Letters Back

To the dear husband of my youth, always,

I cannot wait until I put it in complete order, even though we are apart. I received all eight letters I sent you back—and one was missing. The second time around, fourteen letters were sent to you, and thirteen came back. I have to help you understand: I have been writing since you asked me for prayer.

I have forty writings just from August ’05.

Likewise, I have been working hard on the writings. Likewise, I have completed four hundred fifty-three writings in nine weeks—that includes one hundred forty-four from the book, my book, “In Presence of Spirit.” It is incredible. The rest of the writings—I knew I had them—are vast in their awesomeness. I mean, each one is its own unique writing, at least for me.

The writings are soothing,

even though my world is in turmoil, upside down. Christ stands, and the presence of spirit is felt in “In Presence of Spirit in Conversations with the Lord.”

Yes, you blessed me with the rest of my incredible trip—

From beyond the dead to life in Christ. I am sorry I missed you—my bull’s-eyes missed you fourteen times. And you never received the letters as I had hoped. No, the letters did not find or follow you—they came back to me. So we are one in the Spirit; we are one in the Lord. Praise God for His laws, statutes, judgments, lamentations, and supplications—in pure love, for the love of God is upon us.

Please do not think that I ever stopped caring about you.

I could have been a thorn, but I was not. Excuse my writing—I feel unwell, and I have written so much, thousands of words. I mean, if “In Presence of Spirit,” the book, has one hundred forty-four writings, to date I have four hundred fifty-three. Three hundred nine writings I have edited, rewritten, and made handwritten copies of—some for you—which I sent, and they returned.

You know, I cannot wait until I put it in order—

Of days, weeks, months, or years.

Ten-plus years of writings from my heart—to yours—and to everyone in the world’s heart. I cannot believe it is the middle of October. Time flies. I thought you already knew everything; now I find out I have not been with you, and your acknowledgment of the arrival of a significant mission—I have been on it since, and before, our demise.

October 17, 2005—Wendy Yvette Greenwell