taking my ice hockey team off their best game. GO BOLTS!
One day soon, those who read this and think I’ve gone straight off my rocker and I should spend my time in a loony bin will begin to actually experience true and real supernatural activity on this planet. Some of you may even begin speaking in tongues, especially shortly after reading one of my blog posts.
I am now 44 and so far, cancer hasn’t killed me. I have not received any treatments and I can’t do traditional treatments anyway. I have a congenital heart defect. Any known treatment for blood cancer would be too much for my heart, as far as I know. Since I haven’t received any treatments and the cancer hasn’t killed me yet, I can’t have an aggressive form of is, so there’s still hope. I am not afraid to die.
Over the last three years, I’ve been doing a lot of learning. I actually pray when I sleep. I started speaking in tongues. The enemies of God don’t like me very much. It’s not as though I wake in the morning hopping out of bed these days all sunshine and smiles, because, I might get attacked pretty much any time. Oh well, let them come. The one thing that SHOULD NOT HAPPEN is friendly FIRE people who claim to love the Lord Jesus Christ. It needs to stop. It will stop and I’ve been called up to the majors, so to speak, to take a 1000 mile walk, on foot to look some church “leadership” right in the eye gates to make sure we stop fighting with each other. We shall not be oppressed and we shall not let any force divide and conquer. I will walk at least sixty miles a day through six states on foot ending in Tampa Bay, FL at the Tampa Bay Lightning’s home barn. When I there. I’m staying. Make no attempt to talk me out of it.
Every Christian denomination is now on formal. I’m one of God’s specialists. I love my father God and all those rude, loud mouth, F bomb dropping, hooligans of the ice hockey world are like family to me. The F#$K if I’m going to let them go down. I pray for peace, but if it’s war that comes. I’ll be waitin’ for ya. By the authority and power provided to me by the Kingdom of Heaven, his shed shall protect you. Tweet this around to EVERY SINGLE ICE HOCKEY TEAM YOU CAN FIND. This is your point of contact for that protection. Read this and send it to everyone you know and love. There is confirmed Angelic activity on planet Earth. Be ready, take the Bible seriously please. I’ve been in battle since before I could walk on two legs, trust me. Thank you. I sustained a rather heavy duty injury and I’ve been recovering, but I’m an ice hockey fan and we’re not like other fans. I don’t answer to the Pope and I don’t need permission to DEMOLISH true and real evil. The ice hockey lovers do it on ice. I do it in the supernatural.
PLEASE DO NOT CONFUSE ME WITH A “LARPER”. I don’t hate the TV show “Supernatural”, but they and their fans need to stay in their warm safe places in make pretend land. I do not get that luxury.
I’m going to need some Psalmists. I’ll be raising some money to help God answer prayers on my 1000 mile walk from Maryland to Tampa Bay. If we need miracles – look the blankity blankin’ FLOCK out – we’re going to get them. I am a Christ and I will act like one. I don’t negotiate with terrorists.
I love you – Peace – Pastor Mia 1622 E Rebecca Court, Forest Hill, MD 21050, 410-980-1173, firstname.lastname@example.org, stop by, call, write, don’t be shy. I’m a very gentle soul.