Wishing I Was Dead

1978.1.31

Two entries in one month. Must be a record. Not like Howie, though. He writes in his journal every night almost. His is loaded with all kinds of stuff. It's more like a scrapbook, with lots of pictures and articles and a daily record of his goal and result and highlights of the day and his general attitude and points of victory or defeat and calculations and graphs. He is really an amazing person.

Before the family he was a heroin addict, but then went into a monastery for a while to mellow out. He is by far the craziest fundraiser one could ever hope to meet. He shows no fear, except at the prospect of not making his goal. He has totally blown away my concepts of fundraising.

One night down on Westheimer in Houston, an area full of rich, snooty people, Howie went into a fancy nightclub -- always a kickout. But he just set his flowers on the bar and started cashing in some change. The manager or somebody came over to kick him out. Howie turned to him and screamed, "Get your fucking hands off me!" The guy fell into a state of shock and then Howie just went around and made a lot of  money. Not the conventional style. Almost every day he performs some miracle.

Also on my team now are Carolyn Chehardy and Roger Balabanno. Together, the three of them, the top three in the region, represent intellect, heart and will, respectively. I feel God has put them together at his time so that they can each gain some substantial victory for this new year, so they might give testimony to the rest of the region. Overall our result has been very good, well over $200 average. On weekends, usually $300 and $400 average.

I am not doing very much fundraising. Just sporadic. Trying to save as much area as possible.

But enough of this external stuff. Internally I am a wreck. If I weren't in the family, I'm sure I would commit suicide. And if I had anyplace to go, I would probably leave. In other words, in case you can't tell, I am utterly miserable.

Satan's accusation comes in waves. I am up and down almost daily. I can't seem to connect to God or True Parents in a substantial way. My relationship with commander is nil, which is the source of my misery, because I loved and trusted him so much. My future to me looks very uncertain.

I think God gave me this present situation of leading Howie, Carolyn and Roger because they don't need so much care. They are strong and determined. I get a lot of strength from them. I feel I have almost nothing to give them. After this competition is over, I am almost afraid to think of what will happen.

I have a base now with some chapter two spirit. It's so hideous to wake up with no control over my body. Sometimes I wish I was dead. But there must be a way out. Though I didn't actually fall, still the accusation is always there. I feel so humiliated and unworthy. If I had any other place to go, I would leave. But I know there is nothing for me anywhere but here. This is my only hope.

I wish I could be confident and strong to comfort God and True Parents, but this internal war has got me stymied. Half of the time I don't know if I'm coming or going. It's really difficult to focus for any length of time.

I did manage to destroy the Grateful Dead and Pink Floyd tapes. I realized I was turning into a literal "rockaholic" and they weren't helping me any. But still there is a lot of garbage clogging the pipes. If any sister should tempt me now, I am finished. I am so desperate for love now that my thoughts easily become cloudy and confused. Without a substantial relationship of love and trust with my central figure, it's almost impossible to keep going. But so far I've managed. How much more or longer I have no idea.

I don't want to fall. I only want to know God and love God and serve God. But the flesh is weak.

Captain Krishnek, Michiyo-san and myself are fasting every day from 12 to 12 and taking cold showers. I wish I could say that I am getting better, but I don't have the confidence to say it. Michiyo said she is worried about me. She is afraid I will leave. She may be right. She keeps warning me indirectly about falling. She said the day I meet someone (a sister) with whom I can share my heart will be a very dangerous time unless the sister is connected to God.

Good luck. I have just got to get it together soon. My situation at the moment --driving Howie, Roger and Carolyn -- is the only thing that keeps me going. If I were to have weaker members, I don't think I could survive. I hate to ask God for help because I want to be a true son and comfort my True Parents, but I am in a jam.

I can't deny that I got myself here, though I can't understand exactly how, but I am at a complete loss as to how to get out. Some temptation will come, some test, I am sure. At the present I am not prepared to go over, though I wish to God I was. At least I don't have any more concepts about the power of strength of a fallen man. Whatever I have that is good, whatever it is, whether it be heart, intellect or will, comes from God. And what is evil comes from Satan.

Perhaps God has put me here so that by uniting with Carolyn and Howie and Roger I might possibly gain the heart, intellect and will I need. All I can do now is try to have faith and endure and give whatever I have for God's purpose.

There must be some powerful restoration going on. I just hope I can make it to the end without falling. God help me.

Turn the page: MFT: Kansas City

Michiyo

1978.1.2

After almost two years in this region, I have finally landed a team in Houston. I am not sure at this moment of just exactly how things stand. I have been fighting hard to beat an enemy I can't see.

One of my biggest breakthroughs came yesterday when I stopped looking at the external situation, which is to say hate and resentment instead of love and forgiveness. I guess you could say I could see my sin as well. It's still too close to be very objective, but I feel that I must unite the past, present and future. In other words, I must clearly understand where I am coming from, correctly analyze where I am in the present,  in order to go forward toward the goal of the future.

Anyway, before I get too lost in that I will just say I am sub-captain to Larry Krishnek in Houston and surrounding area with Roger Balabano, Howie Comis, Wade Jones, and eight sisters, including Beverly from my last team, and Michiyo Fujita, who is the Japanese team mother.

She first came to my team in Lubbock, when she first came to this region from Mr. Tsujimura's region in Florida, and it was to her that I laid bare my heart. By her inspiration we did a three-day fast before God's Day, to try to lay some foundation for victory. She called Mr. Suwamaki and he said I must write him and tell him the details of my ordeal, but it was so difficult. Finally I managed to get it done. I just hope I didn't saying anything damning anyone. I just want victory.

Turn the page: Wishing I Was Dead

Lost in the Wilderness Without a Compass

1977.12.19

At long last I feel victory is within my grasp. I am not out of the tunnel yet, but I can see daylight ahead. I don't think I will ever be the same.

The difference between a cult and a religion is that the former is centered on a personality or personalities, while the latter is centered on truth. I realize I need the truth in the worst way, and I must educate my members to anchor themselves to the truth. If we are not, then there is no guarantee that we will not fall away. If we are simply united with a personality, then as long as that person is centered on truth then everything is fine.

But what if that person begins to behave in an unprincipled or untruthful way? If we don't know the truth in our hearts ourselves, then we may easily be dragged down to hell, even though it would not be our desire or intention. Without truth, passion is more powerful than reason. We must know the Divine Principle and center all of our actions on accomplishing God's will.

We always have three choices when faced with some difficulty: flight, fright or fight. We can leave and change our external situation, although nothing is really resolved; or we can fall into fear and pull down others with us; or we can arm ourselves with the truth and fight until we get victory.

I feel the worst is almost over, but I must be careful not to let Satan invade in the end.

Turn the page: Michiyo

Into the Abyss

1977.12.17

Yesterday was even worse than the day before. I woke up completely depressed. Never have I been so unhappy since my life in the church. Unable to pray, I feel I was forced or driven to the truth, to the Divine Principle. I read a little bit of chapter two, then fell asleep.

But when I woke up I felt much better. I began reading again. Then I realized that it is the truth that sets us free. I felt I had received liberation from the hell I had experienced these last three days. The Divine Principle is my Abel.

I haven't completely recovered from the shock of the experience yet, as I am still relying somewhat heavily on the Grateful Dead to soften the pain. But still I know my salvation is in knowing and uniting with the truth. If God will give me a little more time to steady myself, I think I'll make it.

Turn the page: Lost in the Wilderness Without a Compass

This Is Where It Gets Bad

1977.12.15

Almost two months since my last entry I see. I wonder if I can put down everything that happened in these last two months. Usually works best when I start at the present and then move back, or rather look back, and then sometimes try to project ahead.

At the moment I am sitting in a motel room in Midland, Texas, No. 37 at the Motel 6, for what it's worth, and I am half-listening to Pink Floyd's "Dark Side of the Moon," which I bought yesterday along with the new Grateful Dead, called "Terrapin Station," which is really excellent.

But what am I doing buying tapes like that, one might ponder? As a matter of fact, I am pondering this myself. That is, what drove me to make this entry? Well, I guess first off I still have a deep connection to the music of these two groups, the Grateful Dead in general and "Dark Side of the Moon" in particular, something I haven't quite been able to put my finger on -- yet. But why this sudden search for roots when just a few days ago I was just another MFT captain leading a team, trying to unite them to God and True Parents and commander in some unspecified way? Well, let's see.

