Now to some, just this title is a little confusing, but my brain works overtime, so bear with me.

When I was in primary school, all I wanted to do was write and sing.

Growing up in a small town, they laughed me into silence, then last week I watched Ahn’s Brush with fame, he was painting a portrait of Tara Moss. She said her modelling paid for her to write, how she always had a passion for it and her story.

And I saw a little of me, I remember a published writer who visited our primary school, she told me I was really good and I was about 7 or 8 at the time, but I had to keep quiet.

My only avenue to write is this one, and I find my passion is sharing the love for my father and the journey I have been on.

I cannot tell you the amount of times in a week, I tell a story in my head, I am writing, just no one ever reads it.

I know many times others write fiction, but how can I write anything that is not real. I live in a world created by my father, but I have to live in it, and then my spirit lives in his world. I know someone reading this that has not experienced what I have would think I had lost the plot, but when evidence shows otherwise, you cannot deny his love and time for me.

When I was young, its funny he just brought it to my mind, I use to think, if I pray, then someone who needs him more will miss out and that’s OK, so I won’t. Foolish I know, but I was little and no one could answer me, no one ever told me he was omnipresent (everywhere at the same time) because I thought he was like a human, and that he is not.

It is like someone asked about mountains in the bible, it is not a physical mountain but your spiritual one. It is the one where you meet him, where Moses went to write on the tablets and came back glowing.

We think so much with our worldly mind, but spiritually has so much much more.

Revelations says, “and he showed me a river of water clear as crystal” I have seen that river, I have swam in it, I have breathed in that water, because you can, I have seen the trees of life, I have walked on the paths of crystal. This world nothing can compare, trust me, when I pray, when I really really pray and click into another gear, I also click into his place. I have seen a tree, in the middle of the garden, that is all the colours in the rainbow and it shines like crystal in the sunlight, I have walked on cobbled paths.

You can do this too, surrender, pray and open up, unlock the gates holding you back. At the moment I am taking back what the enemy has against me, for if he has nothing, then I am free in the fathers court.

I am getting so excited, I am sitting here and the waft, of orange scented oil, that I am wearing, hits my nostrils, its sweet scent transports me to another place and time. It takes me to a blessed place, a place for the birth of Jesus, could you even imagine being a witness to that, to see a star so big and bright, and blessed to not have interference, from the hands of any corrupted worldly being, but those chosen only by God, to bring in scents and gifts, very blessed people, to be present to be the first to see, his son, Jesus.

This is the story, told many times but never with passion and love added in. Like a painting with no soul, its then just a picture, when you put in heart, soul and love, then you have a winner…