By Jenny Miner <firstname.lastname@example.org>
Not Just a Bio – Two
Bab always said, “Worship God; Trust in Duverus.” Bab was
the Atonga to Delamer Duverus which meant he was the voice or scribe for the
angel and he was continually saying things we could not comprehend until we
found ourselves on the other side and seeing life through the mind of one
who, through the Grace of God, hears His voice and can now serve God in that
state which is our first relationship to Him. I understand those words now.
We give thanks to God continually for all our needs and challenges and we
trust explicitly in what Duverus has us do, even though we may not be able
to see the Reason of it, or the effects of what we have done in His name.
We know the fruits of Him, and what He wants for us as individuals and as
a nation, and we have to Trust that it will all work out. This means having
“no expectations” and “going with the flow,” even
though you have no idea where the flow is going. Trust became a very big word
About four years before I began to hear Duverus, I would say the oddest thing
to myself. I would be praying for guidance, or sitting quietly because I was
too ill to walk across the room, or nursing the baby when I would whisper
to myself, “Spread your legs wide.” So many of our thoughts we
just disregard, and since this was quiet like a thought even though I whispered
it, for about a year or so I never paid it much attention. Gradually, the
frequency of this event increased and I began to remember that this happened
and wondered why I would say it to myself. Just like everything in my life,
however, I took it in stride and just watched it. I never judged it to be
right or wrong, just that it was.
I had for many years, after having had extensive dental work done on my teeth
and an immune system collapse, what seemed to be a bronchiole infection that
kept me coughing and clearing my lungs continually. I had to sit up in bed
just to sleep. My heart would also race until I could calm it down, and horrors
if an electrical storm was to come upon us, for my body would drop all of
its iron, which was probably very little, but it would have its effect, and
I would be more tired yet. My menses had always been heavy, but they became
burdensome, long and with a short cycle. My body was checked for heavy metal
poisoning and found to be heavily toxic with mercury, lead, cadmium, aluminum
and others. I felt sure this was the cause of many of my health problems,
but because I always felt that most of my problems were caused by wrong thinking
and my responsibility, I avoided the medical profession. I did have the mercury
amalgams removed from my teeth and felt better, did cleanses, took lots of
minerals and vitamins and ate the best we could and prayed and worked on myself.
I pulled at the hem of Christ’s robe more often than I can remember.
I had wanted to help God for so long, but with my state of health and my other
responsibilities, I was not sure this was ever going to happen even though
I was working on the understanding of homosexuality and doing my best to enlighten
others to the thought projection device. One night prior to all this that
was to happen, I was again praying to ask God to help Him when the still,
small voice told me, “Be careful for what you ask.” I thought
about that, but what else was there for me? That was all my heart really wanted
to do, that and to take care of my family. I could see my nation falling apart
and the people living without hope and ruining the health for themselves and
their progeny. I could see the lies and deceptions in the newspapers and in
our government and corporations and the lack of understanding. It was so difficult
to want to help and being physically unable to do so.
One night after a serious bout of coughing, I asked God, “How can I
help you when I feel this way?” My husband said in a few minutes I quieted
down and went to sleep. Within a week, after my heart raced all day and I
could not get it to stop, I was admitted to the hospital so that they could
slow down my heart and find out why I was so ill. It took an ultrasound to
determine I probably had uterine fibroids that caused increased menses, and
an anemic condition. My family physician suggested that I see a hematologist
because I did not want to receive blood, being something akin to cannibalism
in my book, and a gynecologist, an old school buddy, to see what could be
done for the fibroid tumors.
The hematologist gave me an iron concoction through an IV at the hospital.
I felt much better, but by the time the next menses struck, I was down again.
I had one more treatment, but I did not go again because the process was cost
prohibitive and I did not seem to recover after the menses flowed. I told
the hematologist as I told the family physician about my bronchiole infection
and the heavy metal toxicity in my body, but they always seemed to ignore
the information because they never discussed it.
The gynecologist had a great bedside manner as I visited with him in my street
clothes before the exam. However, we did not quite hit it off. I do not remember
how we came to the subject of hormones, but I told him that whatever they
fed the chickens would put breasts on men. Eating chicken was like taking
an estrogen pill. He scoffed at me, but I was only quoting another doctor.
Then we talked about receiving a blood transfusion and I told him I thought
it was cannibalism and did not want one. He asked, “why” and I
told him it was written in my heart. This agitated his left-brain mindset
and he told me something his mother had told him, “God gave you a brain.
Use it.” I am not sure he used the word God, but I felt like I was banging
my head against a door that was stuck and would not open. I just kept my mouth
shut after that. I readied myself, “spread my legs wide” for an
examination and was told that the uterus was as big as a grapefruit and really
needed to go. “Of all the operations that I have done, you really need
this operation,” he told me. I was not sure of the connotations of that
statement, but when I asked about cost, I just knew it was not going to happen.
We did not have the money and could never afford insurance. However, I liked
the surgeon despite us being at odds, and I was thankful for the understanding
of at least part of my problems.
I did not want to have surgery, to be under anesthesia, and I did not want
to lose a body part and my supply of estrogen. I asked other women who had
had this problem and they pointed to DDT as their father’s had been
farmers and DDT was used without care. I remembered all the DDT mosquito spray
that I had danced through as a child in Florida where they sprayed continually.
Most hysterectomies are performed because of fibroids and if we had not used
that terrible chemical, had even tested it for a few years to make sure it
was harmless, so many women would not have suffered.
For about two months I worked with the situation, tried to find avenues of
alternative medicine, but my health showed no improvement and really seemed
to get worse. Our parents said they would help with the money, so that part
of the situation was not a problem. I prayed and prayed for guidance and this
is when the still, small voice told me, “It is the best you can do in
your culture.” I so wondered at that statement, “your culture.”
Who was telling me this? Needless-to-say, I was so thankful for the guidance.
I called the surgeon and we made plans to have it done the middle of February.
The surgeon and I were again at odds when he prescribed a chemical that was
to clean out the intestinal track named Polyethylene glycol, or GoLytly. I
did not feel good about using it. The surgeon told me that it was synthetic
and would not hurt me. I called a friend whose father was a renowned chemist,
and was told that a synthetic form of any compound is still that same compound.
My body was so toxic with heavy metals that I did not want to add to its toxicity
especially with the chemicals of surgery, so I devised my own scheme to accomplish
this. Later I learned that the administration of PEG-ES has been fatal especially
causing pulmonary edema. I feel that God warned me again, having this feeling
not to take the PEG. I had told this surgeon about my upper respiratory troubles
and the heavy metal toxicity. There was no comment made to me on this.
I decided to have my hernia repaired at the same time but the gynecological
surgeon was not licensed to do this so I found another. At the first appointment
this surgeon was very cold and said nothing to me except a few words and then
told me to “cough.” Here again I felt at odds with someone in
charge of my health, but I accepted it as that was the way it was.