We began as a team of eight, with five sisters and three brothers, including myself, and the first week of competition went pretty good with a couple days up around $200 average. One day I drove 1,000 miles doing small towns south of San Angelo. I made the first drop off at 3:30 a.m.

I had a really good talk with one of the sisters, Beverly. I asked her what she thought the team needed. She said her experience as a pioneer in South Dakota was that people were competing with each other without loving each other -- in other words, there was some jealousy, which made us feel separate. She also said, and I'll never forget this as long as I live, I feel it was God who spoke: "There is a qualitative difference between saying 'I'll do this and you follow' and 'Let's do this thing together.'" I was awestruck by her wisdom.

A little while later we went to Killeen, Texas. Commander came to see us. We also had a very good day. Since then, however, the team has been declining, and it's been difficult to know just exactly what to do. So after one day when we had a $40 average, I felt compelled to say something at least. The day before I had been with commander and Peter Spoto in Dallas and they spoke a lot about the jealous nature of sisters and how to deal with it. So while we were traveling I spoke to the sisters about the blessing and jealousy, but except for Beverly, no one would receive my words and they became quite resentful. Also, one of my brothers just about quit fundraising altogether, then one of the sisters sort of ran away.

Miraculously, commander came to see us and promised to speak strongly to us. Then the sister who ran away reappeared, but she was very unhappy and still wanted to leave. So commander took her and the brother who had quit fundraising back to Dallas with him. Before he left, commander spoke to us about the evil history of Texas, especially the failures within our family. Commander said he finally realized the reason he had come to Texas was because he knew the history of Texas. At that point I was completely committed to supporting commander and I felt totally united with him.

Without going into details, my attitude was severely tested in a way I would have never expected. I was shocked, disgusted, confused, disappointed and I felt I had been killed.

So quite simply I am trying to recover because I want to keep going and get victory. God works through central figure no matter what. God will test us with another person's fallen nature. We can get victory by "going over" -- conquering -- the feelings of hate and resentment and being more concerned with that person's eternal life than our own.

We must completely forgive each other of our sins and really work to support each other to unite with God. If I can go over, this victory is mine.

Turn the page: Into the Abyss

Guess Who's Coming to Dallas--Again

1977.10.9

I am on a jet back to Dallas right at this moment. I spent the weekend in Delaware with the folks for a rare but brief visit. It was good to see them, but also somewhat boring. Things haven't changed a bit. I had no desire to see any old friends like Greg or  Leslie, and I probably wouldn't have been able to find them if I had wanted to. My past is behind me and I just want to keep moving forward, closer and closer to God. It will be good to get back to the team.

Miraculously, True Parents came to see us in Dallas on October 6 and stayed overnight and left the next morning. Father spoke for close to six hours. I managed to get a lot of it down on paper.

The whole day before, on the 5th, my team worked all day at the center preparing for them. It involved moving everyone's personal belongings out into our little warehouse, leaving the house almost completely empty. We also bought a bedroom set, but first we rented a carpet cleaner and steam-cleaned the carpet. Mike Joyce said he had done it before so we let him do it. It was amazing how dirty the carpet really was, and how much brighter it got. It was actually a pretty pale blue-lavender.

Because of my experience with painting, I took responsibility to paint the master bathroom. I took the top of the toilet tank, which was a shade of lavender similar to the carpet, and they matched the color exactly at the paint store. I spent all day and most of the evening painting. The final thing I had to do was repair some loose tiles on the step into the shower. When I was finally done it was nearly 3 a.m. and everyone else had gone to bed. I was so tired I couldn't wait to lie down.

I had a dream of Father. He looked exhausted. He handed me an old-fashioned pistol, the kind pirates used. On the handle were the Greek letters for alpha and omega, the "A" laying inside the omega. I woke up more refreshed than I had felt in ages.

That day Father spoke to us briefly about himself as a young man. He said he experienced everything we do. The only difference is that we have a leader or someone we could turn to. Then he said that we might say that he had God, but he said God drove him mercilessly because throughout human history people only loved God when God was nice. But Father had to establish the tradition of loving God even if God were a merciless tyrant, because God wanted to establish one absolute standard of perfection, one absolute man of perfection, one absolute standard of love by which the world could be judged.

I often think of myself as fighting the dark forces alone, holding some type of sword or something but it is still bulky and awkward for me to use. But the thought inspires some flame of righteousness, some feeling of nobility.

Turn the page: This Is Where It Gets Bad

A Few Words

1977.10.2

Just a few words so I don't fall too far behind in this.

Turn the page: Guess Who's Coming to Dallas--Again

Be Humble and Obey

1977.9.10

For the last month I have been leading half of Tony's team. It certainly is not as easy as fundraising. I try to take care of my members as best I can, I even try to fundraise as much as I can, but I am under almost constant accusation because I am responsible for everyone, and they don't usually do so well.

Right at this time we are in Dallas, but our area is still West Texas. We thought we would let it cool off a little bit, since we just did it for competition. We are in another competition, back to back with the first one.

A new system has been devised. All the members are numbered according to their average. The top quarter is the A Team, the second quarter is the B Team, which is Tony's, and so on. The best with the best and the worst with the worst. The A Team is really crushing away in South Texas.

Nancy Breyfogle, Richard Panzer and Tim Folzenlogen are off to seminary. In Nancy's place as secretary is a sister from Oakland named Virginia Mabry. Recently she and I developed some disunity problem. Among other things, it seems she didn't like my driving, and I get the feeling she might have multiplied negative feelings among some of the sisters. Anyway, last night Commander yelled at me for driving too fast. I wanted to protest but he told me not to and just be humble.

Earlier in the day I had called Virginia for any messages and I sort of mentioned that one of her comments to Tony about our team result had really hurt Tony and she got all upset. I don't know what she said, but I got yelled at for that too and was told I had to apologize to her, which I did, but still I am feeling somewhat falsely accused, or maybe unreasonably accused. I must overcome and see this situation from God's pont of view. It's hard to admit you're wrong when you really don't see that you're wrong.

I am sure it is just my fallen nature that is keeping me from seeing this. I must conclude this whole episode is a test from God so I can overcome my fallen nature, but it ain't easy.

I am somewhat worried about my parents. I haven't written to them in a while. Even so, when I do write I can only tell them that I am fine, etc. Last time I gave them my testimony. My father doesn't write. I don't know if he is upset or whether he just lets my mother communicate for him. I have a feeling they think I hate them and that is the reason I won't come home to see them. Also, I think they feel that if I have to be kidnapped in order for them to see me, then it's not worth it.

I am going through some deeper struggles than before, but I know that it is good because through it I will overcome my fallen nature and become perfected.

Turn the page: 1977.10.2

Can't Argue with Results

1977.7.31

This week has been very good for me. Fundraising from a wheelchair has been a stimulating change. Every day I have been in front of small stores like Safeway or TG&Y or Furr's. Friday I made $276 and Saturday $306. I even blitzed in my chair a little.

I know many people are giving because they think I'm handicapped, and I'm not saying anything to make them think different. When someone asks me why I'm in a wheelchair, I tell them the truth. I tell them I have a problem with my legs that makes it hard for me to be on my feet. But most people don't ask, and I know the vast majority assume I can't walk.

I've discovered it's incredibly easy to do a wheelie. I can pop the little front wheels off the ground and hold it like that indefinitely. I have no fear of falling over backward. Little kids love it.

It's hard being in a wheelchair too. I get tired of sitting and being in the same spot all day. I want to get up and move around. I miss the change of scenery. But I can't get up. If anyone sees me stand up, even just to stretch, they'll know I don't really need a wheelchair.

That's the irony. I'm not crippled, but do need a wheelchair. I can't do my mission right now without it. I hate the deception, but I'm only doing it because I have to. If I could run around on my feet all day, I would.

No one on the team seems to care, especially Tony. Our team is getting good results for a change. That's what matters.

Turn the page: 1977.9.10

How I Roll

1977.7.26

Today was a very unique day. I used a wheelchair. It's because I've been so exhausted lately. I start out strong, and then after a couple hours my legs just quit. So I have to stop and rest for longer and longer periods of the time. It makes be feel bad, that I'm not working hard enough, but I just don't have the energy. The combination of the exhaustion and the guilt make me depressed, and that's probably the main reason my result keeps going down.

My legs have been giving me problems ever since I came to MFT. They ache all the time now. Sometimes the pain is so bad I can hardly sleep, even though I'm so tired. But up until now I've been able to keep going.

