We recently returned from attending Blessing '98, the victorious blessing of 120 million couples, officiated from Madison Square Garden on Saturday, June 13th, 1998. It was a turning point for the destiny of mankind, and for me personally, a day in which I was stupefied by the depth of God's heart.

My husband and I, and our four children were sitting on the beach after work, on Friday evening, June 12th. It was sunny, windy and cool. Peter and I sipped hot coffee while the kids body-surfed with their little, cold-impervious bodies.

We had decided that it wouldn't be possible to go to the blessing in New York the next day for various reasons. We had planned to attend for weeks, but now that the time was here it didn't seem possible. Our van had just gotten out of the shop the day before, and wasn't even completely fixed. We didn't have any more money to finish fixing it this week. The only other loot we had was earmarked for other things. Peter had a boatload of work and commitments to fulfill over the weekend, and it seemed that there was no way that we could go.

We sat looking at the beautiful white caps breaking as our children shrieked with delight. The wheels and cogs in Peter's head were turning. "Why don't we go? Let's go. We can do it! I can work for so and so at such and such a time; so and so owes us money, so we can pay the electric bill; and blah blah blah."

I looked at him a bit shocked. I had already decided to stay home and support him while he worked. I had been offered a bus seat a few hours before, but had declined. We were wrestling with the thought of my taking the seat, but when we called back, it had already been given to someone else. It was out of the question. There was no money to go, and our van's reliability was an unknown factor. It would mean driving all night, attending the event and driving back all the next day without sleep. I am not a night person, and I don't have a lot of stamina over long periods of time. I thought it was an absurd proposition.

But there we were, calling our kids back to shore at 7:30 p.m., and dashing home to get ready to leave for NY. We rushed around the house grabbing clothes and toiletries, filling the cats' food and water dishes, and stuffing drinks into a cooler. I was tired, and I have to admit, a bit negative. Peter kept saying, "We're young. Let's have a sense of adventure!"

Everything in me was saying, "This makes no sense from a practical viewpoint. We have no money, we don't know if we can trust our vehicle. We'll be so tired we could die in a car accident, no, this is nuts!"

At the same time though, I have a gut sense about my husband's intuition concerning spiritual matters. I trust his heart and I know that he listens to God's voice more than I do. I decided to follow, not because I wanted to go, but because I knew he was following a spiritual call. That was why I didn't argue with him even though everything in me was screaming to stay home.

As we approached the Chesapeake Bay Bridge which connects the eastern shore of Virginia to the mainland, ferocious cracks of lightning began to slice the sky. Dark, bilious clouds flashed white-yellow, lighting up the heavens with eerie and ominous warning. We had not yet paid the $10. one way toll over the bridge, and all I wanted to do was turn around and go home. After we paid the toll and began the 17 mile journey over the two lane bridge, (yes, that's two lanes of traffic speeding in opposite directions on a narrow, precarious, seemingly endless bridge,) the lightning continued. I slumped in my seat, muttering prayers while the children gasped in fear and wonder as we headed directly towards the churning storm. Peter kept smiling at me, saying, "Oma, this is an adventure!" (He admitted to me later that he was actually very nervous, but decided not to have any give and take with it.)

We managed to get over the bridge before the rain started, but then it hit with a fury. Blinding rain forced us to crawl along at minimum speed as crazy morons passed us wildly. I wanted to cry. I wanted to pull over and get a motel and we hadn't even driven twenty miles. Everything in my heart and soul wanted to turn around and go home. But Peter calmly and faithfully drove on. Eventually, by the grace of heaven, the rain subsided and we had a pleasant journey, arriving in Wilmington, Delaware at about 3:00 a.m. We got a cheap motel and slept for three hours. Then we took showers and got dressed up and continued our journey.

I was feeling really strange when we began our drive on Saturday morning. I was deluged with that peculiar exhaustion when the body trembles and strange perspiration beads up on one's forehead, as one succumbs to Montezuma's revenge. We had to stop the car three times while I rushed into rest stops feeling like I had a combination of food poisoning and morning sickness.

