THE WINNER GAVE IT ALL GIVEN YOUR ALL - NOW WHAT ? HOME ISBN 0 9577 426 7 3 CHAPTER 25 Written/published 3/6 - 15/6/09
"Declare His glory among the nations, His wonders among all peoples."
(Psalm 96, 3)
25. SH ...NONONO medicine
Three days late, moments before commencing this chapter, I turned over the Joyful News Calendar to the month of June 09. The scripture for the month is John 14, 6, arguably the most controversial words ever spoken by Jesus:
"I am the way, the truth and the life, no one comes to the Father, but by me."
Earlier in the day, thinking about what to include in this chapter, I knew my latest journey to Melbourne, the main part of this chapter, holds an amazing 146 incident.
Before this, however, another mystical link arose after I had discovered the calendar, which in May 09 featured a rose, no pun intended. The street name, where I had discovered the identical rose I had scanned from the Joyful News calendar, was Rowe Street - only a w of difference.
The way my brain received messages, and their mystical, symbolic nature, surprised me each time it happened. Often they came during my early morning prayer, but not always. God is not limited as to when or where HE speaks to us.
One recent discovery, I can't recall when I first stumbled across it, pointed to the letter D and the postcode for our suburb Para Hills: 5096. In the left column of this table are the 6 States and 2 Territories that make up our country. The centre column lists all the Roman numerals and on the right their value.
In the previous chapter, under the picture of the church sign in Blackwood I wrote that it was D-week. At this time Australia, together with other countries, remembers D-Day, June 6, 1944. This was the day the Allied Forces landed on the coast of France, signalling a turning point in the Second World War.
How I was hoping for a turning point in my war against corrupt forces in my hometown Adelaide! But I knew my D-Day was coming, and soon.
D is the first letter of the word 'Deutschland'. The D identifies a motor vehicle as coming from Germany, after driving across a border. Watching the German TV News on our SBS Broadcaster recently on the 'Journal' my mind took a strange journey, which ended online, being astounded about motor car registration letters.
It started with this news items:
My doubting brain found it all so amusing and doubted the whole story. That morning, on 23/5/09, I sent a brief comment about Mrs. Lopez to Deutsche Welle TV
After pressing the sent button I was just about to move on, when I noticed a name on their web page. The glimpse of this name set in motion a sequence, clicking through information, which I scribbled on a piece of paper as I surfed. It all happened so fast, effortless, as if someone else was in control.
Since my mind was in Germany it came to me immediately. Check if there was a NH car registration district in Germany? I googled it in seconds.
To let the German TV program know what I had discovered, I invented another blogger, an even older one and informed them with this email:
(My apology's to anybody called Dieter Winter. I'm sure there are some; but what a name and age for a real winner!)
Any German speaking reader will understand the satire here: Rennweg (run away... where to ... new house?)
Hey ... how strange ... the scripture in Isaiah, under the above table, speaks of those who escape ...?
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Neuson at 501
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The very next day, only hours after I had uploaded Book 7, Chapter 24 at 7.24 PM, on the 24th I had occasion to sent an email to Israel. In a similar way, it also had started with a piece of information online, which took me onto an out of the way trail of discovery.
One item in a regular online-newsletter from a Christian group reported a huge gas reserve in the Tamar gas field, off the Israeli coast. The numbers 8 1 5 struck me - 88 billion cm, which would last for 15 years, had been found. I played with the data. My calculator translated this gas find into 5.8666666 cm per year.
For whatever reason, I turned my calculator upside down, which displayed 999999'85. This only needed an injection of another one of my favourite numbers 15 to round it off to 1 M (1 million).
Much later it came to me: Disregarding the 66666 in above figure it would read 5.86, which makes me see 486 + C.
Still my online excursion continued. Researching the story about the gas find brought me to the title page of the Jerusalem Post. I rarely surf newspapers online, especially foreign ones. I read about the gas find. As I did, (why does it happen to me?) I noticed a misspelling in a name. On the same page a famous politician's name was spelled two ways: Leiberman and Lieberman (Oh, dear ...Ach Du lieber ...)
My email to the webmaster, pointing out the mistake, was kindly answered by *Mr. Flam (no e, but he included a link to a job-vacancy: Wanted mathemagician, also must have spelling skills ... (just joking).
While in Israel online, I researched the possibility of cycling around Israel. Moments into it, another surprise: The freshly published chapter 24 featured a street name, south of Adelaide. It was called Acre (Ave). This name stood out immediately, after I suddenly found myself in a place called Acre, on the Mediterranean Coast.
Maybe, I will be there one day, not only with my mouse?
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In an email to Germany I had asked a friend, an expert in alternative medicine (mind-altering pills?), what he thought of the Murtoa co-incidence (in the previous chapter). A day or so ago he replied to my email, suggesting he could 'heal' my condition.