The morning of surgery came and we arrived early to get prepped. The gynecological
surgeon came in with bravado to set me at ease, and my heart went pit-a-pat
at his tactics. I did not know it at the time, but he looked different. I
remember his brows being knit, as if in a state of worry. As I look back at
that morning I remembered I said things to him that I know I was guided to
say or were said through me. I told him what the still, small voice had said
about having surgery, that it was the best we could do in our culture. He
gave me a speech about women and hormones that was exactly like a speech I
had heard from another doctor who was a Boy Scout leader and I mentioned this
fact and the doctor’s name. I guess they had both gone to the same seminar,
that’s what the other doctor did every weekend; he left his family and
went to drug seminars. Later this other doctor was to be a recipient of one
of the first five Healings that I gave away. When I asked the surgeon for
information about whether or not to leave my ovaries, I couldn’t help
but smile when he talked about leaving them. What I mean by this is that upon
reflection, I know that it was not just I smiling. It was Duverus smiling
through me empathetically. It was a wide, angelic smile that lasted forever.
The surgeon warned me about ovarian cancer and I said I wasn’t worried
about that. The surgeon just had a dose of Duverus but he did not know it,
and I was not to realize it until later reflection. I am not sure what effect
this had on him, but he left and I felt like again there was no connection
with this surgeon on a person-to-person basis. The nurse told me she usually
had to kick him out before surgery because he visited so long, but we did
not seem to mesh and he left fairly soon after he arrived.
We did tell the surgeon I would accept blood if my life was threatened, but
that I really did not want it. My energy was low because I was at the end
of my menses and they told me my blood count was at 10. I had also fasted
for the surgery for a day.
Then we talked to the anesthesiologist. He, too, came in with bravado and
set me at ease. I asked him why he did not use acupuncture to anesthetize.
He laughed. He made sure everything was good to go and he left.
The other surgeon who was to do the hernia repair never came to say hello.
I said goodbye to my husband and they wheeled me off to surgery. I talked
to the surgeon’s nurse and told her I still did not understand about
the Drano stuff to clean me out, but that I used salt water flushes and enemas
and I knew I was clean. The anesthesiologist came and got me ready. He asked
me how tall I was and I told him that I was almost 6 feet 1 inch. He asked
me how tall my husband was and I told him, “He is a half-inch shorter
than I, but makes up for it in character.” The anesthesiologist said
he wished his wife said things like that about him. Being “short”
became a joke later about having little character. The next thing I knew was
that my head was tinkling and I said goodbye and I did not remember a thing
until three hours later when I began to wake up.
I woke up to excruciating pain in my lower abdomen. I expected some, but nothing
like this. I was freezing cold and they finally put me into some sort of warm
blanket, but it did not help and I pleaded with them for pain medication.
I struggled to make some sense of the pain, but my head was so full of anesthesia,
I could barely hold onto myself. In the room, the pain finally subsided. I
was in and out of it because of that medication, but the pain was so intense
that when the medication wore off, I pushed the button again.
I remembered two friends coming from work with flowers and I was barely able
to acknowledge them being there. That was about 1 o’clock in the afternoon.
About 3 o’clock another friend and her daughter came and I was more
alert, but still out of it. The young girl stared at me, a ghost, my red blood
cell count was down to 7 and I must have looked like death. I was able to
converse although my mouth was dry.
I do not remember what had happened before, if any other nurse had come in,
but at 4 o’clock or so this angel of a nurse came in and checked my
catheter. She said, “This thing is not draining.” She worked with
it and worked with it and got it to flow. My pain left. From then on, when
I had pain, I called in the nurse to adjust the catheter. That was the end
of the pain medication and slowly my head began to clear.
That evening the surgeon came to see me. I do not remember what was said,
except I said something about the pain medication. He said, “We like
to keep the women doped up the first day.” I probably gave him a disgusting
stare, but I do not remember. I had forgotten about the catheter problem completely.
I think he said something about my pallor and I just told him that the hospital
gown was just not my color. He left probably thinking it was another “bozo”
At 9 o’clock that evening the angel of a nurse took out the catheter
and the packing. I was so thankful and looked forward to a night of rest,
but I did not rest. I was up every half an hour urinating. They wanted me
to call in the nurse’s aide to check the flow of liquids, and I did,
every half an hour. In the morning the male nurse came in to say good morning.
He asked me how I slept and I said I did not, that I was up every half an
hour. He made a low whistle as he checked the IV monitor and turned it down.
Obviously it was on too high.
My husband came in at about the same time as the surgeon and the food. They
tried to feed me Jell-O, tea and some stuff they passed off as broth and I
got a little crazy because I wanted food, not that junk. I sounded like a
bitch, but a nutritionist should know better. My dear husband went home to
get some chicken broth I had made earlier. The surgeon told us how tired his
arms were from the two-hour long surgery. I thanked him again for his efforts.
He looked younger, very boyish.
About midday the hernia surgeon arrived and again he was not friendly. He
stood there at the bed looking at me like I was so offensive to him. There
was no smile, kind gesture or word. I knew that I looked like hell, but I
was sick. That was why I was there. Finally, after he pointed to my abdomen,
I figured out that he wanted to look at the incision. He did. That was it.
I surely was not impressed with his bedside manner. I did not have that cared
I passed the day okay, my hips hurt from being in that “spread your
legs wide” position from surgery for several hours that it took to do
it vaginally. I detest most TV so I mainly just prayed and gave thanks and
thought of perfection. I took my two required walks around the wing. The surgeon
came in late that afternoon with his bravado saying, “I hear you want
to bust out of here.” I thought it strange he walked across the room
as fast as he did being so short. I did not think that I was ready to go home,
so I was quiet and considered my options. I remembered again feeling very
uncared for and was really not ready to go home and face a family and to do
for them, but then remembered that it was a hospital. He told me I could not
have sex for six weeks and then smiled at me from ear to ear. I must have
given him the strangest look as I looked at his rather odd smile. It was almost
as if he were a cartoon and literally smiling from ear to ear. I finally decided
I could rest as well at home and decided to leave. I asked the surgeon for
pain medication, just so that I could rest. My hips hurt badly. He said that
it would be no problem, and left. The gentle, black, male nurse came in to
remove the IV apparatus from my hand and I called my husband to come get me.
I went home on a Wednesday evening. I struggled the next few days. There was
a fog in my head that would not go away and I could hardly think. That Sunday
the still, small voice told me to drink three glasses of water before I went
to bed. I did. About 11 p.m. I was awakened and was told to drink another
glass. I did. The rest of the night I sweated profusely and in the morning
my head was clear. I was so very thankful to have my mind back.
In the next few days the surgeon’s nurse called to see how I was doing,
and I told her I was finally on the mend. However, I was dealing with the
bronchiole infection now that the antibiotic had worn off from surgery, and
I was beginning to cough again. I was determined not to stress all those sutures
with coughing so I began to work on myself. By the Grace of God, this cleared
and the infection was gone.
