He's smarter than any child or man on earth. He wields more Power, too. When He speaks, I fall to my knees. "Caribou!" he commands, and I am His beast of burden, for as long as He wants.
The day he was born, more photos were taken of him than any child ever born. He was anticipated long before he was conceived. Millions have prayed for His return. There is no place in the city that he can go without people calling out his name. Most want to touch Him. Though born at home, by candle light, he appears completely normal. He hasn't been sick, except when his grandmother was watering down the soap, an old habit, to save money. That was fixed, real fast, and forever.
She was painfully poor when I met her daughter. Last night she fed a crowd.
The two were so poor that they each ate just one meal a day. Rice and water, mainly. Each day, her mother, a widow, would make a large pot of soup and then sell it on the highway, in paper cups, to people passing by. This one-stool business of hers reaped about 100 pesos a day. (about $2.00 American) She gave 50 pesos a day to her daughter, and let her go downtown to chat on the Internet at the Cafes. In the Philippines, that's how poor Provincial girls claw their way out of poverty.
I fell in love with my wife the moment I read her bio sentence. Just one line. It still makes me wet-cheeked, and go kiss her, even now, four years later, as she sleeps. It read:
I am seeking someone wd a golden heart to be love,cherish & respect for a life tim
Those were her exact words, no changes made by me. And while other girls' biographies were long and carefully sculpted, being changed over and over, from day to day...hers was so simple, so in synch with my heartbeat, that I loved her before looking again at her picture. She stood, barefoot, in the shallow water of her shoreline, with pigtails and a very cheap shirt and short pants. Many girls at Filipina Heart uploaded studio portraits, after spending a full day having their hair, nails and face made up just so. Not my girl.
I've tried those trophy wives. They're good for nothing but heartache. They can drill into debt faster than a Marxist. Their eyes are ever-detecting who is in the room, and whether they are the one with all the attention.
Maria just stood there in all her simple splendor, and stole my heart, before I knew her name. She lied about her height and weight. Said she was 4' 11" and weighed 88 pounds. (She's actually 4' 6" and weighs 78 pounds) She lied because when she told the truth, no man would have her. Not for 8 long months of daily truth-telling! Imagine spending 50-pesos a day for eight months, and having no man interested, just because you were small. What does that do to a human heart?
Remember, her mother sat in sun and wind and rain for about 5 hours for those 50-pesos.
Her mother didn't merely earn the funds to sustain her quest, she also started a Prayer Circle in their hut, and once a week, four devout friends would come, read the scriptures together and then pray, one by one, that Maria would find a man whose heart would be touched by God. I kid you not. This is the real story. I feel like a Star. What did I ever do to deserve this?
The prayers and her lies worked. (Reminds me of a true church...)
I loved her the moment I saw her, read her bio and prayed that she was still available when I clicked the "Interested" button. Four days later, I was online at the Salt Lake City Library, and she popped onto my screen. She had answered my message with her chat invitation.
"YES" ...I clicked!
We chatted for two hours. I had 37 questions that needed answering. And she was pretty curious herself. I felt the strongest urge to bless her with $60.00 even though I was unemployed at the time, and she sent me a long, detailed list of items she bought with the money. That really impressed me, as I hadn't asked for it.
The list was heartbreaking. 2 toothbrushes, toothpaste. bar of soap, shampoo, comb, brush, mirror, fingernail clipper, 2 panties, a bra, t-shirt, pads, 50 kilos of rice, dried fish, pork, chicken, 1 thank you card, pencil, and stamps. She also confessed that she drank a water when chatting, using my money, and also saved 15% for the future.
You never know when God will cut the flow of blessings.
Anyway, I didn't know that stamps could make me cry. Six weeks later I flew to her and we took a taxi to the Marriott. It was full. Same at three other hotels. Damn. The Globalists were having their Annual meeting there that week. The city was packed with Security and Royalty. We finally went to the Hilton: No room at the Inn. "We have only the Presidential Suite, Sir," the Receptionist smiled, "It's the finest Suite in Cebu City."
I still can't believe we stayed there. My God. $430.00 for one night!
But the rooms overlooked the ocean, and the jacuzzi tub was out of this world. The shower had multiple heads and there were two TVs, and several rooms of marbled luxury. Thickest puffy towels on earth, with matching robes. Room service. And the finest hours of our lives.
We couldn't marry, at least in the church, and I was born with an allergy to government. See, she was divorced. Abandoned by some real intelligent gentleman in Indiana named Paul. Poor guy. God's greatest Masterpiece of all time, and he bails.
Emmanuel arrived nine months later: Our Perfect Son.
She carries our daughter now, since last week, if I know anything about the Heart of God.
I do.
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Today's LDS Jeopardy Clue:
DO NOT give sniffling children anything that rhymes with, "disease."
No matter who approved the stuff. No matter how much you trust it.
Go now, quickly. Tell the others.
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