So this is an illness, he thinks. Because I took notice of the number 122 and seconds later I pick up a small item, imprinted A22, and make a link, I need pills as a cure? Don't scientist, detectives, researches (into anything) have to do just that, look for links, find connections? What would this same expert think of what happened this morning, another link, with numbers?
I was reading in my German Bible from the first letter to the Corinthians, Chapter 3. The Apostle Paul explains some key concepts. Human wisdom is totally different to God's. Verse 19 (liberally translated):
Paul warns of pride. And don't we have many proud scientists and other achievers among us, who love the accolades as they receive their awards! Nothing wrong with that, as long as you recognize in your heart, and know the source of ALL success, all good.
Earlier in his letter to the Corinthians Paul warns against following a human's teachings, implying that some make Gods of their teachers. Paul says to follow God's Holy Spirit. He includes himself, saying:
There was my answer to my friend's suggestion that I suffer from an illness. Just as Paul and Apollos had been given a particular work to do, I am called to do the work I was called to do. Even if God were to allow an illness as part of the deal, would not God use it to bring to pass HIS purposes, His plan for HIS kingdom? The story of JOB comes to mind - mega illness, mega suffering, mega lessons learned, mega riches in the end.
If my 135 link above is indeed an illness, I had a bout of that flu (not bird flu, not swine flu, let's call it rego-plate flu) as soon as I left the house this morning. The first vehicle I had to give way to, exiting Goodall Road, turning onto Bridge Road, was W..V 315. Just as I reached my destination (the place I transported Ross from at Northfield), another vehicle passed by, NSW registration plate ... 315.
If this website, my seven books, were fiction writing, I would have long ago stopped bringing co-incidental links into the picture. They can become repetitive and boring. However, God's Holy Spirit is one who moves from place to place. He is working in people in many places and in many way. We may never know on this side of heaven the impact we had, by doing what God wants us to do, in blind faith or otherwise.
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U R S - 70 Light Square
On the afternoon of writing this, Thursday 11/6/09, I paid a visit to the State Library on Adelaide's North Terrace. The weather was lovely; sunny and dry; so I cycled. Opposite the oval, as if it was planted for me to find, I spotted an empty milk carton on the roadway; much the same as I had found in the previous chapter - Win a Leave Pass.
The expiry date on this carton was 136, and it was only 375 ml. Just for fun I totalled the two numbers. They add up to 511. Ephesians 5, 11 speaks of exposing the works of those who do evil. My mission this afternoon was to expose the evil I had discovered, the discrepancy of what was written in the newspaper ten years ago and what really had taken place in a courtroom.
Generally, the hour I spent reading at the library, articles about the Liddy case in 2001, confirmed that the case was reported totally one-sided, with only superficial details when it suited their argument.
A good example: "A victim flew in from interstate ..." is all that was printed in the paper about this man. That he had given leave from a Queensland prison cell, that he was promised a lesser jail term for testifying against Peter, that he stole a motor car and crashed it, while in Adelaide did not make it into the newspapers.
Did the jury know the circumstances of this and other witnesses, before they believed them, but not Mr. Liddy? The other point, which I read (again) today about this whole affair: The jury deliberated for a day or more. Having sat all day on June 5th, they broke for dinner and were ordered to resume at 8 PM.
Judge Nyland asked the spokesperson of the jury, if they were near a verdict, otherwise she would order that the jury be recalled the next day. From then on the six men and six women only took 20 minutes to reach their verdict. Guilty on 9 counts, not guilty on 6.
Judge Nyland refused bail. Defence Lawyer, now judge, Margaret Shaw did not apply for bail. Interesting, that the newspaper made a point of reporting this fact! What's the message here: The case is hopeless anyway, why bother?
The Advertiser newspaper reports: "Mr. Liddy maintained he is innocent right through the trial. He pleaded not guilty and showed no remorse."
Why would an innocent man plead not guilty and then show remorse? Above comment does not sound intelligent to me.
My final point - the newspaper reported that after a public outcry, because Mr. Liddy refused to attend the court session, where victims make their victim impact statement, the laws were changed to force him to do so!
What bulldust! The public generally does not cry out. They are sitting at home, more interested in the footy or what's on TV. Unless personally affected, nobody gives a rat's tail about what goes on in court. The laws were changed, Mr. Liddy was forced to sit through the lies, not because of a public outcry, but because those powerful elements, who wanted to have the poor magistrate behind bars, reached right up to the echelons of parliament. They got their way. But the end is what counts!
One alleged victim claimed that their lives had been ruined! One victim, after Mr. Liddy's guilty verdict said: "Yes, it is a good day. He got more than I expected. I feel like dragging him out to the back and shooting him. I hope he is never released."
Now, wasn't this a real great piece of news, worthy of printing in the newspaper! Of course, the alleged victims would feel safer, if the man, who knows first hand, if they were telling lies or the truth, were dead, or forever rotting in a prison cell. If they were lies, there was far less chance the truth would ever come out.