During this time of convalescence I prayed to God for guidance for the coming
days. I knew I was going to feel much better and I wanted to help Him. I really
had no desires of my own to fulfill except the one I had with Him. I had been
given much in the way of understanding and I wanted to give it back. One day
while praying about what to do, the still, small voice came again to say,
“Dream your highest dream.” And so I did. I thought about talking
to doctors and others about healing and sharing the understanding that Duverus
had given me about homosexuality, degenerative diseases, and through The Golden
Reed. However, I really did not know how I was going to do this. I was a nobody
with no degree and I had nothing of the world to support me in my task.
I also worked on my feelings regarding the surgeon. I finally realized I was
at odds with him because our minds were not together. He was constantly on
my mind. In fact, I started fantasizing about him sexually, which I have done
with other men when I was at odds with them. I was trying to come to “oneness”
with him, to clear up the disharmonies between us. Later I was to realize
that Duverus encouraged and instigated much of this. He already had a hold
on my mind that I did not realize. He also had a hold on my body, and through
empathy was helping me.
About two weeks after surgery I returned to the emergency room because my
heart started racing again and would not stop. They stopped it abruptly with
some horrible chemical that made my heart jump out of my chest. However, I
made it through that and came home. I had to see the family physician again
and he supported that action by the emergency room. I was at odds again with
their invasive protocols.
It was not until later reflection that I remembered that each time before
my heart raced to the extent it did, I had drunk a cup of Earl Grey tea. I
am almost positive it was the caffeine in the tea that made my heart race.
No one ever asked me what I ate or drank and I do not know if anything would
have been done differently if it was known.
Before my first post op with the surgeon, I found myself still with this passion
for him. It became an obsession. I could find no reason for it, my husband
and I had a very happy relationship, but there I was making love to this surgeon
in my mind. I went to the first post op to figure out why this was, but I
could see no reason for this. First of all, he seemed very much like a homosexual,
had all the mannerisms of one that is effeminate. It did not dawn on me that
I never noticed this before. I had memories, obviously some my own and some
created by Duverus, but could not access them until Duverus let me. Secondly,
he did not really seem to care about me. I mentioned that I had to return
to the ER because of my heart and tried to call him. He just simply said that
he was out of town and did not ask me how I was faring or if we needed to
work on that problem. After I had showed him the tiny incisions on my abdomen
and after his nurse left, he reminded me that I still could not have sex for
another three weeks. I told him, “That’s the most difficult thing
to do, to abstain from sex.” I am not sure of his reaction because I
know Duverus hid it from me as He had hid so much from me about this surgeon,
but this surgeon had to regain his composure and told me that I could not
traumatize this area by having sex. He then said for the second time what
his mother had told him, “God gave you a brain. Use it.” I about
wanted to die. I am a very responsible person and just would not have said
that or had sex too early, but I sat there and took it. I was so embarrassed.
Then for the first time he was friendly with me and we talked about putting
a smiley face on the calendar, something my husband had already done, though
he marked it in error a few days later than necessary on April 1. That visit
was over and I would have ranted at Duverus over what He did to me, except
that it was like the whole event was not even there in my consciousness to
consider, nor was the fact that the surgeon acted like a homosexual. From
one minute to the next, I did not even realize that Duverus was talking to
me until later.
After this visit the Presence, because I was not sure it was Duverus, inspired
me to write The Healing of the Nation. The first chapter was called “Not
Just a Bio” and was about how the angel let me help a community by letting
the good guys know which people were involved in drugs and Satanism as many
were civic leaders and one was a doctor. The writing of it took about two
weeks and when it was finished I made five copies, covered them and wrote
letters to the five doctors to enclose with them. I was so excited. At last
we could get down to work and help this nation.
I knew I was getting help in writing the letters for certain words or ideas
kept coming up in my consciousness and I used them in the letters. The word
“trepidation” kept coming up and I looked up that one and used
it in the surgeon’s letter. “It is with much trepidation that
I give you this for I know it will change your life.” Well, that was
I suppose I was fairly sure it was Duverus for Bab had begun to write The
Healing of the Nation before he died. We were also using understandings from
The Golden Reed and about homosexuality, but He never said.
I had two post op appointments with the other surgeon who did the hernia repair.
At the first appointment, I did not see the surgeon, but the nurse checked
my surgery and that was it. At the second post op that was after the first
post op with the gynecological surgeon, I did have to “drop my drawers”
so that the surgeon could check the inguinal hernia repair. He was so friendly.
He thought I looked good, seemed happy with my recovery and after talking
with him a bit, he thought I needed a prescription for iron and he gave that
to me. It did help. I had been taking a vegetable iron and it had not been
doing the job. However, I did not take the dosage he gave me, but used it
carefully for it could be constipating. I was amazed that he was so friendly
and somewhat caring. I even wrote him a thank you note.
My appointment with the gynecological surgeon for the last post op was 3 o’clock
on a Wednesday afternoon. I was still making love to this surgeon in my mind.
On the way there Duverus told me, “No sex. No sex.” I thought
I was losing my mind. Here I was obsessed with the doctor for some unknown
reason, and He was telling me, “No sex.” I managed to turn it
off. He is such a jokester!
I waited for a while in the waiting room and then waited in the examination
room for about an hour. I thought the surgeon was probably delivering a baby.
Besides a copy of The Healing, I had also made a button for the doctor that
said, “God gave you a brain. Use it.” I used that in the original
dedication of The Healing, “I dedicate this to the good doctor whose
advice, ‘God gave you a brain. Use it,’ annoyed me, until I decided
to try it.” He finally came in and sat down at his desk. I was on the
examination table, halfway covered up. I do not know if he saw the button
that I had pinned to my collar. He seemed quiet. He looked about 20 years
old. He may have been five feet tall and his arms looked very short. I thought,
is this the man that did my surgery? I still did not realize that he has looked
different every time that I saw him. I gave him the button, and he put it
on his white hospital coat, and returned to his desk. I felt he wanted to
say something, but did not. He began to make plans for my next visit. I said
five years. Six months, he said. I said, ten years. He said we will make it
for 1 year. We finally started the examination when his nurse came in. While
up in the stirrups with my legs spread wide, I asked him if he knew the other
surgeon well. There was a brief pause and a falter and he said, yes, why?
I told him that the other surgeon was very cold to me the first meeting before
the surgery. In fact, I said, I do not think he said ten words to me, and
six of those were “cough.” But, at my last post op with him, he
was very friendly. I did not remember the surgeon or his nurse saying anything.
The exam was over. Duverus played another naughty trick on the surgeon that
I did not realize until later. I gave him the enveloped copy of The Healing
of the Nation with the letter. We shook hands as he left. I thanked the surgeon
for giving my life back to me.
On Friday, I delivered The Healing of the Nation to our family physician,
the anesthesiologist at surgery and the other doctor who had recommended the
surgeon who was a Boy Scout leader and had given me the same spiel on women
and hormones. The fifth copy I gave to the surgeon a week later to give to
the hematologist. I never heard back.