Tony says I need a rest. Today he rented a wheelchair from a medical supply place. At first I was horrified, because I'm not a cripple. But he said it would be for a higher purpose because it would allow me to keep fundraising without getting wiped out. He said the wheelchair isn't permanent. Just a few days, maybe a week or so, until my strength returns.

I decided to give it a try. I made $187. The team average was $123, the first time it's been that high in a while.

Turn the page: Can't Argue with Results

Knock Down, Build Up

1977.7.22

I am not likely to forget today. I can't remember ever having such a difficult time. My goal was $200. I made $53.

First I was dropped off at a Safeway, but after a short time Bruce showed up because he'd been KO'd from his lot. So I gave him the Safeway and went to another area Tony told me about. But when I got there John was there, so I went even farther down the strip, but the area was dead.

So I tried to catch a ride to Kmart, but my ride was short and I ended up in some industrial area. Carolyn had done most of it a couple days earlier. After a long wait I finally got a ride to Kmart, but by this time I was utterly exhausted, so I stopped for lunch. As I was eating, Carolyn appeared on the Kmart lot. So I headed off for yet another parking lot.

As I was walking down the street I suddenly stopped in front of a motel, which I finally recognized as the one we were staying at. Peeking around the corner I saw the van, so I went up to the room and Tony, who was doing the books, let me in. I told him how everywhere I'd been already had another fundraiser from our team working it, so he told me to take a nap.

After a short rest, Tony took me to a small food store in town and left me for the rest of the day. He told me I could do the drive-in I got rained out of last night. After a while I caught a ride out there and did an apartment complex. It was pretty poor, but many people gave something.

As I finished the apartments it was getting dark and the drive-in was beginning to fill up. I was very tired, so I drank a quart of orange juice, which made me feel better. But as I got to the drive-in, Mike was just leaving, having just completed the whole thing. My heart sank. All of my hopes of making any kind of result were gone.

Later I saw Tony and he picked me up. Both he and Michael began to praise me for persevering, so I couldn't feel negative. I got out to fundraise one last time, and then when we all met together Tony gave testimony to me in front of team, praising me for my effort and trustability in a difficult situation.

Turn the page: How I Roll

Chillin' at KFC

1977.7.21

Slight improvement today over yesterday, $124. I really worked hard. I ran all day, just focused on my goal, no give-and-take with the usual distractions. Just my offering of faith.

Tonight began well. I did some Mexican apartments on the outskirts of town. On the horizon, across the desert to the west, the sky was very dark. A big storm was coming. I went to fundraise a drive-in and a torrential downpour began, with lightning all around. Hardly anyone gave.

I didn't care about being wet except I got pretty cold. I caught a ride back to my pickup spot, but it was really dead. I was getting really cold, so I spent 45 minutes in the bathroom of Kentucky Fried Chicken because it was the only warm place. When I came out the rain had stopped.

I kept fundraising, but Carolyn beat me by $6.

Turn the page: Knock Down, Build Up

The Vise Tightens

1977.7.20

Today we were in San Angelo, Texas. I made $115. Yesterday I made $78 in Austin.

Commander came to our team tonight. He said in the past we could hide behind great external goals like Madison Square Garden, Yankee Stadium and Washington Monument. But now it has come down to the individual -- me and my sin. If we failed individually in the past but gained victory as a whole, then we didn't need to feel like we failed. But now our goals are completely individual. If I don't make my goal now, I'm not facing my fallen nature or overcoming my sin.

Commander said that God gave Noah a goal to build the ark to certain specifications and then Noah didn't hear from God again. Likewise, Father has given us a goal of $120 net average. That means $120 average after all expenses for food, gas and lodging. So really our gross average goal is more like $150.

He went on to say that at this time God is not helping us but has given us this test to see who are the true children of God and who belong to Satan. At the point of responsibility, God does not interfere. Many are tempted to go the easy way of sin because that is the way Adam and Eve went. Already many people are receiving temptation and questioning seriously the Divine Principle and if Sun Myung Moon is indeed the messiah.

Two days ago a brother on our team almost fell. I think it was because of that that commander came. But also because our team average has dropped way down. Yesterday our average was $66. Today was better, $93.

Turn the page: Chillin' at KFC

Not Feeling It

1977.7.18

Today was my first day back on Tony's team in Austin. I made $125. I was attacked by waves of resentment during the evening in the parking lot. I must learn to overcome this resentment. In my heart I don't want to forgive the people for their negativity and refusing to give, but I know they will accuse me in spirit world if I don't.

Turn the page: The Vise Tightens

Spiritual Logjam

1977.7.17

Linda and I are on a Greyhound headed to Austin to join Tony's team. Even before commander told me of the change, I knew it was coming. I had been leading a team for the past month out of the center. We didn't get any great crushing victories, but I felt a wonderful unity developing. I spent a lot of time mapping out area in Dallas, really trying to unite with commander and set a high standard.

I miss the center so much. I miss Mother Serenity, whose son Paul is in the church, and her health food breakfasts and lunches. I miss Challenge, the German shepherd puppy that commander bought. Every night we would come home and Challenge, who's about six months old, and I would play in the yard. No matter how badly the world treats you, a dog is always happy to see you. He reminded me of Ailsa, the German shepherd I had when we were kids in Dover.

Sometimes early in the morning, before dawn, commander, Tony and I would get up and go fishing for an hour at Grapevine Lake, which is right at the back of our property.

One time we had to go recover $1,000 from a brother named George, who stole it from Captain Hernandez. It was such an evil condition. I wonder if George is even still alive.

But I feel I am a spiritual logjam in Grapevine. I need a new challenge. Howie is coming to stay at the center to support commander and fundraise from there.

I love Texas.

Turn the page: Not Feeling It

Too Young, Too Dark, Too Soon

1977.6.6

I've been living at the MFT center in Grapevine with Commander and Darold Turrock's team. It's been a terrible struggle.

I pushed myself while fundraising here in Dallas, but the other day I made less than $50. Everyone else did much better. I finally stopped and prayed and asked God for help. Linda flashed through my mind, and I heard a voice say: "Too young, too dark, too soon."

Today I only made $34. As soon as I got back in the van, Mark Hernandez, the team captain, was attacked by sleep spirits. When he looked at my total he hit me. I know I deserved it, but I don't know what to do.

Linda is still out on another team. She has been doing extremely well every day.

Turn the page: Spiritual Logjam

The Real McCoy

1977.5.23

National MFT has been reorganized again. My team's area is West Texas. We also have a new commander, W. I think he's younger than me physically but slightly older spiritually. Until now I'd never heard of him. He has a very "bookish" appearance," not someone I would think of as an MFT type. He reminds me of my Uncle Bill. I like him very much.

What happened is that our other commander, Larry Glasner, who took over the region about six weeks ago, broke his toe at a commanders' meeting and it became aggravated to the point about a week ago that it wasn't going to heal without an operation. So he arranged with his father, who is a wealthy doctor in Beverly Hills, to have the surgery done for free.

But now his parents won't turn him loose or let anyone communicate with him. No one has said anything officially, but it looks to me like Mr. Glasner was kidnapped and is probably undergoing deprogramming as we speak. Otherwise New York would not have installed a new commander in our region.

I am leading a small team in West Texas: Jackie Lott, Linda McCoy and David Adams. Linda and I formed an instant bond. She's very cute, with blond hair bobbed short like most of the sisters. Unlike a lot of sisters, short hair looks good on her. She seems very sincere about uniting with me as her Abel. She listens to what I say and shows me a lot of respect in front of the other members, even calling me "Captain," even though I'm really not. Every day she has had good results and makes an honest effort to report her experiences. I feel her unity with me will be the foundation to build a strong team.

In my year or so on MFT, this kind of relationship has been the most consistent factor in a successful team. If the dominate sister on the team -- someone in the position of mother or Eve -- is united with the Captain (Adam/Abel), the rest of the team prospers. This cannot be a phony relationship. The sister has to genuinely feel a bond with the Abel figure, from the heart not the head. In the fallen world it would be called a crush or being in love, but here it has a deeper significance. We're restoring the fall, so relationships between men and women must be restored from boyfriend and girlfriend to brother and sister. The emotion is the same, but the way that love is expressed it pure and wholesome and without sin.

I can tell Linda likes me, and she can tell I like her. We don't have to say anything. Since we both know Principle, we know we won't let our emotions get carried away and fall. We will use the affection between us to raise up the entire team. It's a struggle, but a nice one. Love feels good.