If justice is not served here on earth, friends, there is a world coming where the secrets of men's hearts will be laid bare. It will all come out! Punishment for evil doers, who never turned around and repented of their action, will last for eternity. (Sit down for ten minutes and think about nothing, but the worst toothache you can remember - then think about the word eternity!)
All need God's forgiveness! HE is willing, waiting for forgive, when your are!
Has the lives of Peter Liddy's alleged victims really been ruined? I know for a fact, one of them is doing very well. One of the gentlemen (we shall visit him - almost - in Melbourne shortly) is doing very well. To the best of my knowledge, after research online, he holds a very prominent position in a popular, world-wide organisation, possibly earning a six-figure salary.
Completing my research at the State Library, I returned the box with the newspapers on microfilm into their slot in the cabinet. As I did I saw the box number and date, from 1-11 June 01. It was box Nr. 555. It reminded me of a date: 11.1.05!
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One other seemingly insignificant detail, the date of Peter's guilty verdict, June 5th 2001, grew big in my mind after today's research.
On June 5th 09, the 8th anniversary of that sad day, I went into Adelaide on my bicycle. This story started with a letter I had written to our Attorney-General, Mr. Atkinson. Writing from my heart and mind I told him as I saw it, and asked a few questions. I told him of the inaccuracy I discovered in the newspaper article, and what had occurred in court regarding the bribe money (see previous chapters).
I called a spade a spade - (quoting from my letter, delivered to Mr. Atkinson June 5th, 09):
I also drew attention to the case of carer Tom Easling. Another unfortunate, kind man was pursued by the same unit, headed by Detective Conte. As reported in an earlier chapter, this child-abuse investigation unit proved to be very unprofessional, downright sloppy, in their investigations against Mr. Easling. I urged the Attorney-General, in the light of the Easling case, to have the case against Mr. Liddy re-examined.
*Read the full version of the letter to Mr. Atkinson here!
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On the back cover of my diary:
Student card (Hawkins) and blue plastic label 30" (76 CM).
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On June 5th I cycled into the city and delivered the letter to Mr. Atkinson, leaving it at the reception at Parliament House. As mentioned it was the date Peter Liddy was sentenced exactly 8 years earlier. At the time I wasn't aware of this fact. This is why I am including a brief encounter I had with a lady at the Central Market that day.
Among the busy crowd I spotted a face, which looked like that of a prominent lady, a radio and TV journalist. It was around 12.45 PM, moments before I delivered the Atkinson letter, plus a copy to Judge Nyland right next door to the Central Market. The famous face was Fran, a fan without the r, but more so her surname surprised me. That's why I am writing about it here. It's the same surname as that of a senior legal figure in the Liddy trial.
Would you explain it away as co-incidence, when time, place and surname - all come together?
But there was more. I was on my way to an outside broadcast of Radio Five AN, starts with F .. and ends in... an!
On my way to the broadcast at Marion, waiting at the traffic lights Goodwood & Cross Roads, I spotted on the footpath a *plastic card with a photo on it. (Pic. above). Without any plan, only following the general direction south through the suburbs, I saw a street name - Rose St. I followed it. On the right was a real estate sign. The place for lease was at No. 15. This is why I picked up and included the 30 cm tag, also shown above.
Reaching the huge shopping complex, the Marion Shopping Centre, where I had never been by bicycle, I locked it on a post outside the northern entrance. Cooling myself down a little, I looked up and saw a familiar shop. It was a branch of the beauty chain... Reflections.
Popular radio personalities Peter Goers and Carol Whitlock entertained their listeners from this shopping mall, one of the largest in Australia. A few had gathered, sitting on chairs provided, listening to interviews or asking questions during the three-hour program.
As soon as I arrived I recognized and sat near a gentleman, named Roger. With a five-letter name like that, three of which spell GER, any German man would think, he had come to the right place ... or?
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Carole Whitelock and Peter Goers, Radio ABC 891
On-location broadcast, Marion Shopping Centre - June 5th 09
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Three months earlier, on March 21, 09 I had been to an outdoor event, organised by the same radio station, ABC 5 AN. It was the time of their twice-yearly car-park caper. I couldn't persuade my wife to come with me, even though she would have loved to browse among the many stalls, which sold a variety of plants and associated products. I was also on my bicycle that day.
After I turned from Main North Road into California Ave, Nailsworth, a thought came to me: This carpark caper should really have been held on 12.3, not on 21.3. Why? The answer is as easy as ABC!
A volunteer, collecting the gold coin donation at the gate, looked at my bike and asked: "Where is your trailer?"
I was completely surprised at his question. He must have been one of those six, who was following my journey on the web. I can't recall what I answered. (A good, standard, non-threading reply to any such comment is: "How long have you got?")
On the first stall, just inside the gate, I recognized an ex-driving instructor colleague, busy making pancakes. His organisation was raising funds for the Children's Hospital, if I remember correctly. With honey and sugar the pancake tasted lovely. (Most driving-instructors are multi-skilled, besides road safety. Some write books, others cook pancakes for sick children.