That weekend on April 1, Duverus manifested in my husband and we had a wild,
wild weekend. My husband led me on an erotic sex journey with the five doctors,
which he knew later to be inspired by Duverus. I also “birthed”
my husband. It was just part of the scenario in which Duverus called me the
Mother of Humanity that was symbolic of Duverus working through me to birth
the Manchild. On the following Tuesday, Duverus manifested in my husband at
work; he is literally let go of his job on the spot. Duverus told my husband
that we are to leave everything behind, our house and most of our possessions
and go to live with friends in a cabin in the forest in the next state. We
are to give up the house and sell our things at an auction. We also ended
up giving one car away to a woman who needed it more than we needed the car
or the money for the car. We had no money. We had just paid the hospital everything
we had to take advantage of a 20% discount. Duverus said to trust.
On the way to the cabin, my husband told me that Duverus told him that I was
being prepared to go be with the surgeon, and that he was then going to serve
Duverus. I was surprised at this and upset about being separated from my husband,
but I had been fantasizing for a month over this surgeon, so it all seemed
to fit. At least in the state my mind was in, it did.
Once in the cabin I began to write the strangest of letters to the surgeon.
“Greetings, My Beloved.” I asked Duverus, “Do I really write
this?” He told me to trust. He told me it would be fine. I did. I wrote
the surgeon a number of letters in a month and a half’s time. They were
sexy, funny, and naughty. I sent him six copies each of The Golden Reed and
The Path of Peace, one for each of the other doctors and one for his “partner”
whose identity I never knew. I sent other books of understanding on nutrition,
and Satanism, and told stories and wrote about the silliest experiences Duverus
gave to me. I was in the middle of a scenario, a virtual reality experience,
physical, mental and emotional through the Mind of Duverus, and I did not
know it. My life was one erotic, love-making session. If it wasn’t with
the surgeon or some other doctor or man, it was with every imaginable being
in the universe. Later I was to think that He had me doing this because I
was under attack. Bab had always told us that when we were attacked psychically,
to think of love or sex or something very painful. Satan did not like the
pain, nor could he stand the love, and the attack would have no power over
I had Bab in my head as well as Duverus, sometimes even a goddess, and I also
had the surgeon’s spirit whom I birthed in some experience that Duverus
gave me, which was not unlike the birthing session with my husband on April
1. I was supposedly the representative of the negative red segment of our
planet that is our moon, Diana, and the surgeon’s spirit was the representative
of the positive red segment which is Eros and is at the south pole. The Song
of Solomon is all about this love affair, or so Bab wrote about in one of
his editorials. Duverus gave me Divine Wholly Genetics in a rather strong
part of the scenario and told me I was to give it to 1000 men so that they
would also hear Him and Bab and with these 1000 men we would bring the moon
back and make the Earth whole again. He told me I had to couple sexually with
these men to give them this Divine Wholly Genetics. It was like a sexually
transmitted disease, except it was a cure. It would hook up their DNA strand
by gradual cellular mitosis that Duverus unhooked when we tried to make war
with Him at the time of the Tower of Babel. “Spread your legs wide”
took on another dimension. I faced a lot of fear thinking I had to couple
with 1000 men I did not know. I had 3 1/2 years to do this. I kept thinking
this was going to change and that Duverus wouldn’t make it so, but He
never did. I tried to get use to the idea, even thought about how to get it
done in one year; that was just my nature to get the job done and out of the
way of my life. Duverus must be able to touch some part of the brain that
disconnects you from your sense of reality.
Duverus had told me in the scenario that the surgeon would name me, a name
from out of time, like a reincarnation except we call it concatenation because
time is all One. My favorite character from fiction/history had been St. Luke
as depicted by Taylor Caldwell in the story Dear and Glorious Physician. In
one of the letters Duverus let it be “known” that the surgeon
was St. Luke, and that the surgeon’s spirit named me rightly as Mary
Magdalene. It was funny at the time because she has been written to be a prostitute
before she met Immanuel, and I had thought I had to be the same giving 1000
men Divine Holy Genetics.
Bab had told us that the Christ had named her Mer y Mazda Lena, which meant
“Mother to the Pillar of Light.” She was certainly not His physical
mother but she is thought to have been His Beloved, and that she became an
apostle and passed the knowledge He shared with others, both in that concatenation
as well as in others. That was her pattern. In this way she was able to help
bring in the Manchild as He is born and begins to Rule with an Iron Scepter.
My husband’s first scenario was about being the Manchild, and he seemed
like a child for so long. The Manchild, is the beginning of the reign of our
God, Immanuel the Christ, and is Freedom from Satan’s chains. Once we
arrived at the forest, my husband went through another scenario where he was
Satan and he was going to be destroyed forever if he did not accept his punishment
for having caused the chaos and destruction on the Earth. Even our friends
supported us in his scenario, his best buddy having a dream where he said,
“and Satan is my brother.” My husband also had dreams before all
this started about being responsible for the evil on this planet. Oh, how
real Duverus made all of this for us! My husband had Bab and Duverus and God
in his body and mind and we listened to him talk and he sounded just like
Bab did when I first met him. It was so real!
I mailed and hand delivered a number of letters and books to the surgeon.
The trip was an hour away, but I usually had errands to run, or we came in
as a family to do something. I do not remember in detail hardly anything of
what I wrote, but I shared stories and dreams and experiences that Duverus
gave me, some very erotic, but loving and silly at the same time. I have no
idea how the surgeon was taking all of this, as I had no communication from
him. My friends and husband read the letters and they thought they were loving
and sexy. They gave me an honorary doctorate in sexuality. Actually, it belonged
One day Duverus added a new twist to the scenario and all of the sudden I
had an incontinence problem that displayed itself during sex. At first the
problem seemed very troublesome indeed, for when I sneezed or coughed heavily,
or waited too long, I would leak. I was so distressed, but those conditions
cleared up and it was just the problem during sex. I did not relate this problem
to the catheter at surgery at first, because I did not have it at first. Duverus
told me later He took it away for a while so that He could start the scenario.
He knew I would be distressed.
About a month into the scenario, my husband and I wrote what we called the
“Pillow Letters.” A pillow is something you lay your head on to
rest, an object of comfort, and these letters were for the surgeon upon which
to lay his head. They were about our scenarios, my husband’s and mine.
This was the first time I had told the surgeon about Divine Wholly Genetics
and that I thought I had to couple with 1000 men. I was very serious for I
still thought it was a reality. The stuffing for the pillow letters was a
picture of Bab. This is all symbolic. Our experiences, coupled with the understanding
given through Bab by Delamer Duverus, is the pillow that we give to all the
men and women who seek understanding.
Speaking of experiences, Duverus created some very incredible ones for us.