I kept unrolling my window and sticking my head out into the cool and foggy air like a dying dog, trying to suck oxygen from the grimy, industrial atmosphere. My internal organs were flexing. I could feel all of them; my liver, kidneys, heart, intestines, gall bladder, lungs, kitchen sinks and whatever else is in there; doing grotesque choreography beneath my seat belt. I sat weakly smiling at Peter who kept saying, "Are you all right? Shall I stop again?"

I couldn't answer him and then he would pull over and wait for me. He was so loving and patient and I kept apologizing because I was making us later and later.

I imagined myself discovered unconscious on the purgatory-scummy, bathroom floor of the New Jersey rest stop. They would wheel me through the corridor of a hospital, and I would rise above my body during emergency surgery. They would find infestations of cancer or alien young. The doctors would say to Peter, "It's a miracle she lived this long, it was so advanced." I imagined my family throwing dirt into my grave. I thought I was dying, I thought that I was feeling the last moments of a peculiar disease that hadn't revealed itself with any symptoms before this moment. I was thinking, "This is why I didn't want to come, because I am going to die today."

I hung onto the door handle as we drove through the Lincoln Tunnel. One last rush into the ladies room of the New Yorker Hotel, and then we walked to Madison Square Garden. We drove all those hours and fought all those battles, only to be seated in an overflow room with no hope of being able to attend the event inside. My children were miserable. They had been so cooperative and they were discouraged that they couldn't attend the event, live. It would have meant so much to them. I sat on my plastic folding chair, watching the TV screen weakly.

The inattentive noise in the overflow room was distracting and it was hard to focus on the program on the monitor. As Rev. Kwak spoke, my husband nudged me and said, "Are you listening to this?" At that moment, I connected to the message that Rev. Kwak was giving. The four special blessings; the 34, special, historic people Father and Mother were blessing on this day; the fact that the gates of hell were opened, and billions of people would have the chance to be liberated; all began to sink into my bleary brain. Copious tears rolled down my cheeks as I listened in disbelief and amazement.

This is the God I always wanted to believe in. It was like hearing the principle for the first time. My original mind clung to the words in recognition, like a stray kitten discovering a surrogate mother and hungrily nursing. Heavenly Father is the kindest, smartest God, and True Parents are the most common sense parents - this is what is supposed to happen! What else could happen? This is the God I hoped for all my life, the one everyone has hoped for deep down, but we couldn't articulate it. This is the answer to all the prayers of history; the realized hope for everyone.

That God's huge heart was reaching into the spiritual garbage can and liberating hell alongside heaven was overwhelming. I was so happy to be there, so honored to be in attendance. I was grateful and proud that God is such a kind Father, not the trivialized, vengeance-wielding punisher of tacky, cartoon tracts. I tried to think about the millions of years God waited for this moment, but it was too big. God's generosity floored me.

Peter and I held hands, exchanged rings and kissed, and rededicated our marriage, along with the ceremony. It was a moment of rebirth, and even though we were in a peripheral room and not the main hall, it was wonderful to be there in the same New York air, on the same spot on the earth with True Parents. We said "Amen" with Father when he said his three, beautiful, heartfelt Amens, and we cheered "Mansei" with him in unison.

Then I was cured. I felt fine. In fact, as we walked on the streets of New York on our way back to the van, we stopped and bought hot-dogs from a vendor and I actually I ate one. And it was delicious. (And I usually put hot-dogs on a par with lamb tongues and calf brains.)

On the grueling drive home we concluded that I must have been under some kind of spiritual attack, and we hoped that whoever it was, got liberated.

For all the earthly impracticality of attending, I want to state again that I was humbled and honored to be present. I won't remember the electric bill in a thousand years, but I'll always be proud that our family was able to attend Blessing '98.

 Download entire page and pages related to it in ZIP format
Table of Contents
Information
Tparents Home