While the carpark was doing it's caper, the place buzzing with activity, the radio presenters did their normal radio broadcasts live from a marquee in the carpark. For a while I watched the handyman/girl (their expert in home maintenance is a lady) giving demonstrations and answering questions. She has a lovely name, perfect for this chapter - Rose.
Before moving to Melbourne, one last comment about the ABC and the car park caper. One question in the Saturday morning quiz was this: "What is the last word in the New Testament?" I had to think for a moment. The lady got it right - Amen.
Another regular quiz on the ABC is broadcast after midnight. Not often, but the other night I was listening and got a pleasant surprise. Listeners can choose from various topics - Geography, Botany, Animals etc. and ... the Bible. What a nice change from the usual ridicule Christians often hear and see in the media! Between midnight and 6 am they tolerate us.
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As the year before, Melbourne in May 09, was full of surprises.
(For an interesting 4 and 9 tale - read on)
On Friday May 8th, for the third time in 2009, I drove to Melbourne. The number fever started before I had even left our driveway in Goodall Road. Ready to reverse, I was about to reset the tripmeter to 0, when I noticed the digits it was set on - 011. (The night before I had ended Chapter 23 with this sentence: The 1 1 message is simple - God won).
According to news reports, Melbourne, supposedly, has the largest number of swine flu cases in Australia. On the morning of writing Dr. Margaret Chan of the Word (+L) Health Organisation upgraded the epidemic from category 5 to 6. But let's go to Melbourne anyway, if only on your screen.
I thought I would find the place I had booked as accommodation easily. I knew where St. Kilda Road was, everybody does; but I felt increasingly frustrated, taking 45 minute of searching. The reason was numbers flu.
Let me explain: If you are standing outside No. 133 and your destination is No.420 (for example), you travel in the direction of 135 to get there. Not so in St. Kilda Road, Melbourne. I should have moved the other way, because the house numbers at a major intersection suddenly go back to No.1 and start all over again. I had to ask a few people for help.
When I finally booked into the back-packers around 9.30 PM I was pleasantly surprised. The place was spotlessly clean; car parking was no problem. The allocated dormitory number 271, plus the cost per night, $ 27 made me wonder, maybe there are more people than six, who follow my journey? Seven?
My Melbourne weekend hadn't started, the codes were freely flowing already. One reason for this trip was the annual visit of the US Preacher, who was to speak at Grace Church, Wantirna the next afternoon. I had attended his previous two conferences at the same venue, same weekend. Why not a hat-trick?
The function started at 1.30 PM, which gave me a few hours to enjoy this lovely city on the Yarra. I love it.
Opposite the Hilton Hotel, on Wellington Parade, I found 2 hours free parking. The short stroll past the mighty MCG, the Mecca for Cricket Gurus, was a pleasure. That day I carried an umbrella. Coming from Adelaide I had almost forgotten what an umbrella is used for. I didn't need it for the rain, rather used it to brighten up the photo I took on that overcast day:
Melbourne City - charming even on a misty day.
Left: Sony ... Nissan ... 370oSHIFT ... Whoever thought that up had one or ten too many!
At the Crown Cafe in Swanston Street I sat by the window, enjoying a coffee, a delicious cake and watching the shoppers walk by. I was given table-id No. 27.
Without planning, not long afterward I found myself on the street corner of the Angus and Robertson Bookstore. Memories kept flooding back, painful, yet satisfying memories going back more than six years. What a ride it has been since Book 1, Chapter 64!
I took the few steps to the basement store. To my right, at the spot where I had hugged a famous sport star in March 03, was now a stand of selected books. Staff had read these and wrote comments about each book on a display card.
One title grabbed my attention - ANATHEM by Neal Stephenson.
It only took IT to see this title as ANAHEIM. T to I - there you have IT.
During the few minutes I had in the bookstore, looking through ANATHEM, by Neal Stephenson, I found myself on page 153, at the start of a new chapter. The title ELIGER didn't mean anything, until I put my bi-lingual hat on and read it as SELIGER - German for 'saved one'.
I had seen this additional S right away. The additional S a moment ago came as I thought about the small boy busker in Burke Street. A little boy busker, surname *Shaw, sat on a seat outside a department store, playing his keyboard and singing a song. I put a Dollar into the hat. That brave, talented young man deserved it. I think his mum was watching from a parked vehicle nearby.
*(A while ago, on this page we had the surname Shaw).
Amazing, how one little letter makes a difference! Look at the following email, which I sent during this writing on 12/6/09. It was a very rare contact with our Advertiser Newspaper, following a discovery in their 11/6 edition:
It had started with another message to a TV Station. I had heard a lady pronounce the Adelaide Hills town of Lobethal, as Lobenthal.
Two days later my wife brought home that day's Advertiser Newspaper. On the front page, inside the main headline, the word HIT was begging to be recognized - as hint? The same (the word hit) was also a headline on page 18.