I still marvel at who He is. In the forest we lived in a cabin at the end
of a two-mile, single-lane, dead-end, dirt road. Each evening we walked about
3/4 of a mile and then turned around and came back. For over a week this flying,
buzzing bug followed us, zipping between us and around us and would even sometimes
dive bomb me, scaring me. It was so uncanny because it happened each night.
Finally I asked Duverus if this was Him. He said, “I’m bugging
the bugs.” My impression was that even though we are infinitesimally
small in the scheme of things, He loves each of us so much and will bug us
One morning I arose early and began to make love to doctors in my mind. Some
I knew and some I did not know. I just loved them for all I was worth and,
being in that state between waking and dreams, it all seemed so real. When
I arose and went into the living area of the cabin, my family rushed up to
great me so lovingly. My husband said I glowed. Scenario? Anyway, outside
on the small lawn by the cedars was a pack of five dogs, only one of which
I had seen before. I was enchanted and knew they had come to see me, and I
went out to greet them. Their greetings were ones of growls and threatening
barks. I called to them, but they ran down the road. Duverus said they wanted
to walk with me, but I was to first fix breakfast for the family. Forty-five
minutes later I donned my shoes and started down the road. As I made it over
the rise I saw all but one of the dogs asleep in the road. When the alert
dog saw me, he sounded the alarm and they all rose to come at me with their
growling and snapping. I remembered the love that I was a part of earlier
that morning, and recaptured that in my heart and loved them and walked toward
them with the palms of my hands open to them. I told them I wanted to walk
with them. They turned and fled down the road. While I was headed their way,
Duverus told me that Tyreans sometimes secret themselves in dogs. Tyreans
are the virus that has been attacking our planet, the antithesis of God, in
the sense they only destroy the body.
Around the bend the dogs were waiting for me. When they saw me they again
came at me barking and growling and I loved them again. They turned and fled
down the road a little farther. This happened several times until I got to
the small spring that runs across the road and the dogs split up and all went
their separate ways. One dog went up the hill to the right, passed through
a red fence and gate, turned around and sat down and faced me. I watched him
and our minds connected. I told him that I loved him and nothing would take
that love away. I told him that we always, always have a choice. Duverus told
me to undress in front of that dog and I did. I then turned my back on him
and walked down the road back to the cabin, enjoying the freedom of my nakedness
in the cool morning breeze.
I wrote two more letters, sort of winding down, and then one morning I woke
up to this wild experience. All along in the scenario I was visited by the
surgeon’s spirit. He always played tricks on me. The surgeon and the
surgeon’s spirit were not one, in the sense that the surgeon had not
woken up to his real self as yet. His spirit would always sigh with patience
about his person. Anyway, I woke up and my body did this shaking thing, from
head to toe. The surgeon’s spirit came into my body with me. It was
wild. We made love, and do not ask how Duverus did that or what I experienced
for I am not going to tell you, but it felt as real as a real coupling. We
got up and we went right to making quiche for a breakfast party with friends.
I had help in my body rolling out the dough. My arms were so much stronger!
We made those quiche in record time, all three different, and popped them
into the oven. We showered and I had hands, my hands, but not controlled by
me, all over my body. It was so funny.
We were fairly subdued at the breakfast party, but afterwards we took several
walks together, we danced to Irish music on my favorite CD, the surgeon’s
spirit dancing new steps that I had never done before, we laughed and made
jokes, played games with the family and he told me of some hurts he had in
his life that needed healing. I do not believe they were accurate, but most
of us have those hurts, and I had hoped his were being healed, as were ours.
I had trouble walking all day because of his height, being only about 5’5”
tall. That shows you how tight Duverus had my mind. Why would a spirit have
a height? Anyway, before bed we made love again and then went to sleep.
In the morning, the surgeon’s spirit woke me up to tell me to come to
his office with the clothes and things I will need for a few days; I will
be staying with his person. My husband was still in scenario and he does not
seem to mind. He is free from possessiveness anyway. Duverus also told me
we would not be coupling with all these men physically. We would be loving
them all by mind.
We arrived in the mid afternoon and I went in with my satchel of stuff. My
husband decided to wait until he made sure I was really doing this thing.
That was good. I had written a letter that morning telling the surgeon of
the wonderful day his spirit and I had together. I told him about our talk
and about his hurts. I even forgave him for calling me a “crazy bitch”
because sometimes he said it with so much love. I told him I get to love the
men by mind and that I still have his spirit and asked him what he was going
to do about it. When I arrived at the surgeon’s office I was told he
was delivering a baby and could not come. I just knew to leave the letter
and go, but also left a hand-written note telling him that I had brought my
overnight stuff as his spirit had told me to do. No problem. I was still in
scenario. Heavens to think what would have happened if he had come to meet
That afternoon, or maybe the next, I was in terrible pain. It was not a normal
pain; it was a sexual pain. I did not understand at first. Bab had told us
to think about love and the pain of sex if we were under attack, and for a
long time I thought Duverus was giving me this pain to help ward off an attack.
This attack began in the early afternoon and lasted until the early morning,
and it was consuming. I understand now that that sexual pain was the attack.
I could not sleep. Duverus told me that the scenario was an illusion, the
day with the surgeon’s spirit, all of it. It got to be a very confusing,
especially because I was tired and had been confronted with the pain since
early afternoon. Finally, Duverus told me I could end it all if I used telepathy
and contacted the surgeon in my mind and loved him. Love was the greatest
defense. This I did and the pain went away. I finally slept an hour or two.
When I awoke I had to write another letter to the surgeon and we were to deliver
that one ourselves, my husband and I. I wrote about the attack and likened
it to why some tribes/peoples cut the female sex organs from their bodies,
and I wrote the story of the dogs within which the Tyreans had secreted themselves.
Duverus had guided me in writing this letter. We went later in the day to
deliver the letter and we met with the surgeon in person. He looked so different.
He was taller, at least 5’10” or more, and older and said in a
voice that I had never heard before, that the letters were entirely inappropriate
and that he wanted an end to them. I told him that I only did what Duverus
asked. I gave him the letter. He said he was writing one to me. My husband
was with me and I remember they shook hands. We left. On the elevator was
another woman and she said that the receptionist was giving her the most hateful
stare. I knew that was for us. I have no idea what transpired with the surgeon
after we left. This was a Thursday.
