Beloved, you ask again and again: “God, am I truly once and for all, Your Beloved?”

“Yes, you most certainly are,” so sayeth the Lord.

You are not in arrears, nor am I in arrears. Oneness is. Oneness is exactly where Oneness is meant to be. We are One as always. If you feel plagued, you plague yourself. No longer distress yourself.

Pester no one, and most especially don’t pester yourself. Decide a good motif to run through your day. Stay on kilter. Unjangle your nerves.

Sure, there is the aspect that today is just another day. This is how days are. Who can say exactly how today is supposed to be and all that is or isn’t to befall today or tomorrow?

A day is called yours because you enter into it and are part of it. Today belongs to many. Beloved, don’t take any day amiss. You may just be seeing a shadow on tomorrow. You do not as yet know the whole story. You may not know the half of it. You may never know more of it no matter how sure you are that you do.

Who says you have to know all of the why's and wherefore's and how come's and what for's and why not's?

Soon enough, a day is done, and a life is done. Life takes its course, and you find yourself on another adventure. No two days are alike, yet take joy.

Beloved, you have asked Me: “O God, what is the matter?”

I, God, tell you frankly there is no matter. Matter does not exist. You simply get a run for your money no matter what turn life may take.

You go uphill and downhill. You walk across the street. You say, thank you, and you say you’re welcome. You say hello and good-bye. You ask yourself, what time is it, and what time was it, and you ask yourself why do you care so much? Did I, God, make it so?

Shakespeare said: “Too much ado about nothing.”

Child, you seem to see that a chapter begins, and another chapter ends. One day begins, and one day ends, and you are off to the races. The Sun rises, and the Sun sets. Stars blink. Someone starts his computer. Someone turns off his computer. Someone loses his wallet, and someone else finds the wallet and returns it. A car starts, and another car doesn’t start.

You suppose that someone goes to sleep somewhere, and someone else wakes up sooner or later. Someone climbs a tree, and someone falls from a tree. Is this all that to-do about nothing that Shakespeare thought of before there were computers to turn on?

All of life seems so important, and then you start all over again. You plod along, or you bounce back, and the day is done, and the night begins. Where are you? Where did you begin? You understand that you never end.

What’s it all about or not about, and what difference does it make? Where is the rapture? When do you begin to know something worth mentioning? And how on earth do you know how to tell time, and when do you remember anything, and why should you remember it, especially when it seems to haunt you?

Look! Here’s another turn in the road, and it’s all water under the bridge – as bridges are.

You know the alphabet and the multiplication tables. You know the gang’s all here. What do you have to know anything for? What difference does the day make, and who, in God’s Name, says so?

What time did you go to bed last night, and what time did you wake you wake up this morning, and what for and why not?

Beloved, you ask Me what I was just saying. What conclusion do I make? Which side is up, and which way is the way to go Home?

God, I ask You, am I truly Your Beloved? Am I?