I was not looking for any hints, as I leafed through the paper, however another oddity made me think, there is something here, but what?
It took only a few moments to find. Pages 18 and 19 were the only two pages in the whole edition newspaper, which displayed drop-letters; four to be exact - M A N M.
But perhaps the front page headline was the hidden, real hint - 9999. It was about increased costs in medications: MEDICINE PRICE HIT - IC in Roman numerals, two times = 99+99=198.
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(Back to Melbourne)
Walking back to the Suzuki, still in Burke Street, I bought two items I needed: a diary and a good map of greater Melbourne. I was tired of getting myself lost. Without thinking numbers, I bought both items at a newsagent for $ 11.- ($ 6.50 the map and $ 4.50, the diary).
Thanks to the wonderful Eastern Freeway (and my new map) I was only a few minutes late for the annual seminar at Wantirna. Waiting at the last set of traffic lights, just before reaching the venue, I could not help marvel at the odometer reading on my dashboard - 277 077.
One of the reasons I looked forward to this seminar was the subject: Overcoming Life's Challenges. Lessons from the life of Joseph. Anybody, who wants to learn life's most precious lessons ought to study the principles, which Joseph learned during his incredible 13 year journey from rock bottom (literally) to unimaginable heights.
He stayed on top, believing in the dream God gave him, when everything seemed to go against him. Almost killed by his brothers, innocently accused of rape, lingering for years in prison, forgotten by a fellow prisoner whose life he had saved, Joseph trusted God - totally.
His is the story of a man, who knew God intimately, whose simple heart did not consider the hopelessness of the present, but trusted God unequivocally, when he could have cursed the injustice of his fate many times.
A believer who trusts God completely, who knows the master has a plan for the ultimate good of each of us, has learned the most important lesson in life: There is a God. I don't have to struggle through life on my own. I trust YOU, whoever you are, in whatever I am going through, because all that matters is - YOU love me!
A lady sat near me in the large auditorium at Grace Church Wantirna. I didn't know her, neither did I know anybody among the approx. 300 participants. I needed a piece of paper to write on, so I asked her. She handed me not only a piece of paper, but what was left of a notebook.
On the cover of the notebook my outside the box brain saw two words. Letters 3 and 4 were the same letters, which had come to life earlier in this chapter - totally unplanned - UR; how they fit into this chapter!
But to see the letters ID L, you must know German and change le into el: (Read it under the picture).
Notebook cover: Churston Deckle
Deckel in German means lid.
At the conclusion of the afternoon I had the pleasure of exchanging a few words with the international guest speaker. He recalled our brief email exchange after my previous visit two years earlier.
When I had thought about attending the seminar I had wondered, if one of the two Adelaide football teams, playing in the AFL (Australian Football League, oval ball) would be playing that weekend in Melbourne. I was in luck. Adelaide's Port Power was playing at Etihad Stadium (formerly Telstra Dome) that very evening.
It was the first time I had been to one such match in Melbourne and only the second time ever. And the entrance fee? Loved that too - $ 11.50.
Right through the two hours it looked as if the Power was going to lose by a large margin*. At the last quarter, however, four quick goals and the visitors could have beaten their opponent, North Melbourne. Had they scored that one goal right at the end, they would have won the match by 1 point. It wasn't to be. The Power lost by 5 points.
The numbers looked interesting: 18.12 120, meaning they scored 18 goals (each 6 pts) and 12 behind (each 1 pt) total 120. North Melbourne scored 20.5. 125.
One week later at home luck was on their side. Playing against Richmond (a Melbourne team), the Power scored a gaol in the dying seconds of the match. This was enough to clinch their fifth victory for the season by 3 points.
Following a football team interstate and writing about their games could not be classed as stalking. What about searching out an alleged abuse victim, one who you believe told lies, and cycling past his house, praying for justice - it that stalking? Every time I did this, it wasn't the first time, I always felt I was sailing close to the wind. On this trip I did it again, anyway.
On that crisp morning I again cycled past the house of the person, whose Adelaide mother had told me on the phone, she believes her son had never been abused by Peter Liddy.
Having a good eye (and memory) for registration plates that morning I saw that man's vehicle parked in the street. I had seen it in the driveway of his mother's house a few Christmas' back. This time I took a photo of the the number ... 146.
Advance the clock a mere 4 hours or so. I had attended church in an eastern suburb. I looked at my map to check, where I could eat the sandwich I had brought with me and, if needed, brew some coffee. A large green area on my map, with a lake at its centre, looked just the place.
I drove there, found myself on Lake Road and was looking for a carpark. There was nothing that way. Next I spotted a side road, the name sounded promising, Halley Street. I decided to turn there and park behind a brown vehicle. It's registration plate really spooked me. I took a photo. I was amazed. Had I been led to the right place?
Top: 146 - Bottom: OIK ...46.
Disregarding a digit - 146 OK. Loved it or should I say - awesome!
