As another Lame Cherry exclusive in matter anti matter.
I do not know what this reveals about me, but I do know that it reveals a great deal about God, and my intention as always is to teach in this, in something which might help them in the catharsis of life.
I have written of our need for a place, to not be homeless, and the want of money and the horrid manipulation of an uncle who I tried to purchase our Grandfather's place from.
In the first instance he played me and cheated me, I unleashed with prayer, turning his words against him and moving it to the point of death, and honestly, within 12 hours he thought he was dying. His children thought the same.
I prayed that he would beg me for help, and sure as God hears prayers, the old man was calling me up for help.
None of this though lessened his malevolent and evil mouth, as he said hurtful things and was the same old selfish sinner he always was, who thinks he should be in the pulpit.
It is an odd thing in that, that he has all this damnedable, great spirit shit from Indians, and his Jesus stuff on the walls. Today when I was putting something away, I noted in a pile of things, my Grandma's portrait of Christ. I remember that hanging on the wall in their first house, and in looking at a photo of the family, it was hanging on Grampa's wall too. Gram hung that there and it was there all the time Beloved Uncle was there, but here comes the wicked one, and down the Jesus picture goes and is piled away with junk.
Wicked one professes about "his mother", and then does that to the only religious thing she had, and to Jesus too boot.
I reminded Jesus today, as I took down some of the wicked's horrid shit he has, and hung Jesus picture back up, that I was the one doing it, and who took Him down, and for Him to remember me in having that place turned over to me.
It was very hard dealing with this old man. He sucked life energy out of us, and actually got better as we cared for him. He though was up to his old games and went for the dark side in shit heads who wanted in on his money, so he deleted us.
He never wanted us back, because he knew we knew his game and he had no place for people he could not play. The problem is the shit he had around him were nothing but ghouls and pariahs.
So in our leaving, I cut him off Spiritually, and he dropped like a rock. Within two weeks of our leaving, the lights were not on, and the television did not play. Others played him, and thought with his degrading they could get that place and his money, but God had a better plan in He moved things for us to re enter the picture.
The old guy has not paid us for our work. I doubt he ever will without being terrified by God. He is gone now to a geezer home, and in his family, we have been doing the work which needs to be done on that place, as they trust us.
The children do not need to be exposed to the squalor this man put himself into. Entering that house was like a shit pit literally, as there were trails of piss and shit through the house. It really bothers me that the pariahs saw this, and did nothing, because they wanted him dead, so they could get the place. I take that as an affront to the Cherry name, and by God I hope to be avenged on this vermin trash too, as wicked or not, that is my name and no one does that to my name.
This is about catharsis though and things I have discovered that God led me into. Things like doing work, repairing things, the jobs which no one else wants to do are rich in rewards. I'm afforded to be on that place after being cut off from it. My entire life when Grampa and Beloved Uncle were there, I was always welcome, and it hurt to not to be able to be on that place. The place feels wonderful now without the wicked one on it, it is serene and happy, but there are still problem on it in the pariahs who have access to it. In that serenity though, the land feels like a salve pulling infection from a sore in my heart. The place has a joy we are there, and a nurturing will to be ours as it talks to us as the land know we love it and protect it.
In Sherlock Holmes, one can read the signs and make conclusions. I mentioned the shit trails and urine corridors in that house. They tell a story. The microwave was ghastly like it would breed disease, as did his dishes which we have now bleached and taken the black off of them. The carpets were rubbed in his scuffing feet. The slippers look like his ankles were enlarged. He had sinus problems. He was not watching television so his eyes bothered him. He had heat on in burning up all of his fuel. There is a shadow outline in his chair, just grime, grime everywhere. He was sweating a great deal. It was either shit or lotion on his upper back sitting in another chair. His bed was ghastly in a urine colored half moon of 3 feet. The trails and accidents of his bowel movements. Milk jugs cut out with shaking hands for him to piss in. Piles of whiskers from his shaver by the sink. They all tell a story of a person with no mobility, no ability to clean anything, no reach to even empty whiskers in the trash. His sense of reason was incapacitated. Here am I reading his torment and suffering like a book, not gloating but thanking God for our being avenged.
The filth was everywhere. He was constantly moving the thermostat in he must have been having hot and cold flashes. He was sweating as I said, and that indicates he was not dressed.
This story is from a man who was parading around outside in November, showing me how spry he was, but in weeks he was clumping around in months he was a cripple cart at the grocery.
In cleaning, we are doing what is right, but removing the stench of him, which was literally a health hazard. I simply can not feel a thing of him on that place. I though am moving things in cleaning, forever ending his presence on that place. Even if a chair is an inch moved, it is where I put it, not him. It is taking back control which he used as a weapon in always judging and ridiculing what was done as never good enough.
It has been a revelation in this, from first reappearing on that place, to entering the buildings to, entering the house, all with family permission, but to repair things and clean things, all work which was necessary, but in that work, God was telling a story of avenging us, by the things we were witnessing.
This wicked one should have been institutionalized months ago, but those who enabled him, were in a liars dice game, where they were playing him close to the grave, while he was trying to play them further from the grave. These most loathsome people all gravitated toward each other and while their interplay is disturbing in how inhumane, how savage and how vile they are, it is the shit of satan on display in the self righteous receiving the balanced scales.
Being avenged is something most of you probably could not deal with, up close like this is for the witness which appears here. You would have misguided compassion, when in reality, this is what the wicked one chose, while everyone who is Christian was trying to save him from this end.
In this, I get to go into that house, and he is denied. I get to decide when I leave. He is ordered when he can eat, sleep, how loud the television can be, and staff will tell him to put on a diaper for pissing his underwear. He is captive and each day will reinforce that fact, and he will learn that he is never leaving there, as his children will not deal with him ever again.
I am looking on his most embarrassing reality and if he knew, he would be completely humiliated as any person would. Who would not be devastated in others finding out how helpless and incompetent age has made them, in that they can not even take care of themselves, and still he was plotting so no one would find out in a county nurse who would report him.
I now walk that house and property which is free of him, and every day his condition degrades, he is being ordered to do everything and he is no longer a man. He is just a thing for his children to avoid and for the staff to engage in ways to stuff him somewhere quickly so they do not have to deal with him.
In time every last thing about him will be gone. His children will find ways to burn things, throw things away, all his things, and replace them with their things, so they will have their catharsis too. In the end, there will be solace that he is no more.
I have been afforded as David wrote Inspired in seeing the end of my enemy.. The workings of the Lord are wonderful. He has provided me things which I did not know I needed, but they are things which are healing us, and as we heal, he is being afflicted, more and more, and in a future time, that affliction will be the torment of hell, when he breathes his last.
Catharsis is better than revenge. Catharsis is healing. It is being justified that evil does indeed suffer and is indeed repaid.
Nuff Said
agtG