Commander came to visit our team. I could tell right away he liked the unity of our team, which has been reflected in the team's results. We're a small but happy group, ready and willing to work hard for heaven. As a treat, commander took us to Carlsbad Caverns in New Mexico and we spent the day walking through the cavern, and in the evening we watched the bats come out. Then we went out for a steak dinner.

A couple days later I was summoned to Dallas for a captains' meeting. Commander told us MFT was now in the perfection stage, meaning our unity as a true family would attract monetary results like iron filings to a magnet. Then he took us to a Japanese tea garden in Fort Worth where we walked and talked some more and finally went out to dinner at a Chinese restaurant.

Turn the page: Too Young, Too Dark, Too Soon

Broadway Joe: Pass Interference

1977.3.25

A lot of really strange things happened today. I don't know any other way to put it.

First of all, one of my favorite sisters, Debbie Koerner, left today. She managed to get into the apartment to get her things and split. Then our brand new van got smashed up and broken into.

Tonight, while Donna and I were fundraising in the French Quarter some man was shot and killed right outside the bar we were in. To get away from the chaos, I went down Bourbon Street to a nightclub. I knew I couldn't get inside, so I just waiting by the door. Just then Joe Namath came out.

He was wearing a fur coat and had an attractive brunette with a death grip on his bicep. They were both really drunk and could hardly stand up. Joe looked at me and I asked him if he wanted to buy some flowers. He automatically started reaching for his wallet but the lady just hissed at me and said, "Ah doh WAN enny!"

Joe seemed kind of confused about what he should do. He was really unsteady on his feet, and the woman hanging on him wasn't helping his balance. She kept tugging on his arm, weaving back and forth, pleading in a thick, slurred drawl: "C'mon Zhoe, lesh go! C'mon Zhoe, lesh go!" Joe kind of blinked and found me long enough in his focus to shrug his shoulders as if to say, "Sorry, kid." I was about to press him again when Joe's bodyguard stepped between us and told me to forget it.

Then Donna and I went over to wait for the van in front of the Marriott Hotel, and Reid from Oakland, who had been kidnapped and deprogrammed more than a year ago, just casually walked up. He acted very friendly, asked me how I was doing. Later in the van it made me feel uneasy, like Reid had been looking for me and it wasn't just some coincidence. I started to think maybe Reid was sent to kidnap me. 

Commander Hayashi was moved to California. We're getting a new commander. His name is Larry Glasner.

Turn the page: The Real McCoy

Howie Comis

1977.2.20

Tomorrow is the last day of competition and right now I am doing the brothers' laundry. This competition has been fairly difficult, nor have I been fundraising every day.

The last few days of January I spent doing PR work in several towns, including Alexandria, which has been our greatest problem permission-wise. I took my direction from Steven Schutte, my old team captain in Colorado before Captain Yasuda. Steven had been doing permission work here in Louisiana since the beginning of the year, and I took over from him as there are a lot police problems in the state, one of the worst in the country.

At first I didn't know what I was supposed to do, but eventually I caught on. Basically, the problem is that there are no ordinances in most places against fundraising, nor should there be as it is our constitutional right under the first amendment to fundraise. But almost every town is negative toward the church so they won't grant us permission, which means if we fundraise and they get a complaint, they will arrest us. Even if the case gets thrown out in court, since we didn't actually break any laws, they just want to discourage us from coming to their towns.

So somehow we -- I -- must persuade them to grant us the right to fundraise without harassment. I traveled around by myself for a couple weeks in a small rental car, an AMC Pacer, and went town to town, talking to the city managers, mayors, city attorneys, chiefs of police -- anyone in authority who could give us permission, and then try to get it in writing.

At night I would fundraise parking lots. Lately we've been selling keychains, with clear plastic bulbs filled with fluid and tiny arrangements of dried flowers. They're really quite pretty and easy to sell. They're not nearly as bulky or heavy to carry around as candy or candles or even flowers. The Eagles have a new song on the radio called "Hotel California" that I really like. One night I had it playing in my head as I ran around selling keychains, and the song made me feel really good. I made a lot of money that night.

I love the line from that song, "You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave." That perfectly describes the church. Outsiders think the church is a place or physical thing that someone can walk away from. It's not. It's a way of thinking, a belief system. I can be hundreds of miles away from members and church centers and it doesn't matter. I carry the church around in my head.

One of the towns I got permission in was Lake Charles. I drove the team there and as I had agreed with the police chief a couple weeks earlier, I registered our names with the police department when we came to town. I guess they knew they couldn't stop us legally, but they had some other tricks. On our second morning in town, the Beaumont Enterprise newspaper carried a front page story titled, "Moonies Soliciting in Lake Charles." It wasn't so bad. At least they gave us credit as a legitimate organization. The local radio also had some reports about us being in town, so we encountered a great deal of negativity.

But we didn't get arrested. I've come to learn that we must take responsibility for the people's negativity. It is not their fault. It's our fault. It's up to us to fix it.

Richard Ehrlich from Oakland, whom I hadn't seen since Yankee Stadium, came to our team. He fundraised for a few days and then became captain of the challenge team, which were the high sellers challenging to made new records. One night we were blitzing Lafayette and Richard never came to pick us up. Turned out he had run the van off the road and had a pretty bad wreck and broke his back. He was operated on in New Orleans yesterday, but we haven't heard anything else.

One of our top sellers is a brother named Howard Comis. I've never met anyone else like him in the church. He is Italian and has an incredible sense of humor. In school he must have been the class clown. He's always doing Daffy Duck and Porky Pig impressions that are hilarious. Even when he's dead serious, he has an expression on his face that makes you want to smile and laugh.

One night after we were done fundraising we were having unison prayer in the van and Howie was sitting next to Roger, one of the most humble and pleasant and intelligent brothers you'd ever want to meet. Everyone was so serious in their prayer, thanking God for the fundraising result they had made, offering the money to heaven.

Howie suddenly blurted out really loud, "Heavenly Father, please forgive Roger for his fallen nature. He doesn't realize how obnoxious and evil he is and how he's dragging down the entire team. Amen." We all started laughing and couldn't stop for a long time. We laughed so hard we were crying. Howie had that effect on everyone, everywhere he went. No matter how much the rest of the team was struggling, Howie could always cheer everyone up. And Howie always made a lot of money. He was like the perfect member.

Turn the page: Broadway Joe: Pass Interference

Guess Who's Coming to Dallas

 1977.1.17

True Parents came to the Dallas MFT center yesterday.

Gary Page and I were fundraising the dormitories at Louisiana Tech in Ruston, but I got kicked out twice almost right away. I was walking outside and Tony drove by, yelling frantically to me that Father was coming to Dallas. We quickly found everyone and drove to Shreveport, where we took a plane to Dallas. We arrived about half an hour after Father had begun speaking.

Father and Mother were sitting on the sofa. It was the most intimate I had ever experienced. There were relatively few people: Louisiana MFT, Texas MFT and the recently formed International One World Crusade (IOWC) team, which was fundraising in Dallas.

Father spoke about love and how sisters are more heartistic and generally one step ahead of brothers, therefore brothers, as archangels, should follow the example of sisters as Eve to come back to Adam. Father said that it was our love for him which made it impossible for anyone outside the church to understand us. Finally he explained that our purpose is to save the people, educate the people, and establish the heavenly tradition. Someday Father wants to take several thousand IOWC members to Korea and restore all of Korea in one day.

After Father spoke we had our picture taken with him. Somehow I managed to sit right next to Mother.

After they left, Commander Hayashi was very upset that no one had taped Father's speech because it was a historical, important event. Later he said it was good that our team made it to see Father because it reflected unity with Captain Hernandez, which God was able to work through to bring us to see True Parents.

Lately when I'm out fundraising and people ask me about the church, I've been telling them that the second coming has happened, that the messiah is alive and on the Earth, and that Father is the messiah.

Turn the page: Howie Comis

Another Year Older

1977.1.14

We are in Monroe, Louisiana, where we have permission but somehow Mike Joyce and Ray Sabo got arrested at $500 bond each.

I kept meeting crazy Christians. Nothing came of those encounters and I won't waste the space in this book to put down their ideas. Suffice to say they didn't really want to listen to anything.

My 23rd birthday came and went without event. Captain gave me a Bible. Reading it brings me a lot of comfort.

Turn the page: Guess Who's Coming to Dallas

The Crossroads

1977.1.1.