Just now I see - @ Love! (Alpha Romeo).
Here comes the another bizarre link. I write it as I see IT.
In the previous chapter I saw a little magic on the May 09 page of the Joyful News Calendar. It was only the second time I had used a picture from it among my seven books. Here in this chapter, this same calendar, is scoring a hat trick: The scripture for June 09 is as magical as the book it comes from - John 14,6.
The above car owner's name and registration plate - Jon (JC) 146.
God's a stalker: John 14,6 - Joyful News Calendar, June 09.
My early morning ride, back in the morning of above Sunday 10.5, took me along Melbourne's waterfront, along Beaconsfield Parade to Port Melbourne. The red and white hull of the Spirit of Tasmania could be seen miles away. As I came closer I noticed another large vessel, also painted in red and white, docked right behind the Tasmanian ferry. It was called the 'Wilhelmsen'.
It reminded me that my father's name was Wilhelm. He died aged 79, never having seen the ocean.
A little googling revealed the Wilhelmsen Ships Service is located at 1/39 ... PO Box 361. The date of writing 136. I also see our friend 9 6 again.
In chapter 22 I wrote about finding, by chance - or not - a church called ONE Church. This time I decided to actually attend their service. The long, suburban road I had taken to find my place of worship had tram lines in the centre. Unable to overtake I found myself following the 109 tram to Box Hill (See picture Chapter 22 - read on, we shall meet again). I was about 15 minutes late at church.
As usual I take particular notice of lyrics sung in church services. Some make you feel like asking the song leader to pause, and please explain what is meant by this phrase or that line.
One song at One Church I took notice of was sung during communion, written by Stuart Townend*, 1995:
Behold the man
How deep the Father's love for us, how vast beyond all measure,
That he should give his only son, to make a wretch his treasure.
How great the pain of searing loss, the Father turned his face away,
As wounds which mar the chosen one, bring many sons to glory.
Behold the man upon a cross, my sin upon his shoulders.
Ashamed, I hear my mocking voice call out among the scoffers.
It was my sin that held him there until it was accomplished,
His dying breath has brought me life; I know that it is finished.
I will not boast in anything: no gifts, no power, no wisdom,
But I will boast in Jesus Christ; his death and resurrection
Why should I gain from his reward? I cannot give an answer
But this I know with all my heart: his wounds have paid my ransom.
The lyrics in the first verse, 4th line put a tear in my eye, but a smile on my heart. Among all the places to worship, I had chosen ONE (Church) that Sunday.
During my previous brief visit to this church, I had a few words with a gentleman, Neville, and his wife outside in the car park. Now, about four months later, I heard an announcement that the mother of Neville had passed away during the week. If indeed it was the same Neville's mother, I never found out.
Where to now, Lord, was my prayer after a free coffee and a chat with a few church goers. This is when I found the lake on the map, which led me to the above pictured Alpha Romeo. What followed was an enjoying afternoon on my bicycle.
I tried to find a track around the lake, but instead ended up at a garage sale at Milton Street, On the way I took a photo of a parked Ford, because it carried registration number 262 and was parked right beside a yellow advisory speed sign 20 km/h. The number 242 (Life without barriers) in chapter 22 was fresh in my mind.
A sign indicated a bicycle path to Nunawading. In church, during church news on the big screen, a fundraising event had been advertised: Snags (hot dogs) outside a hardware store in nearby Nunawading.
I asked my way through, found the place OK and ordered my hot dog. While eating it I couldn't help making a comment to the ladies: "Very nice sausage. But in church on the screen they were much bigger!"
Finding my way back to my green machine took me through one of those episodes, if I can call it that, but in a different (still medical) way. A nearby street sign, just after my hot dog on the Maroondah Highway, read Goodwin St. Why not cycle along that way? It lead to Elm Street, where I spotted another sign, Cootamundra Walk.
Cootamundra (the town in New South Wales) brought back distant memories - blocked roads because of a feared gas* explosion (How amazing - it's Chapter 27 of Book 5. It tells the story of the 7 cloud on 12.1.07 - I don't choose numbers, friends, I just report them).
*It actually was a feared explosion inside a wheat silo.
My surprise was therefore even greater, a few moments later, when I arrived back on the Maroondah Highway. A large sign blared at me - Ezygas! To my left was small car park of a doctor's surgery. Not exactly, but it might as well have been, a voice was saying: "Check the registration plates in this carpark". (Just as I had done in The Kingston job - adding the numbers of registration plates).
I turned around and did it. The only personalized plate was TARA 11. The rest were 933, 664, 647, 256. I wrote them down and kept cycling, wondering! One side of me said, how crazy is all this! What on earth are you doing? The other side urged to just do it - trust your inner spirit, you done it now for so many years, keep going, you are not crazy!
If the total of the registration plates in that carpark really were something (the 11 alone fits perfectly), the total 2511 would have to be it. I had photographed taxi 2051, outside the Como Centre, South Yarra on 25/1. (Chapter 22. Hey, didn't 125 feature in Chapter 24 also? I wrote it two weeks later!)