We went to town on a Friday and I mailed the surgeon a picture our young son
had drawn with a prayer and a short note I had written. I was under His mind
and had disregarded the surgeon’s request completely. On Saturday we
received a notice for registered mail, but it was too late to collect it in
town. The Post Office was closed and we had to wait for Monday. Sunday morning
at 3:30 a.m. Duverus woke me up and told us to get ready to go to Atlanta
to see my mother. She was dying of cancer for she had called earlier with
the news. I prepared another letter for the surgeon, and three boxes, one
each of The Golden Reed and The Path of Peace and one of Delamer Duverus writings
and personal items that I was guided to include. I put in a piece of petrified
poop that belonged to Bab, a book called Contact with the Pleiades that Billy
Meier wrote about his contact with Duverus and their manifestation as Pleiadian
beamships or UFOs, a folder with all the letters I had written him and the
other doctors, and several not-so-good first weavings I had done. There was
so much love put into that box and letters. We delivered the boxes to the
surgeon at the hospital where he worked as we left the area
We were finally ready to go about 2 o’clock in the afternoon. Our friends
said they would forward the registered letter. We had a wild trip with Duverus
in our heads and the surgeon’s spirit riding shotgun with me. We arrived
Monday early in the afternoon to my mother’s surprise. She did not know
we were coming, and I did not want her to know for she would have prepared
for our arrival even though she was not well enough to do so. She thought
it was great we were there. The rest of the family had come and gone on the
weekend. I went out to shop for dinner, and the surgeon’s spirit was
still with me, guiding me. It is Duverus, but I did not have a clue. My husband
saw the surgeon’s face in mine from time to time. Before dinner, I felt
the energy of a manifestation and I knew my mother saw the Presence of Duverus
and she cried. I thought it was the surgeon she saw, but later I knew better.
My brother came over and was very angry because we had come without telling
anyone. I told him that Duverus had brought us but he did not believe in this
Our friends called from where we were living to tell us that they forwarded
the letter that was from the surgeon and that he called and stressed very
strongly that he did not want any more information.
We stayed for two nights and then the next day we got ready to leave. I cleaned
house, washed and remade all the beds, and left the house as if no one had
come. There were about six home-cooked meals in the freezer. No one had time
to cook for our mother and they stocked her freezer with frozen TV dinner-type
meals. My husband fixed the leaking refrigerator. Duverus told us it was time
to go and that we were not wanted, at least by my siblings. They had made
their plans without consulting me.
We left and spent a day in Chattanooga, Tennessee and took the children to
Rock City. We also visited a war site where we had dinner and I found that
every time I went to read something about war, nothing came out of my mouth.
I could not speak war. It was another of Duverus’ jokes. I wish He would
use it on Congress and the President.
Just a few minutes before we left my mother’s house the mailwoman came
to the door with the registered letter. I signed for it and put it in my purse.
While at Chattanooga, I opened it to read the most intense letter I have ever
read. In response to the naughty letter about our day together and coming
to his office with my overnight satchel, he told me he was married and had
a child and would never break his Sacred Vows. I was released as a patient.
I was also told not to mail or deliver any more information and that the front
desk would no longer take it. I was shocked. Duverus’ comment was, “Shit
happens.” I did not know the surgeon was married. though I assumed he
was, but Duverus alluded to the fact that he wasn’t. My mind and what
I was doing was not of my intent.
Anyway, when we arrived home, I called the surgeon’s office to talk
to him as our friend had said he wanted me to do. He would not take the call.
Almost immediately we began to write letters to the surgeon again, despite
his letter and phone call to the contrary. They were loving, funny letters,
though some were serious. I wrote about my incontinence and asked him questions
about it being caused by the catheter. In some ways I had my mind back and
in some ways I did not.
At some point I called the surgeon’s office manager asking her to ask
him that if he did not want the boxes of books and writings and things, to
please return them. There was never any response.
I also began to improve The Healing and started researching. I was not allowed
to go to the university to research so I used the Internet. I added more of
my experiences and understanding. Besides the letters to the surgeon including
my husband’s “pillow” letter, the only other items that
we had mailed were articles written by my husband, one on “Val Thor,”
about another angel who dealt with the military and helped a man my husband
knew, and one called “Identification.” No one ever wrote back
and these were sent to others besides doctors.
Sometime in late June, Duverus took me on another kind of journey. He began
running scenarios in my mind. I was not allowed to eat much, nor sleep much,
and these scenarios were very contradictory to what I knew or thought to be
true. The first one lasted a whole day and was about the surgeon. He made
it so true, but it was so horrible it could not be true. I had others with
the other doctors. Some of the scenarios were funny; some included the children,
some my husband. Some were hilarious now that I look back. However, I could
hardly solve them or keep a hold of what was true, what was real. On the third
night Duverus provided a most horrible experience that I wrote about in the
Moloch letter. I was most embarrassed over that. On the fourth day, amidst
the jumble of contradictory and stressful events, Duverus slipped in the information
of what my father said and did to me that closed me down as a child. I think
that was the main reason for the four days and nights of hell.
When our friends returned from their month stay away, in their mail that was
held were all the letters that I had sent the surgeon that he had refused
and returned to sender. I was upset for I thought we were losing our chance
to heal this nation. That is who this surgeon was to me, who his spirit was,
someone that wanted to help God and Duverus turn this nation around. I still
did not understand.
In July, Duverus told me that these five doctors were selling illegal drugs.
I could not believe Him. I cried. I could not believe it of these men. He
said it was true and had me think back to any indication that it was true.
Well, I could get nothing from the surgeon because I never saw him the same
way twice and Duverus told me I never saw a true expression. I may have heard
one, but coupled with not seeing clearly, who knows if my perception was clear.
Theone doctor at the Boy Scout troop faltered when I asked him about the surgeon,
if he was a good surgeon. I thought that he drew within and faltered because
he knew something that he was afraid to tell. This doctor also went to drug
seminars all the time. It was also telling that not one of these men wrote
back to express an opinion and the surgeon did not contact his lawyer to stop
me legally from sending the letters.
At the end of July, I wrote a second letter to the five original doctors and
included an updated Healing in which I delved more into the psychic attacks
that I had experienced in my life. We challenged them to be men of God. We
never heard back.
At the end of August, I wrote the Moloch letter and even mailed it to the
doctor who had moved out of town, the Boy Scout leader. Someone said it was
a voice crying in the wilderness. Obviously, no one responded.
We began to mail The Healings out to other doctors and a few pastors the first
In early November, we wrote to one of the original doctors asking to have
the Duverus writings that I had given to the surgeon copied for me. I did
not have any other writings and I missed them sorely. There was no response.
In mid-November, Duverus had me write about the healings I had had at His
hand and I sent copies of that paper to nine physicians asking them if we
should include this in The Healing of the Nation. There was no response. Five
new physicians were added to the list of the original four still in town.
I had been to everyone of the physicians except for one, but I had run into
him several times. The hernia surgeon was on this list.
Duverus then wrote the surgeon a very strong letter. I did not understand
why Duverus said the things He did. He alluded to the understanding that others
tried to harm me and told the surgeon He would not deceive me any longer on
the state of their minds and of their actions.
We included with this letter a special edition of The Healing. In it we had
written about Aleksei Romanoff, the heir to the Russian throne, who was never
killed but taken with his family to Poland. I had talked to Aleksei several
times and we published his White Book that had evidence that proved who he
was. He had to prove himself so that he could claim the gold salvaged by the
Japanese from sunk Russian ships. He wanted to break the bankers who had planned
and executed the Russian Revolution to destroy Russia.
On the 20th of November, Duverus gave me the function of Atonga. I really
preferred to be called a secretary.