We are in Dallas with all the other teams to celebrate God's Day and to have a Divine Principle workshop for the next few days. Tonight we received autographed pictures of Father, which we won for the November competition, for which I had a $190 average. I finished the December competition with a $263 average, and also broke my record with $451.

I made it selling candles down on the bayou, $3 each and two for $5. The candles were brandy snifters filled with scented wax, made by brothers and sisters at a factory in New York. It was a big business for the holidays. Candles were the perfect MFT product before Christmas. Teams everywhere made huge results with candles.

I was fortunate enough to be in one of the best fundraising areas in all of America: the Louisiana bayou. It is a deeply Catholic area, filled with simple, hardworking Cajun folk. All you have to say is "church" and they give you money, even if it leaves them broke. I've never met any people like them. They want to give. Cajuns, Catholics, Christmas, candles -- it was almost impossible not to make a big result.

A few weeks ago I was fasting and went up to a house and a man was grilling huge venison steaks on the grill in the car port. I told him I was selling candles for my church and he insisted I stop and eat with them. He called his family and they all came outside. They acted like I was a saint or holy person. Over and over they begged me to stay and eat with them. I explained I was fasting and could not, but they were so earnest. It broke my heart to turn them down, because I saw how much it meant to them to aid a stranger, especially a man of God. It was part of their code, their belief structure. But I was resolute. They finally relented and let me go, but I could see how disappointed they were. As was I. The grilled venison smelled phenomenal.

A full case of candles was very heavy to carry, and I had to constantly shift them from one hip to the other. It was also difficult to run with them, but I pushed myself.

There was a technique to selling candles. All of the candles were turned upright, so the bright color of the wax was most visible. But one I would turn over so I could easily take it out of the box by the glass stem. I would gently scratch the wax with my fingernail to release the sweet scent and then put it up to a person's nose and invite them to smell. 

Late one night I got dropped off in the middle of nowhere, a crossroads far from anything. It was totally dark all around. The only things in sight were an all-night gas station and, across the highway, a juke joint. It was packed. I went inside the bar with my box of candles.

I surveyed the room of black faces. I was the only white person, but that wasn't unusual. I fundraised black bars all the time. But the vibe here was different. It wasn't good.

A few weeks earlier I had felt the same bad vibe at a black strip club in New Orleans. It was so dark inside I could hardly see, with only a small spotlight up on the stage where a young girl was completely naked. But I never looked at naked bodies. Not even the magazine covers in porn shops. I always kept my eyes on the people I was going to fundraise to so Satan would not have a foundation to attack me.

I worked my way around the strip club and came to a booth where I could barely make out a large black man. I approached him with my candles, but he pulled a small pistol out of his jacket pocket and put the barrel up my nostril and said very firmly to walk away. I glanced down. He was getting a blowjob. I slowly backed away and left.

All my instincts told me the juke joint I just walked into was not a good place for young white boy like myself to be in the wee hours of the morning, all by himself. I don't think anyone would have cared if I had come in there to drink and listen to music. But a white kid trying to sell something to black folks in the middle of the night tended to get some people irritated. I had faced those fears too many times to count and pushed them aside. I made my way to the back of the room so I could work my way toward the door. Every eye in the place was on me, but I tried to ignore it.

Some guys were sitting in the back corner and I asked them if they wanted to buy a candle. One guy took a candle out, looked at it, and then put it back and said, "Nah." I went through the whole place and didn't sell a thing. I went outside and looked at my box. A candle was missing. Immediately I knew what had happened. The guy who had taken the candle and put it back, didn't really put it back. He had held onto it and I hadn't noticed.

It was foolish, and I knew it, but I was determined to get the candle back. I went back inside and went straight to the table in the back corner.

"Wadda you want, bitch?"

"Give me my candle back."

The guy looked at my like I must have had some kind of death wish. "I ain't got yo damn candle."

"Yes you do. You pretended to put it back in my box and then took it. I want it back."

"Get the fuck outta my face, white boy."

"No. I'll leave when you give me my candle or pay for it."

"Yo is about to get fucked up."

"I don't care. Give me my candle."

The bartender was watching the whole thing. I guess the last thing he needed was some white kid getting murdered inside his establishment. "Aw man, give him his candle back. You had yo fun."

The guy thought about it a second and then reached behind him and pulled the candle out and slammed it on the table. "Get the fuck out here, you skinny ass honky motherfucker." All his friends thought this was hilarious.

I grabbed the candle, stuck it in my box, and left the bar.

Outside there were seven or eight guys waiting for me. They immediately surrounded me and started pawing at the box of candles. I pulled the cardboard flaps over the candles and held it to my chest, but I knew if they wanted to they could take the whole box and there was nothing I could do. Of course, they didn't care about the candles. The target was me.

They were waiting for me to run, or possibly try to fight. That's all they wanted. I knew I'd be on the ground in a heartbeat and I'd likely get stomped to death. I honestly felt I was going to die right then and there at that desolate crossroads.

I had only one option. I looked at the light at the gas station across the highway and started walking. I didn't turn or look back or anything. I just fixed my gaze on the light and walked toward it. My ring of tormenters let me pass. I expected at any moment to be tackled or hit with a brick or something. But nothing happened and I just kept walking toward the light.

I heard them jeer and call me names and laugh, but I dared not turn around. That's what they wanted me to do. That would have triggered it. I realized nothing was going to happen as long as I just looked forward and kept walking. I made it to the gas station, went inside, and waited for pickup.

I recently read in "Master Speaks" where Mother said Father loves us so much that their own children are jealous. I looked at Father's autograph in my hands. Getting this photograph nearly cost me my life.

Turn the page: Another Year Older

Danger: Entering Lunatic Fringe

1976.12.5

I was struggling very much, going door to door. I finally gave up and stopped. I sat down and let my mind space out, trying not to think of anything.

An angry voice came into my head.

"What's wrong with you? You are so arrogant. All though history I've taken total responsibility for everything. Only Sun Myung Moon has never asked me for my help. He has determined to gain victory at any price. His only concern is to comfort me."

What about Jesus? I asked.

"I will not speak to you about Jesus. The truth is more than you could bear. Sun Myung Moon is so humble. He has sacrificed everything for my sake, and still he feels he has not done enough. He is always worrying about paying enough indemnity. Your sin is greater than the people's sin. You have full knowledge that you are sinning, whereas they are ignorant of the truth and sin out of ignorance. They are more in a position to be forgiven."

The voice paused a minute. I was certain I was not imagining it because I was having my own thoughts at the same time. Then it continued.

"Whether you like or not and whether you believe it or not, I am holding you personally responsible for the spiritual lives of all these people. You are only thinking of your own salvation and your own glory. You are not thinking about loving the people."

I got up to go back to work.

"Run."

I started running, but my feet hurt from blisters.

"Maybe I should take your feet away."

I wondered how I was going to make my goal by 7 o'clock.

"Forget about stopping. Determine to make the goal even if you have to go for eternity."

When the van came, I didn't tell anyone about the voice. We went out to dinner and to a movie called "Two Minute Warning." It depicted the Last Days in the guise of a sniper at a capacity crowd championship football game. It was really heavy.

Turn the page: The Crossroads

Ray's Theory on Black Holes

1976.11.26

I really don't know who I am. There are the lies that Satan has told me all my life, which make up my ego, and there is my true self, which perfectly resembles God but that I don't know at all. It is still hidden beneath all my sin, screaming to be liberated.

Three days ago, the 23rd, was Children's Day. Everyone met at a country club in the hills in upstate Texas. We spent the whole day playing volleyball and soccer and frisbee and running races and just being in love with each other.

Afterward we went out for pizza. I was talking to Raymond Hoffman, who told me his theory about black holes in the universe and the Second Law of Thermodynamics in light of the Divine Principle.

Raymond said black holes are places in the universe that are like a leak in a balloon. All energy that comes into the field of a black hole is sucked in and nothing can escape. No light, no heat, nothing. Raymond believes black holes are where evil spirits have congregated and greedily rob energy from the universe.

He says this explains the Second Law of Thermodynamics, which basically says that energy in the universe runs downhill. In other words, the universe is slowly losing power. Raymond believes all of this is a result of man's fall. Creation was perfect and was only waiting for man to fulfill his portion of responsibility and become lord of creation, to love and appreciate and use creation as it was intended.

But because of the fall, the purpose of creation was nullified and creation has been deteriorating or dying from want of true love. Like the Bible says: "Creation groans in travail waiting for the revealing of the sons of God."