I had already exited the small carpark, when I turned back to pick up a small discarded piece of paper. I wasn't going to, but I was tuned into the Spirit, who guided me that day. Again, how do I know if this was something, or nothing? Without it, however, this chapter would have a different title.
On that piece of paper was the name, which I alluded to in the previous chapter - the English version of the German Jung - Young.
If I deduct the letters TARA from the letters of Ms. Young's first name - I am left with UTL. During research and writing this chapter this tiny piece of paper, pictured below, revealed more letters.
The Whitehorse is a landmark of the council district called Whitehorse.
(Recommencing this chapter on 14/6/09)
I just noticed the word 'coin' only in above picture. Less than 1/2 hour before this writing I sent an email to Channel Nine. My dog needed a walk before I got myself chained to my P/C trying to complete this chapter today.
I find it hard to explain how it happened, only that what transpired during the short 20 minutes walk was a coin-incident. It started with me changing my mind and taking a different route to normal. Walking west down Goodall Road my Fox Terrier and I crossed through our local parking lot. Here is how I explained to Channel 9 what happened next:
Back in Melbourne it was still early afternoon, so I played tourist on my bicycle. It was cool, but lovely and sunny as I pedalled along the Yarra River bicycle trail, up one way and back on the other.
At Federation Square I was surprised to find that a Festival was under way; singing and dancing, bright coloured costumes of many colours. It surprised me that Melbourne's Russian Orthodox Community had chosen Mother's Day to celebrate, whatever they were celebrating. A tall man stood out among the crowd. A clergyman dressed in a long black robe, full beard and head covering, just as you would imagine a typical Russian Orthodox Priest or Bishop would look like. His name was Father Ilya.
I made a point of talking to the gentleman. Another surprise; Father was not Russian, but Irish. He had converted and was now a Russian Orthodox Priest. On parting he asked me to pray for him. For a moment I considered to lay hands on him right there, but then thought: Shouldn't he, the man everyone greeted as they walked by, pray for his flock? Don't they pay him to do that? Unless he meant I should pray he gets a raise? (Sorry for my un-orthodox thinking).
Back in South Yarra, where I had parked my Suzuki, on a corner opposite Fellini's Restaurant, I found a business card. When I saw it, still on the ground, I somehow sensed it may hold some meaning. Does U L Healthcare have meaning, does the phone numbers 96 .... 228.on the back mean something?
Numbers don't heal anybody, not even big numbers with a Dollar sign in front. "I am the God that heals", say the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, the Father of Josef, who gave his son that coat, one of many colours - HE is THE ONE.
From the diary: Tag - Kingston Technology 2GB
That evening I cycled into town to eat. I found a Chinese Restaurant - forefront - and ordered fried rice, take-away. I ate it sitting on a seat, just around the corner, in Elizabeth Street. It was dark already. The spot was very near the travel agent, where in 03 I had bought an air ticket and impulsively flown to the USA the next day. That evening, however, as I cycled down Elizabeth Street, the above mentioned registration plate AUDI 1550 caused me to stop at eat my fried rice right there.
The next day was Monday 11.5.09. One major reason to travel to Melbourne that particular weekend was an appointment I had made for that day at the US Consulate, 553 St. Kilda Road. I had not forgotten.
The familar Federal Police car ...286 was parked outside. My appointment, which I thought was to sit down with an officer and talk about my application for a non-immigrant visa, was at 9.15 am.
In hindsight, I should have been far better prepared for this interview, i.e. reading my correspondence and the US Visa website more carefully. My mind in the days leading up to my departure from Adelaide was more on finishing Chapter 24, which I managed the night before. Still, no excuses.
Little wonder my Monday morning was a hectic one and turned out a complete failure. If I was not waiting in the waiting room, among dozens of other applicants, I was racing around to get pass-port photos done or moving my Suzuki from one parking place to another, to avoid a parking ticket. In between were hours of waiting in the window-less waiting area.
The type of visa I applied for was non-immigrant, up to 12 months, to spend extra time in the US. I made the mistake of writing two words on my application, as a reason for the visa: 'exploring opportunities'. I knew the rules would not allow me to do any work.
When finally my number came up, after 1 pm (remember I had been there since before 9 am), a lady behind a counter, much like a teller at a bank, told me straight out that 'exploring opportunities' meant work. There were a few moments, where I tried to explain what my intentions were, but it did not help. My visa was refused. No review permitted, no refund of fees.
I had not intended to do paid work, voluntary work, perhaps. Plus I was intending to again explore, a little more organised than on previous trips, what interest I could raise in my road safety ideas.
The rebuff was a disappointment, but I regard is as an opportunity to practice what I preach - trust God. If HE wants me somewhere else in the world - wherever, whenever, I will be there.
