I had a tremendously spiritual experience awhile back and I've put keeping up with my blog on the back burner. I didn't say it was right or cool or anything like that; it just is what it is and ultimately, it is how I am.

I do know that, most of the details aside, my moment of spiritual insight with the King of Kings is pretty much my business and more importantly, a real snooze fest for anyone who wants to actually know.

He named me His Scribe and gave me the greatest gifts for which I could've ever asked.

I finally got to marry the most wonderful man on God's green earth. We'd called ourselves married for a long time before that, but I finally got to make an honest man of him. It was the most terrifying experience of my life and conversely, the most incredibly easy and natural thing to do.

I was so scared I might make another mistake. I'd had two false starts, my treasured and fellow wingnuts. I admit openly that I kept the right one waiting way too long because I wanted to be sure he wouldn't just change overnight after the vows. It happened before and it was my stubbornness that kept me too timid to realize that if he hadn't changed in the first three years or so, he wasn't going to after he and I legally shared a last name.

He wasn't any better; just as cautious and timid but this isn't about him. It's about me admitting that I should have opened my "eyes wide shut" far sooner.

I say "eyes wide shut" because it's exactly what I had going on. I saw him and loved him so easily, but my silly fears wouldn't let me just take the plunge. That is, until the night before our wedding, when I didn't realize that the next day was Easter. I was too absorbed in the step we were taking the next morning to think about anything else.

I did something that evening that I'd never done before. I asked the only Father I'd ever really known if He would give His blessing to us. I let Him know that I was in love and that I was making this choice. I wasn't going to ask His permission, but I did want His approval.

Imagine my surprise and chagrin when we showed up at the church the next morning and Easter faithfuls (the people who only show up at church on Easter) were walking into the church in their pretty pastels and Easter best. In a way, I felt like I might have been stealing Jesus's thunder. It was His day, after all.

Then I heard the gentle whisper from my spirit, "I brought them to bear witness and celebrate with you, Rachel."

That was when I knew that I'd not only gotten His blessing, but His unconditional approval. He'd sent at least fifty more people than were normally at that intimate little church to help me get the point and to show me without a doubt that He smiled on us that day.

I had no father type to give me away; I didn't need one then. My God, my Father sent dozens of people to see me make my choice and let me know that He supported my decision.

He knew me better than I knew myself. He knew that if anyone gave me away, it wouldn't mean as much to me as the trust He gave me to take that walk myself and take that step by my own decision. I gave my own hand in marriage and He let me go and gave His blessing long before that.

That wasn't even the sum total of the spiritual experiences that I'm talking about. Don't get me wrong, my first real, actual marriage, not the first two because they weren't really marriages anyway, but the one I feel is my one and only because it's all come from the sweetest parts of my secret heart was a powerful experience and memory. It's the only time I've ever spoken vows we wrote ourselves and didn't get at all scared when I was speaking them. That just wasn't all the good Lord decided to hand over to me.

He had another gift in store.

I can't stop writing and when I'm not writing, I phrase things in my head and write in my brain.

I describe my husband in my own head at least ten times a day in the most eloquent and interesting way I can because I want to try to do written justice to what I see when I look at him. I always fall woefully short, but that's beside the point in this instance. He'll see this and stand proud and ego rushing for a while. Then, he'll like, tweet, and Google plus it and it'll be gratifying for him.

I do things like that because I simply can't stop. It would be easier to pull my hair and nails out individually with tweezers and no pain killers.

I just didn't believe in myself so very well and that has a way of tossing talent to the side in favor of self-doubt. I asked God at least eight hundred times if it was what He wanted me to do with my life and when I never heard anything back, I got even less sure of myself. Silence was laden and telling and exactly what I didn't want and yet, it was all I got.

I finally listened to my husband when he suggested that I talk to God about it and lay down a few ground rules for my answer. I finally actually prayed about it and said, "If this isn't what You want me to do with my life, I've written my last word and I can accept that. But if it is, I'll happily write until the day I die, but You need to let me know one way or the other."

Then, I waited for lighting to strike or for the earth to open up and consign me to fiery doom for daring to lay it out on the line like that to the Almighty. I sweated that one for a few days.

That is, until we went to a weekend gathering at the church. If anyone knows what a prophet is, they're the kind of people everyone sees as predictors of the future. It's not the whole of it, but it's what people see, so it's what they are with fair and reasonable estimation. At least, it's close enough and if you are able to understand what I'm talking about and the kind of person I'm talking about, that saves me the trouble of having to explain it any further.

If you want a better idea, read the Books of Isaiah, Exodus, Kings I and II and Chronicles I and II to gain better understanding. Just don't read them through a set of biased "we're all going to hell" eyes because you'll miss the forest for the trees and the whole point of their message. Concentrate on Isaiah; especially chapter 54 verse 9 to upend every bullshit line from a doomsday prophet or Bible thumping Evangelist talking about God being mad and all of us burning in hell for eternity. I really hate that crap. It's irritating and if that weren't enough, it's a big fat lie and crock of shit.

Anyway, we'd gone to this weekend gathering at the church. It was realistically more like a seminar on "finding your inner prophet" wherein we were learning to encourage and exhort to sharpen the natural gift innate in everyone. We were pretty much told to pray and then tell our seminar partner the first thing that popped into our heads because if we emptied our minds and let God take over, we didn't have to know anything to be correct. Then, it came from the One who wasn't ever wrong.