Turn the page: Danger: Entering Lunatic Fringe

MFT Ringers

1976.10.31

Today was the last day of the 40-day period of pentecost following Washington Monument. It was also a Sunday, traditionally a day of not so high result. We usually only fundraise half a day on Sunday and then go out to dinner and see a movie. But during competition, like now, we fundraise all day no matter how slow it is. I made $132 going door-to-door in an apartment complex, so it was a pretty decent result for a Sunday.

Richard Panzer and Nancy Breyfogel, two of the highest sellers on the national MFT, have come to be with our team for a week. It's a real blessing to be around such powerful fundraisers, a chance to pick up some tips on how to tap into God's heart so we can make big results too.

Right now I'm struggling to see the difference between a good day of fundraising and a not so good day, because a lot of times I feel the same internally. Or to put it another way, I've done really well on days when I felt totally spaced out and disunited and had no enthusiasm or energy. And I've done really poorly on days when I felt deeply connected to God and I had a lot of energy and determination to crush. I know that fundraising is all spiritual, I've had too many spiritual experiences to deny that, but I don't understand why it still seems like most of the time it's just a question of area. Some places are good for fundraising no matter who does it, and some places are impossible.

And then there are people like Richard and Nancy, who can crush anywhere, even places where no one else can get any result. It's presumed that our team average will go up sharply because they are here.

I asked Richard what his secret is, but he said he didn't know how to answer. He just talked about God's heart and determination, all the stuff I've heard a million times before.

Turn the page: Ray's Theory on Black Holes

Bayou Lafourche

1976.10.30

All Souls Day

Yesterday was truly a day of miracles. We had a small team: Steve Rappoli, Diane Bentstoder and me, led by Christopher. We did small towns along Bayou Lafourche and did pretty well. Everyone had at least $150 by 6 o'clock.

Most of the businesses along the bayou were tied to either fishing or offshore oil drilling. A lot of boat and engine repair shops, and steel fabricators with yards full of drilling pipe. Inside the cavernous shops were guys with welding helmets and heavy leather gloves, and every time they touched the rod to metal it would create a brilliant spark that would light up the whole room. The air was thick with the smell of ozone and hot metal. I loved it and wanted to stay and learn how to to weld. One of the guys handed me a helmet to watch, because it was too bright to see otherwise. They told me I would burn my eyes out and go blind if I looked directly at it too long. They said it was just like staring at the sun.

Farther down the highway I fundraised a helicopter service that takes crews back and forth from the oil rigs out in the gulf. The pilot was in the break room having black coffee in a styrofoam cup. He looked like the Marlboro man. He was leaning back in the chair, his cowboy boots propped up on the table. He had mirrored sunglasses and a mustache and smoked a little cigar and wore a leather jacket and a Saints ball cap. Even sitting down he had a swagger. He looked like he was on top of the world. And he had a lot of money. But he only bought one box -- "for the office," he said. I could see he had a huge amount of pride in what he did, and the shiny blue helicopter in the yard was his baby. I really envied him. He was so cool. I wanted to fly helicopters.

At lunch I went into a convenience store and on the counter were several big jars and a crock pot. One jar held pickled pigs feet and the other had pickled eggs in beet juice, just like my mother used to make.

I looked in the crock pot and saw about seven or eight big fat links of sausage. I asked the man what it was and he looked at me like he was surprised I didn't know. Obviously, I was new in town. "Boudin," he said. He had a heavy French-Cajun accent, and just the way he said it -- "boo dahn" -- sounded exotic and delicious. So I bought two links, a bag of Doritos and a Dr Pepper and went outside and sat under a tree covered in Spanish moss. It's almost November, but it was still warm and humid down on the bayou. It felt like rain was coming.

The boudin was more fantastic than I could possibly imagine. The combination of spices with the pork and rice was heaven. It was the best possible lunch I could have had. I felt one with the bayou. I couldn't wait to tell my team about it.

Around 10:30, while we were blitzing the bars and anything else that was still open along the solitary highway along the bayou, we all got arrested. Turned out the sheriff had denied Christopher permission to fundraise in the parish earlier in the day. We all got off on a $50 bond and drove back to New Orleans in the pouring rain. We blitzed around, and it's a miracle we ended with a $237 average.

Today was a totally different story. We went back to Lafourche and did parking lots. I didn't get started until almost 1 o'clock because we got up late. I hate being in the van that long. It makes it hard to get started. Satan uses our inertia to make us lazy and not want to fundraise. But I've learned the best way to overcome this negativity is to just jump out of the van with a loud "Monsai!" and start running around like crazy. It always works. Even if people don't buy right away, the high energy allows me to break through the satanic spirit world and subjugate the area.

By 6 o'clock I had almost $170. At 6:15 I got arrested by the same cop who busted me yesterday. I paid the $50 bond and was back at the parking lot by 7, but I couldn't sell because the cop was parked right there watching me. He was also waiting for the van, because as soon as Christopher showed up at 7:30 he flipped the lights on his patrol car and dragged me and Christopher back down to the police station. Their intention was to arrest Christopher.

In the meantime, another cop found Steven, who was still out fundraising, so while Christopher and I were in the station they brought Steven in. They set his bond at $500. Christopher and I talked them into letting us go so we could get the money. We went back out to the van. We only had about $400 and they still hadn't found Diane. We went to pick her up, but she'd only made $85 all day. She said she had seen the cops looking for her, but she'd managed to stay out of sight. She also got a case of candy stolen.

So we went back to the police station with $485 and counted out $15 in silver to spring Steven from jail. I drove us back to New Orleans. We had zero result for the day, except for about $25 in nickels, dimes and quarters. Christopher's spirit was crushed. We didn't even blitz when we got back into the city. We just went to the center, which was an apartment out in Kenner, and went to bed. The rest of the team was still out because we were in the middle of a competition and we were supposed to keep fundraising at least until 2 a.m. every night. I should have pushed Christopher to go back out, but I didn't.

Turn the page: MFT Ringers

Victory or Die

1976.10.28

Today had to be one of the heaviest days of my life of faith. The lesson of the day is love God first, put God before everything, save God from His grief, fulfill God's desire.

Steve Rappoli and I began the day at the Woolco parking lot I had fundraised last night, but we got kicked out. We left a message and went to a different area, but Satan stole the note so we were spaced out from the team. I returned to the parking lot later this evening and found the note was gone. Turns out the whole rest of the team got spaced out too.

The sisters had a $37 average. The brothers had around $50 average. I was high seller with $107. Nothing to brag about.

Captain spoke to us tonight and took full responsibility for not putting God first, for always trying to comfort brothers and sisters rather than comfort God.

Tomorrow begins competition, but our leaders are very worried. I feel I must get victory or die.

Turn the page: Bayou Lafourche

1-4-2, 3-4-5

1976.10.27

This may be the last time I will be able to write for several weeks because competition begins on Friday, the day after tomorrow. About two-thirds of the Japanese brothers and sisters who came to America for Yankee Stadium and Washington Monument must go back to Japan now, so in many ways we will have greater spiritual responsibility than ever before.

We have been struggling very much. Of course, without the struggle we could have no victory. So really I want to try to chart my course through this struggle. My goal will be $400 a day.

Yesterday I sold for about one hour at night, the first time in several days. Today was my first full day selling in a week. I did some industrial area along the Harvey Canal on the West Bank of New Orleans. I only made $55 the whole day because I couldn't feel desperate. In the evening I did a Woolco parking lot. I felt a strong desire to make a good result to inspire the team. My goal was $100 but I only made about $60.

Still I had some really good experiences out there and was able to subjugate the area fairly well. HF said some pretty amazing things through me, and many people bought who otherwise would not if I had been even a little bit spaced out.

Chanting helps keep me focused and dominate the spirit world. I say, "One for two, three for five/One for two, three for five/One for two, three for five..." over and over all day and night when I'm out selling. It has an easy rhythm and mobilizes the spirit world to make people give. I see the evidence of the spiritual activity when people are pulling out $2 even as I approach, and I sell a lot more of the three boxes for $5.

Turn the page: Victory or Die

Mandatory Rest

1976.10.26

I haven't been selling for almost a week. Sunday a week ago I developed a boil on my right leg, just above the ankle. I went on working all the same. By Monday night I felt really ill and in much pain, but I didn't stop. Tuesday I went up north with Tony's team. I went to the doctor and fundraised about half the day. But I haven't been fundraising since.