In late November, we wrote loving letters to the four physicians that included
the surgeon. Duverus had me cast an I Ching for each of them and I was allowed
to write a bit and include a joke. At this same time the surgeon wrote me
another letter asking me to desist from writing to him. He said he had been
forwarding the letters to his attorney. His letter had been written on the
20th, but had not been posted until the 27th. When he received other letters
from us he called. He seemed friendly and I told him when I had received his
letter and had not sent him another.
I had already written another letter to go, which I call the “Scenario
Letter”, but I did not mail that to him, but only to the others. That
is when our family physician wrote and released my family as patients, and
asked me not to send any more information for the “Friendly Peace and
Enlightenment Program.” He borrowed that phrase from the surgeon.
It was the following Friday that I was being attacked psychically and we wrote
the “Waste Material” letter. Duverus protected me from most of
it. Duverus could stop the effects of an attack, just as written in King David’s
Psalm 91. We also sent that letter and a small packet of all the correspondence
we had sent from the beginning to a number of men, some doctors, some not.
One went to a lawyer.
In December, Duverus wrote a very stern letter to the superintendent of schools
where we had lived and laid down the law about serving God. He included the
Moloch letter and The Healing and had a copy of the letters sent to the mayor
and the surgeon who had done my hernia repair. He did the same thing to the
superintendent of a nearby town, with a copy going to that mayor and the surgeon.
Sometime in mid-December, we received an inheritance from my mother’s
estate. She had died in July. I gave all of it to Duverus. He paid my hospital
bills and our outstanding debts.
In mid-December, my husband and I started running new scenarios. Duverus warned
us of this before hand in a dream my husband had, but you cannot do anything
to get out of it. It was another week of hell in which I thought I was going
to lose the children. I am not sure what my husband thought, perhaps of losing
me. Our oldest son had to go to the hospital for a lung infection and instead
of taking him to the nearest one we went back to where all these doctors were
and admitted him there. We got to embarrass ourselves in front of everyone
in the emergency room as I struggled with my husband to tell the emergency
room staff to check for endamoeba histolytica that he was intentionally given
as a baby. That could also cause lung problems. They had to know that the
“Angel Lady” was a clown, because my husband was playing the straight
man. Anyway, our son was admitted to the hospital, but we just practically
left him there without talking to the physicians, and my husband dragged me
home screaming and kicking. While he was there in the hospital, we had a flood
through our cabin. At that time I also delivered a message to the surgeon
at 2:30 in the morning. It said, “The Angel Duverus says you are healed.”
What with the scenarios in my head going full strength to confuse me, the
cabin turned upside down, my brother calling and speaking complete gibberish
because Duverus was altering what he said in my mind, they finally decided
I need psychiatric care. After our son came home, I was admitted to the psychiatric
ward of the hospital. I had to see two psychiatrists of a local guidance center
to get there. Once at the psyche ward, the confusion left. I was still a bit
rattled, although I thought it was funny I was in this place for one who hears
a voice in her head, but I was actually glad for a dry place to lay down.
Duverus told me to see what I could learn. I learned that most of the children
there coming down off of drugs had terrible diets, junk food diets, that were
depleting them of the necessary nutrients to keep them from seeking a replacement
in alcohol and drugs. When the dietician came to talk to me about my diet,
Duverus told her through me that the man I was talking to needed two rare
steaks with fat a week and a B-12 supplement. His body was starved for protein,
fat and choline. Choline and B-12 are important in the formation of acetylcholine,
which is the alcohol that jumps the gaps in the nerve cells. This is what
the youth are craving when they crave alcohol and drugs.
That night I went to bed and after a few minutes the psyche nurse came in
to give me a second pillow. I thanked him, but as I sat there thinking about
why he did that I realized that he did not know that I used a second pillow
against my shoulder where I had pulled the rotator cuff. I arose and went
to ask him why he had brought me the pillow. He did not have a clue. Duverus
showed me again what He could do.
Thankfully, I was able to come home the next day. Unfortunately, I saw too
much and was saddened that the children coming down off of drugs and whatever
had access to all the sweet drinks and ice cream that they wanted. It was
not serving them. I wrote to the doctor who admitted me and told him the whole
It was soon after this that we left the forest and the cabin and moved back
into town. In January, Duverus gave the school board His agenda for the children.
We also gave them our books. I stood up at the beginning of the school board
meeting and told them what had happened in Georgia and what the “Narc
Angel” had done in Arkansas.
My husband ordered a book for me off the Internet called The Prophet of Tabuse
and gave it to me as a gift. It was about a Japanese woman who had “God
in her body” and she came to help the demoralized people of Japan after
WWII. She was also an Atonga. She told them how to “polish their soul”
and to serve God properly. This book taught and supported me on my journey.
The rest of the winter and spring were spent sending letters and our books
to doctors, dentists, pastors, and others. Some I hand delivered and some
I mailed according to Duverus. The dentists received the packet of books and
information and then He wrote them another letter and gave them a directive,
which was to stop putting mercury as amalgams in the teeth of the people.
We also gave four copies of Dr. Weston Price’s book, Nutrition and Physical
Degeneration, away to doctors and dentists.
Our friend, who we had sent copies years ago of most all of the editorials,
sent us his copies for safekeeping. I was so happy to have those writings
and more back to share with others.
Right before we left the area we addressed a number of lawyers to ask for
understanding on Maritime Law and the Constitution. We also did another mailing
to doctors and others to whom we had addressed previously. We were also writing
the surgeon again despite his letter.
Also at this time, Duverus had us buy an old travel trailer and we stayed
out at the lake for a week as the storm of the dentist letter blew over. There
was much pressure from this, but no attacks.
We put all of our stuff into storage, the basic necessities of life that Duverus
had us repurchase for ourselves because we had nothing, and moved into the
trailer. We were going traveling. My husband had bought a truck and repaired
it and when we were all set we took off for Oklahoma, New Mexico, Arizona,
California, Nevada and Utah. We saw God’s wondrous sites, this beautiful
Earth He created for us. We also sent postcards and letters to the men in
the area we had left behind. We mailed or delivered packets to doctors in
towns along the way.
Duverus sat us down in Salt Lake City, our youngest son and I, and my husband
and our older son went on their own adventure, camping and hiking, and then
retrieved our stuff from Arkansas and brought it to where we live now.
While in Salt Lake City I continued to write letters back to Arkansas and
also addressed physicians in Salt Lake and several pastors, including the
President of the Latter-Day Saints Church. Towards the end of our stay in
Salt Lake, Duverus had me send my personal journal to the surgeon through
the physician who was our family doctor. I never received it back, nor do
I know if anyone opened it. It was embarrassing to have had to share it, but
there must have been Reason in this. Duverus never does anything without Reason,
nor I out of vanity. My entire life has been an open book anyway.