The prophet did do the church sermon thing, by all means and that had been the main point of the weekend for me. He was inspiring even if he didn't agree with all my views. Until he turned, looked at me when he was giving a word of encouragement or guidance to someone else, and said plain as day, "The Lord has said, 'Tell her it's time to write, it's what you were born to be."

Now, don't get me wrong. I'm not the type to just give credence to just anyone based on a silly little thing like only their word. I didn't then, either. He told me things about myself that he couldn't have known without outside assistance and pastor had made it very clear that no one was to give information about anyone because then, what came was definitively from God.

I'm of the opinion that a prophet who is telling you about your future should be able to tell you at least two things about yourself that there's no way they can know without spiritual assistance. He gave me a little more than that while he told me that I was to write and tell my story because God told me to.

When someone who doesn't know your name tells you about your childhood from more than a decade previous and hits the crux of the matter like they've known you all your life, you learn to listen.

The one line that caught me and stayed with me was so simple. I'd heard him mention having done his research before, so he looked into people's lives beforehand. At least, that's what I gathered from that statement. I could've disregarded everything else he said to me as well researched and chalked it up as such. Except that he told me that I've picked up my writing and put it down more than once because I just didn't think I was good enough.

No one but me knew that. I hadn't even ever told my husband because I didn't think anyone wanted or needed to know.

He knew... And the only one who could have given him that was God. I listened to everything he told me before that, but I finally knew then that my second gift that year was right in front of me and on the table.

That was when I turned and gave him my full attention and worked to make note of what he was saying to me. It was my spiritual permission slip; endorsement from the Almighty. My Heavenly Father said I was good enough, that was enough for me because I might have a hard time believing in me, but the inventor of language didn't have the same issue, and that changed everything.

Anyone on earth could have told me seven hundred times that I was good enough to write professionally and I'd have still questioned. My husband had told me several times over four years, but he was supposed to be supportive and his opinion was naturally biased. He was my husband and therefore always read my work through eyes biased by love.

It's not like I blamed him or failed to understand; he's a genius (literally and figuratively) and in my eyes, so very much more than that. I still have to understand that I see in him what no one else does and it's colored by the fact that I'm in love. I can accept that I'm incapable of real objectivity where he's concerned and I needed to accept that he would be just as incapable of real objectivity where I was concerned. Anything I wrote would automatically be a masterpiece to him. Understandable.

But this guy had no reason to lie to me, or be sensitive to my feelings or even take any kind of interest in my irrepressible, compulsive talents. I knew when I'd told God that if He didn't want me writing, I'd written my last word that I was condemning myself to thousands of sleepless nights and so many cluttered, disorganized thoughts and the possibility that I would have a psychotic break. I'm not kidding or exaggerating there. I wasn't sure I wouldn't crack mentally if I couldn't ever write again but I was willing and really, REALLY hoping that that wasn't what He wanted from me. I didn't want to go crazy.

But that wasn't what happened. God wanted me to write. God WANTED me to write. All those years I'd spent with my nose in a book ignoring a dark and terrifying world around me, the hyper literate speed reader who read everything from Encyclopedia Brittanica to little shit in the local newspaper or the ingredients on the shampoo bottle just for something to read and because I couldn't help it, it was all finally coming in handy.

All those years of a vocabulary that got me beaten (and yes, I said beaten... Read "A Sad Happy Birthday-February 14th 2012" to better understand) ostracized and hated, and that was just from my father. All the times I got into trouble because I could read anything with speed and confidence and comprehend everything, all the times I spelled words for him so he wouldn't look as ignorant and illiterate as he was, all the times I read papers to him that he couldn't understand and then explained it all, all the times my words, my reading and writing came in handy for him but not for me because being female and smarter got my ass kicked... It was all coming to something and this time, just this one time, it was coming in handy for me because I had the ability and also blessing of the God I love so much to use my words. I could use them all in ridiculous abundance and immerse myself in it, enjoy it, and glory in it.

That was one hell of a moment for me. If you understand a compulsion at all, you'll understand the impact that had on me and the course my life has taken since then. Imagine the rush. I can tell you that it was addictive, heady, and primal. I wanted to shout, jump up and down, and sing. Don't worry, I'm not in the habit of hurting others, so I didn't burst into spontaneous song. I hope you get the idea because I don't know how to explain the feeling any better than I already have.

Okay, so that was a lie, but I'd use too many pages trying and even I don't have that kind of patience.

All told, a real, honest to goodness spiritual experience gave me true and better understanding of what Christ did and what happened to Him in the wilderness those 40 days. It was enlightening, powerful, and I gained new perspective from it which means that I got exactly what I needed but refused to ask for.

Score another one for the Alpha and Omega. I'm beginning to think He might be showing off just a tad. It's not unreasonable to think that He would. I mean, if I were capable of the kind of things that He can do, I'd show off all the time, not just from time to time. I still see Him as a bit of an egomaniac, but He's the one who'll cop to it. Read the ten commandments where He says, "I'm a jealous God." He wouldn't have said that if He didn't have a great reason and know Himself so well.

I'm game for it either way, I do get to run after my dream, after all. I'll keep you updated, when I remember. In the meantime, be patient with me everyone, I have much to learn and even more to do.