The application in total, not counting the cost of the trip over from Adelaide, cost approx. $ 250. To be refused in one sentence, then find that there is no review, no refund and another try would have to be from the starting block, made me feel ... ? Actually, why should I be surprised at being rejected and/or misunderstood?
The four hours in the waiting room were brightened up by a little child, playing and just being a curious child. It was a pleasure to just watch him, little Daniel, also from Adelaide, aged about 3.
A picture on the back wall puzzled me, I had sat right under it for some time without noticing it. At one time during the long wait, I looked at the picture, a photograph I think, a little more closely and thought, how odd it was. All it showed was a wall of an ordinary looking house, 2 windows at the bottom level and 4 windows on the top. In between in large, white letters (going from memory, I dared not ask - can I take a photo) was written, horizontally - AMERICA. (I had just uploaded Chapter 23, where the No. 24 received a few mentions).
I had expected to be gone in 1 hour the most, so didn't even bring a magazine to read. Out of boredom I picked up a huge book, a coffee table type book. As my mind does, it saw codes and more codes ...
After this slight disappointment at Saint Kilda I parked my vehicle in a one-hour park and cycled out to Hawthorn. I was going to let my frustration out at a place called Global Interaction, which as the name says, is into global action. Like the Box Hill Institute, Global interaction is into education, telling the world about Jesus, the most useful, wholesome education anybody can receive!
When I say I wanted to let my frustration out, it wasn't like that, really. I wasn't that frustrated; and an hour's cycling, breathing the fresh air, moving those muscles, does wonders to cure mild disappointment. (More serious cases require extra strategy's, like knee bending exercises).
I had planned to donate some cash to help Global Interaction. Organisations such as theirs were affected negatively, because the Australian Dollar had dropped to a very low level. (And since I had picked up so many coins on the road, it all would work out OK). Except, their basement office, located behind a church on Burwood Road, was not open. I was unable to inject my funds. Instead, before leaving I pumped some extra air into the front tyre of the Giant. As I did, a sudden ... whooosh. I'd lost the lot. No air.
I had a puncture kit, but no spare tube, which was needed, because the valve had snapped. Luckily, somebody informed me that there was a bike shop just around the corner, two minutes walk away. It had an interesting name, more like that of a church - Worship the Journey. The young man was most friendly. He had a new tube fitted in less than 1/2 hour.
I used the wait to go for a walk. Without meaning to do so I picked up something to stick into the diary. If it is golden junk, it was French Golden junk. It's in my diary, right next to a business card of the bicycle shop, shown here:
More finds, in the diary:
Left: Worship the J.
Business card from... a church? No, a bicycle shop. (Story below).
At the back of my diary there is a five-cents coin, harvested in Castlemaine on my journey home. This story will have to wait until the next chapter. A more immediate bombshell, if there was anything left to bombshell my awareness, came early on the morning of writing, Sunday 14.6.09. As is often the case, revelation came in the form of symbols, after my linking brain made a connection.
If this is an illness, if there is medication, which breaks these connection in the brain, I don't want it, thanks. How dull and boring would life be!
How many wonderful discoveries remain inside the brains of unfortunate, outside-the-box thinkers, who have been locked up in mental institutions, forever misunderstood, mistreated, misplaced? I came close!
Really, all I wanted originally was to show my family and friends that I was not suffering from a mental illness, simply because my thinking was different. My dreams were not all rubbish, which needed to be squashed by tablets. No way, many many no no no.
Ten years on - are you not as amazed as I am, how big God is?
The two simple lines of the Christian cross are probably the most widely recognized symbol in the world. What a picture of two symbols, merging to reveal a most wonderful truth.
Friend's it's not the size of your mountain that matters, it is knowing how big our GOD is!
Knowing that nothing is too hard for God is liberating; it's abandoning your own self, losing your own selfish ways, in order to gain everything - Jesus and HIS salvation.
In Austria, I noticed it during an broadcast of Inspector Rex on TV last Thursday - RETTUNG (Emergency First Aid) is available by dialling 144. The German word RETTUNG is translated safety, rescue. In theological terms Rettung means salvation. The cross of Jesus brings salvation!
My discovery this morning came after I saw two names together, both had an u i as 2nd and 3rd letter. Guido I met on Friday 12/6 in church, soon after I had met Joe, a friend from long ago.
The other name was Guillen, the name of the guest speaker on the Hour of Power this morning 14/6.
As if a new door opened, my brain this morning suddenly remembered my Firefox dilemma.
Ever since buying my son's computer I had a few problems. One was the annoying fact that in Internet Explorer the symbols I used on the title pages displayed differently in Firefox than it did in Internet Explorer. (It may have done so all along, but I only noticed it in recent weeks.)
Busy with other important matters I left it, thinking - Uall sounds as good as tall, HearU sounds as good as Heart or Uable is as potent and meaningful than t.able.
What in Explorer was created as a cross and a hand, in Firefox is shows as a U and I.
Place the I above the U it becomes a J.
You and I are in the hand of the ONE who died on the cross.