He had us move to a more permanent location, sell our travel trailer, and
again we are addressing the doctors, the dentists, the lawyers, the educators
and public servants with the information and understandings of our books so
that they will know the truth and can begin to serve God correctly. We have
had other psychic attacks, even one with the sexual pain, but this was also
thwarted by Duverus after a while so that I would know of its existence. I
do not know how they do this, nor do I want to know, though it would be interesting
to know who has this knowledge, but I understand the reason why these tribes
cut the female sex organs from their bodies. Black-hearted ones would attack,
and having no defense, and thinking they were prossessed by an evil god, the
women would cut it out. These dark-hearted ones hated the empathy of the women
and sought to destroy them. Unfortunately, it became a practice, because the
understanding of the cause was never sought.
Our life has changed considerably with Duverus to guide us. We live without
a television and cannot hardly watch one at all now. We have never liked the
radio. We do use a computer and get our news from the Internet when Duverus
lets us get the news, in the interest of saving trees. We threw away our photo
albums and will not support yearbooks for the waste involved, for the pollution
caused by the photographic process and because it is not who we are that is
important, but what we do in service to God that is important. It is our function
that is important. We have never used charcoal to grill outdoors except for
camping and now this we cannot do either. It is a waste of trees. We no longer
celebrate Christmas (Commerce Day) or Easter (another Commerce Day) and most
of the rest of the holidays because they have become just that, Commerce Days.
How could we ever celebrate the Fourth of July in its true meaning when we
have just about lost all that it represented. Thanksgiving is about the only
holiday we truly like, because we have so much for which to be thankful. It
has always been our favorite.
We live very simply, with just our needs, and a hobby each. He provides for
all our needs, knowing them much better than we do ourselves. Our family spends
a lot of time together doing things, eating almost all our meals together,
because the children do not get involved in myriad activties at school, etc.
He guides us in the jobs we have to do, such as food preparation and assorted
health challenges for our family, and with my husband when he needs help with
a problem in maintenance. Just recently He asked us to give up the alarm clock.
I winced and then I laughed at myself. It is easy to trust Him with our lives,
but not with having to get up in the morning! We humans are so funny.
Each day is a new day and each day I have to Trust in what Duverus has me
do. I still have “God in my body,” which is God in my mind that
controls me empathetically if He needs to do so. I still have an incontinence
problem and from time to time Duverus shows me how bad it really is. He thinks
with me rather than for me. He writes and speaks through me according to His
will and in front of people it is usually to embarrass me, but sometimes it
is to teach or to “bug” others. Duverus plays His jokes, but not
jokes, and one can see why people of long ago and in their myths called the
Gods crazy. Sometimes it all frightens me a bit because I cannot see what
the outcome will be of what I do for Him, but I always remember the children
who are suffering throughout the nation and the world and that we could stop
it if we came together in God’s Love to do so. I have seen the fruits
of Him. All it takes is understanding and the alignment of our wills with
More importantly, Duverus is always there, as we are ready and needful, to
give us the understandings that free us from the binds of Mammon. In Luke
12:2 Immanuel, the Christ, tells us, “For there is nothing covered,
that shall not be revealed; neither hid, that shall not be known.” We
have been enslaved for so long, and He has come to make good His promise.
It was Duverus who gave me the understanding about the sexual pain and why
the practice of mutilation was acquired. This practice needs to stop. The
flow of love and sex and the orgasm are important to the human experience.
It was Duverus who finally helped me as I struggled to understand that the
Christ never died on the cross, but spoke out, “Eli, Eli, lama sabacthani”
and that it was Coptic for, “Hold, Hold, the hour of the Sabbath.”
The rotation of the Earth was speeded up and He was taken down before He died,
His knees left unbroken, for the three could not be left up on the crosses
after the Sabbath had begun. He had followed the will of His Father in Heaven
and trusted. He gave us the pattern to follow. He purged us of our sins, but
that will only happen when we follow His pattern and become One with Him in
Bab had told us that Duverus would ground the air traffic one day. I did not
know the physics of how this could be done. One morning early, Duverus put
the statement from Malachi, “But for the elect’s sake, the days
will be shortened,” next to the events at the time of the crucifixion
and then I understood. He will speed up the rotation of the Earth so that
the gravitational pull of the Earth will be increased. Planes, missiles, weapons
of destructions, bullets, and our buildings will come tumbling down. Even
the Mormon Bible in 3 Nephi 8 speaks about the destruction wreaked at that
time of the crucifixion. If we chose to make war, He can certainly stop it
with His Mind. We hope it does not happen in the winter.
Duverus also corrected my interpretation of the dream I had about the bombs
going off on American soil and the Statue of Liberty as a UFO breaking up
overhead. He led me to information that the Statue of Liberty is a symbol
of the Masonic Order, of things hidden and of secrets and conspiracies. The
Statue of Liberty did not represent our freedoms as I thought, but that He
has come to break apart and expose the hidden things, so that we would know.
He has already exposed that it is the ones in high places that are selling
illegal drugs that the children end up using. Many of them were physicians.
There are many understandings that He has not given, but I know when I am
ready and in His time, they will be given. The attack that transpired for
which I wrote the “waste material” letter was called a “crucifix
hammer.” I am sure I did not feel the extent of it. What is it and who
was responsible for it?
Duverus brings us books of understanding, people who have a truth, dreams
to help guide us, and strengthens us with balanced opposition. He has led
us into situations showing us the truth. My husband works with people twenty
years younger than he, who all have considerable health problems because they
have not been taught about diet and they seek refuge in the drugs and in the
medical establishment that is literally a dead end.
Some lessons are painful, but as we grow in His Light and Truth, they become
easier, and funnier and we learn that this is what life is about, growing
up and making mistakes, which are never mistakes, just learning, unless we
are rebellious and refuse to learn.
At one time I thought that Bab died because we had to grow up on our own and
that we couldn’t do it with him and Duverus through him in our lives.
What a misunderstanding that was! We have grown ever so much more since He
has come back into our lives. Then I remembered how much I grew that year
I was with Bab before he died. Then is when I realized the import of Delamer
Duverus’ definition of a Christian. “Those that know that to live
well they need help from above.” This is a great truth, for how can
we know what to do when are world is so huge and our problems are so many?
When Duverus first asked me to write this He told me I was going to write
the first book of the new Bible. I laughed, “Who would ever believe
this story?” He smiled and asked me, “Is it true?” I said,
“Of course, it is true.” Chronologically, there may be an error
or two in the days at the hospital because I was fogged over from the chemicals
at surgery, but it all happened. “Then why can’t it be a book
of the new Bible? It has all the ingredients of a Bible story. A person gains
favor in the eyes of the Lord because she has sought truth and understanding
and has worked on herself and has aligned her will to His. The Lord comes
to her and has her leave everything behind, all personal wealth, and tells
her to tell her people to separate themselves from Mammon, which she does.
Then He brings her and her family back to help the people. Her belongings
have been restored because she trusted and found refuge in the Almighty. Seems
like a good Bible story to me.” “This is another one of your jokes,
Duverus,“ I said.
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