The next day I drove for Tony and he went selling, but then I was called back down to Lafayette to drive for Christopher. I spent the whole day traveling on the bus. Tony said because I never seek rest, God is giving me rest. Even now my leg is almost all better, but still I am just driving and pretty much staying off my feet.

I've been using the time to pray a lot. I've been feeling how much God is crying for the world and crying for us. He wakes us up in the morning and He cries because He'd rather let us sleep. He cries as He sends us out, because He knows how much difficulty we experience every day. So I feel how much worse I make God feel when I complain. God is already grieved. Why should I cause him to grieve more? So I've been trying to comfort God in my prayer, not ask Him for anything and tell Him not to worry about me, let Him know it's okay for Him to push me, that I won't complain or give up.

Turn the page: 1-4-2, 3-4-5

You Can't Fight City Hall

1976.10.15

Today was a very difficult day. We had a terrible police problem in the town of Opalousas, Louisiana. Christoper dropped me and Michael Rendall there. We had been fundraising less than an hour before the cops picked us up.

The chief of police decided that there had been too many fundraisers and that we as a group came around too often. They held us up for a couple hours while they talked to the city judge. Finally they let us go like they were doing us a big favor.

We went over to city hall to check out the ordinance, but there wasn't one. Still, no one would give us permission. The mayor, the city attorney, the city judge -- all said it was up to the police chief. The chief knew about Father, so I suspect he was negative.

I would much rather fundraise that go through what I did today. I felt God's frustration. We never gained victory.

Our sister Roseanne came back today. She had left with just a note saying she was going to fast for seven days. So Commander said we had to make a prayer condition until she came back. The sisters have been struggling very much. Their course is so much more difficult since the fall came through Eve.

Turn the page: Mandatory Rest

I Should Be Captain

1976.10.6

Today's is Gretchen's birthday, but I forgot to get a card. The days all run together. It's hard to keep up.

My new captain, Christopher Rood, is only eight months in the family and has been fundraising for three months. I feel very resentful that someone so young spiritually is now my central figure, but I know that's my fallen nature. My arrogance makes me want to disunite and dominate him. But I know God can only work through unity, that unity is the starting point of love, and it is true love that is our mission to restore and expand. Besides, I know that even if Christopher is wrong and I unite with his direction, HF will take care of the rest.

When I was in San Francisco I was very reluctant to go to New York and often thought I would refuse if they tried to send me. But after fundraising in Texas for a month with Matthew's flower team last November, I began to see the value of fundraising for spiritual growth, and I finally began to desire to be sent to New York.

I feel I am facing the same situation now. I have been content to be a seller and not so eager to be a captain. But I am beginning to see that now it is essential for my spiritual growth that I should seek to take more responsibility.

Turn the page: You Can't Fight City Hall

Small World: Tulane University Edition

1976.10.5

I'm in New Orleans. Already so much has happened. I don't know if I can recall everything.

I am on a small team with a brand, spanking new captain, Christopher Rood. Yesterday a seller, today a captain. I should be a leader, but I haven't taken enough responsibility. Last night, Tony Scazzero, our sub-leader, said that I love people in the fallen world more than brothers and sisters. Of course it's true. I've focused all of my energy since I've been on MFT on having God's compassion for the people so they'll want to give. Tony's words were really judgmental and I felt so accused I could hardly fundraise.

It didn't help that I already feel accused by spirit world of not loving the people enough as it is. I know the spiritual benefit of them buying, but I've been failing them. Now Tony says I love brothers and sisters even less.

A few weeks ago I ran into Holly Baggett, the girl from Dover who came to dinner at the Washington Street center last year. I met her walking across the Tulane University Campus after I had gotten kicked out of the dorms for fundraising. She was pretty blown away.

Turn the page: I Should Be Captain

My Day Off

1976.9.20

I sort of had the day off, which was very unusual. I'm used to being by myself a lot on MFT, but never without a "mission." So for once I was without any clear purpose or direction and I decided to go sightseeing around DC.

I spoke to the folks last night to tell them I was able to come visit for a day and see my grandfather, who had just suffered a heart attack, but they said it wasn't worth it for them to drive all the way from Dover to Washington just to see me for a few hours and then drive me back. They felt they needed at least a week to have all their questions answered. They were fairly negative and very confused.

I had called them right after we got back to the hotel from the victory celebration, which was at the park at Great Falls, Virginia, along the Potomac River just upriver from DC. We all gathered, several hundred MFT members, in one of the parking lots where the walking trail goes up to the dam.

Father was not able to come because Kim Il Sung had publicly threatened him and the security people advised Father to leave for New York as quickly as possible. However, Colonel Pak came in his place, which was almost as good because Colonel Pak was able to give testimony to True Parents, which he would not have been able to do if Father had been there and he was simply translating. It was unusual to see Colonel Pak in such a personal way. Usually he is translating for Father, so it was very interesting to hear his perspective on the rally.

Then Colonel Pak spoke directly about MFT. He said Father said all historical indemnity of the past 6,000 years, all the failures of the central figures in God's providence, had been indemnified by the victory at Washington Monument. So now we were in a special blessing period that would last 40 days, just like Pentecost after the Resurrection. God's spirit would pour down on us and all of our fundraising results would multiply. So it was Father's desire that we should all stay on MFT for at least the next 40 days. 

I looked around and almost everyone seemed excited by this revelation that fundraising results would suddenly start pouring down like manna from heaven. It made my head spin. I thought back to some of my best days when I had made $300 or more and how for the next 40 days every day on MFT was going to be like that for everyone, only better. It seems entirely possible to me I could now make a $500 average or more. I can't wait to get started. 

After Colonel Pak spoke, the national MFT was reorganized. Some new regions and new commanders were announced, and all the commanders were given new regions. Then the commanders announced the new team captains that would be coming to their regions, and then the team captains called out the names of all the members who would be on their teams. It was very exciting. Everything was completely reshuffled with all new people to get to know. I was assigned to a team that would be based in New Orleans.

But I wouldn't be driving with my new team to New Orleans. This morning I was given a special mission to first drive up to New York to pick up a new van and then drive it to New Orleans to meet up with my new team. I was waiting in the Ambassador Hotel for John Hessell so we could drive up to New York together, but then something came up, I don't know what.

Instead I was asked to help a brother named Joe, whom I'd never met or seen before, as he ran errands around DC with a short van. Joe, however, apparently had no idea what he was supposed to do or where to go. He just drove around the city aimlessly for most of the morning while I tried to nap in the very back seat. Already it was hot and humid and it was hard to sleep, and his driving was very herky-jerky and it was a struggle to keep from getting dumped on the floor every time he slammed on the brakes. So I laid back there with my eyes closed, my arm slung over the back of the seat to keep from flying off, and I listened to Joe mutter to himself as he drove around for a couple hours.

It gradually dawned on me that Joe was a "problem member." He was the kind of person who understood Principle and knew who Father was, but he couldn't do a frontline mission because he had some personal problems, and no one could really do anything to help him. So he was just sort of pushed to one side and given menial tasks to keep him busy and in the family, but that was about it. I don't know why someone thought it would be a good idea for me to waste my morning with him. I don't think we spoke three words.

Then Joe stopped the van and got out. I heard him pop the hood, and then he let loose with a string of swear words I didn't know existed.

I'd heard plenty of cussing in my life, and I had talked that way myself before the church, but in the year or so since I had joined, I had never heard any church member cuss, not even a "damn" or "hell." Nothing. Everyone knew Satan would invade that kind of foundation, but either Joe didn't know or didn't care or couldn't help it. The words that came out of his mouth were stunning. All I could do was lie there in shock. I think I may have stopped breathing, wondering if Satan would suddenly strike us both dead in some horrible manner. I don't think Joe even remembered I was there. I just prayed that we wouldn't get into an accident.

After wandering around in Joe's van for several hours and accomplishing absolutely nothing, I ended up back at the Ambassador Hotel. I was told it was now too late to drive to New York. No one seemed to care what I did, so I decided to take a walk and see the sights.

The first thing I did was go to the Deli Sun, a small delicatessen the church had opened nearby where they sold Korean barbecue. I'd had one of the bulgogi sandwiches when we first came to Washington, and it was so delicious I couldn't wait to try another. It was a bit expensive, but truly one of the most flavorful things I'd ever eaten.

After lunch I walked back to the monument and went to the top. This time I spent a long time looking all around, trying to take in and memorize every building and feature as far as I could see. I tried to imagine what the place had looked like when it was still a wild, swampy frontier along the river. From this height, it seemed I was looking down upon a miracle. I said a little prayer at the top of the Washington Monument, and then I went down.

My first stop was the visitors' center at the monument. I watched a movie called "Washington the Man," with George Washington portrayed by Lorne Greene. I thought it was excellent, using only Washington's own words. At one point Washington explained how the American troops endured incredible hardships, yet they never complained. I began to feel that God had given me a special mission after all -- to find the heart of our forefathers in preparation for the next 40 days on MFT.

Next I went to the Jefferson Memorial. There were some very inspiring inscriptions on the walls, but the greatest was engraved around the rotunda. It said: "I have sworn on the altar of God eternal hostility against every form of tyranny on the minds of men." I remembered Commander Hayashi saying our mission now is to defeat Communism. I felt I must be greater than Jefferson in my determination.

From there I went over to the Lincoln Memorial. On the walls were engraved The Gettysburg Address and his Second Inaugural Address. Both were very deep and serious, the words as true now as when they were spoken.

I looked around and had a choice of going to the Capitol or to the Kennedy Center. The Kennedy Center was closer and I was getting tired, so I walked over there. I found a series of abstract tapestries called "The Seven Days of Creation," which were very beautiful, but there were no inspiring words or inscriptions. I began to think I had made a mistake and should have gone to the Capitol. But it was getting late so I went back to the hotel.

As I write this, I am sitting at the gate of American Airlines at National Airport with a sister named Darlene Kelley. Darlene told me Lady Dr. Kim, who can see the spirit world, says Satan was crying and wailing in defeat because of our victory at Washington Monument. We are waiting for Commander Hiyashi to get to the airport, and then we will all fly down to New Orleans. I'm eager to join my new team and get back to work.

Turn the page: Small World: Tulane University Edition

Washington Monument

1976.9.18

Washington Monument

I was really shocked when I got to the Mall and saw all the people. There were thousands in all directions. I knew right away this wasn't going to be the symbolic victory of Yankee Stadium. This was exactly what we had hoped and prayed and worked for. I suddenly felt my offering to God had been accepted. Even though I hadn't always made my goal over the past three months and had fallen short on many internal levels, I never gave up or lost faith, and that's the condition God needed. I knew that on a deep heartist level I had gotten victory. It felt really, really good to be there.

But for most of the day I didn't feel that way. I had no idea what would happen. All day I had replayed the disastrous events of Yankee Stadium over and over in my mind -- the storm, the booing and hissing, the near riot, the feeling of utter failure at the end. In my imagination I could easily envision those things happening again.

I had been dropped off at a bus stop in Bethesda, Maryland, early in the morning. It was one of the designated pickup points for people going to rally. But all my fundraising experience had taught me that these were not people who liked Father or the church. It was a rich, white neighborhood with large tidy homes and manicured lawns. Absolutely terrible fundraising area. The worst. I tried to have faith that God would move the hearts of even some of these people to come to the rally, but after six months of fundraising, 18 hours a day, seven days a week, I saw no reason to be optimistic that wealthy, white Americans were suddenly going to see the light.

I was right. Not one person came to my stop.

It was warm and bright and I had nothing to do but just sit there and wait. I had a terrible battle with sleep spirits all morning. Months of going on three or fours hours of sleep a night was catching up to me. I wanted so badly to lie down on the bench to take a nap. But I knew Satan would invade, so I fought back. I sang every song I knew. I stood by the shoulder and waved at passing cars while I held a poster with Father's picture and the words "Meet Us At The Monument."

The sight of Father's picture made people possessed. Housewives flipped me the bird. Little kids leaned out their car windows and booed. People kept threatening to run me over. In fact, one car pulled over to the shoulder, laid on the horn and floored it. I stepped out of the way, but the car swerved toward me and only barely missed me.

The elderly couple whose house I was standing in front of were very kind to me, however. I think they felt sorry for me, seeing how I was being treated. They offered me the use of their phone and bathroom. The woman even made me a sandwich at lunchtime and brought it out to me along with a glass of lemonade. I gave them some tickets to the rally. I doubt they came, but I won't forget their simple kindness. They were the one decent thing that happened to me all day at that godforsaken bus stop.

I hated being in a place where people hated Father so much and took it out on me, but it was my mission and I wasn't going to leave. MFT had taught me that no matter how hopeless our external circumstances may appear, only God knows what's truly happening on the cosmic level. I was going to faithfully play my role to the end.

I didn't get picked up until late and got to the rally about 7:30, right at the end of Father's speech. But it was okay with me. After not having a single person come to my bus stop and enduring nearly 12 hours of negativity, I was just happy to see all those people. Maybe they really came just to see the fireworks, but who cared? The important thing was they had witnessed the messiah speaking at his final public appearance. It was a historic moment whether folks realized it or not, and they will always be able to say they were there.

Tonight's fireworks were the most spectacular I had ever seen in my life. I watched the show with Poppy and other Oakland family members. It was a wonderful reunion, but sad too. So many people I had known and loved back in San Francisco had left the family or been kidnapped and deprogrammed. Even Mitch was gone. It was hard to believe.

My heart is getting seasoned to this type of bad news. It's clear to me now that staying is the hard choice. Leaving is easy. Who knows? I may yet have to go through the ordeal myself, though my parents have repeatedly assured me they won't have me kidnapped. Still, you can never trust Satan.

Turn the page: My Day Off

View From the Top

1976.9.17 (cont.)

Washington, DC

Today we handed out papers and fliers for the rally and I got rid of my stack at a traffic light near the monument, so I decided that I just had to go to the top. At the base near the orientation center I ran into Noah, the Principle lecturer at Boonville, but he was sort of spaced out because he had just lost his camera. But he did remember my name, which surprised me.

At the top I saw Commander Hayashi. At first I was afraid if he saw me he'd get angry, but I decided I had a responsibility to say hello to him. By the time I got around to where he was he was going down the stairs. I called to him, but he didn't hear me, so I went and looked out toward the Lincoln Memorial.

Below me, on the edge of the monument lawn, they were building the stage where the messiah would give his final speech to the entire world. I tried to comprehend the magnitude of what was about to happen. What would people around the world think if Jesus were going to speak the next day at the Washington Monument? How would the world react? It was almost too much to think about.

I went down and got some more fliers and began handing them out at the light. I met Loyall and Kristina from Oakland driving in their car. The entire Oakland family was in Washington.

That night back at the Ambassador Hotel, where MFT was staying, we were gathered in the dining area to eat dinner. I saw Commander Hayashi and asked him what he was thinking about at the top of the monument. He was very surprised that I knew he had been up there, so I explained that I had gone up too and had seen him and called to him but he didn't hear me. He said he was thinking about God's history and that now our mission was to defeat Communism.

Then he asked me how old I was. I said 22, and he said I was still young.

Turn the page: Washington Monument

Obelisk Oblique

1976.9.17

We have been in Washington, DC, for one day. Now everything is totally focused on tomorrow's rally at the monument. But I have not come with the victory I had anticipated. The final day of the third week, I didn't fulfill. It was a Sunday and Captain Turegano took me to Harrison, Arkansas. But I only made $66. Satan invaded my offering to God.

Now I feel I have nothing to offer except my repentance. At first I felt so bad from my own level for not having gained the victory on the individual level. Later I realized I had let down my captain and brothers and sisters. Victory is stimulating to all. Our team did do well the week I made $200 average, but now I feel like Abraham, who successfully sacrificed the heifer and the ram but at the final moment was invaded by Satan when he failed to sacrifice the dove. I feel God could almost forgive Abraham because he did not realize what he was doing for God's providence.

But I know the Divine Principle, so I don't feel that my betrayal of God's trust will be easily forgiven or restored, though I am determined that it must. I tried to indemnify my failure on the last three days of fundraising before we left Arkansas to come to Washington. But I made less than $100 each day. Team results dropped again. The whole team has struggled. I feel directly responsible.

The reason Satan was able to invade was because I openly complained to God about my brothers and sisters not fulfilling their goals and so the result had to be made by me. I completely betrayed God's trust by such a display of faithlessness and ingratitude.

Tomorrow Father will speak for the last time before the entire world. We have been told that all of our failures will be wiped away with this victory. Still, I feel a loss at not being able to make a pure offering to True Parents. Perhaps through prayer I can indemnify this failure, but there is no time.

Turn the page: View From the Top