What she saw made him wander for months, once after so much waiting for an answer, it came; and she understood: that God had shown her his future and the consequence of his present. Noting that if he did not confront with the past. It would continue the cycle of generational curses.
In the first instance I calculated about twenty-five years. This because of what happened, ten years later. That to actually happen what I saw: "a separation was needed"
God gives you cities of refuge, cities, cities to develop as you develop others; it is doubtful that you avoid it; it is fulfilled if it is another person who induces, forces and sentences you to follow. Idem, to the designs of the Father and God. You agree to drop everything: Is it leading to partial success or total failure ?!
We were on our way to nowhere, my wife and I, and three children with us. But, by then, we only had a three-year-old baby. This ecstasy despite what was seen, meant: What God makes maps? What God will use yours to make you return to your cities of origin?
Indeed, so that another part of the supernatural vision is fulfilled, received when falling asleep, in the seat of an omnibus; just after leaving that city of Caramilla, leaving everything: Company, clients, land, leadership, economy and church. That I deciphered the enigma of the cobwebs. For this I had to come and go for about forty-odd years; between Ancash and Tumbes several times. And by failing temporarily. It ended in another city of refuge; It would be said a city located between the thousand kilometers traveled round trip. In that city, there was a room: right in the middle of two streets between two lots, one built of noble material and the other of sticks and reeds; a perfect cabin that was falling apart.
The first thing that is assimilated over the years, when you realize reality, is that it has absorbed you. And it is no coincidence: what do you do? and how do you do it? If it is understood in generational cycles: plagued with violence, crime and witchcraft.
What I'm going to is what I'm made of; to the measure of God's will. Reflected in a life of programmed sacrifices. And whose arrival would have to be documented to learn from your own steps of faith; and the steps of the transgressors, unpunished, and fickle.
The cobweb in the background of the family image. It was a place, a generational sin, events that had occurred in the last 50 years or more. And I, I was lying there in a bed in a room in the middle of two streets and I had again in God, another similar supernatural vision: "I saw the cobwebs again." And I understood: "That he was there", in one of the least expected places, but with a purpose of generational liberation.
Indeed, the grandmother came to that place; "Obviously it was her house." But for what? if nobody inhabited it more than in summer. A girl had invited him to share his life, but it was already unconsciously planned by a premeditated act when acting against someone. Above all, as a small boy or girl.
In that place, the grandmother had refused her life, living with three husbands one after the other in successive settings.
It was three in the morning. You could hear from before going to bed, up from the bedroom, a constant moan. She no longer spoke short, loud and distant. Not least she was imposing with her gestures; showing superiority when speaking of episodes arched by the debauchery, violence and arrogance typical of a Fíate. If she was called monkey, it was because of her effectiveness in climbing walls and over people and reducing them to a crawl. With a firm tourniquet applied to her neck from her back; she reduced her occasional day or night clients, regardless of age. They ended up reduced, sagaciously robbed, idem looted their bank accounts, because asking for the card keys: It was one of their most celebrated actions raised as a criminal curriculum, this, by their cronies and by their now forever traumatized, powerless and defenseless attacked .
That night he was not seen climbing from the cabin to the bathroom door and entering the toilet from above, but, with great difficulty, leaning on his bed partner, he managed to get rid of the intestinal area and also return. Shame aside!
No one was bothered by his moans, because by March 2020, it was a heartbreaking daily cry to hear: Topic! Multiplied by twenty-five inmates in a cell measuring four by six meters, by twelve cells in a single ward, multiplied by other identical cells with the same number of prisoners by fourteen blocks in the Cambio Puente prison, in the Ancash region of Peru.
He could be heard as his teeth were grinding due to the intense fever and more so the indifference towards that discomfort. But now because of the impotence of having to avoid approaching someone sick with Covid; for fear of catching it: Not so much! But for not being able to do anything before an evil that daily produced a
to what other death in as many cells as in other pavilions ... the media spoke of eighty-four. And in the entire region one thousand six hundred and sixty-four being the deaths mostly men. Add to this vices such as tobacco, marijuana, basic cocaine paste and multiple venereal diseases, and lung diseases such as the fearsome tuberculosis, the pleura that filled the lungs with water and whose treatment lasted for its phases: one, two and three, between one month and up to six months. Of not resisting the body or for not having the medicines and sanitary control: A fortuitous death. Announcement for a minute of silence and the respective quota of a nuevo sol as a collection for the deceased's family.
By objecting to my prejudices as a good man, the faith and power I experienced in God, these last twenty-five years, was stronger. I got up and in the dark felt his body. I first touched the feet of the other inmate who removed them. Conscious of my pastoral quality in those six months of the year of imprisonment in cell five of eaves "b", in pavilion four. I managed to take his head and without reason. And avoiding alerting the disbelievers. And worse to the negligent bosses who, knowing the magnitude of the pandemic, came and went between the pavilions spreading the contagion and the evil proliferating. Until touching the same crowded room of people, with remorse and suicidal and homicidal thoughts.
It took fifteen minutes. To intense spiritual prayer ... the sweat from his face splashed my hands and arms and the fever burned my fingers, his eyes, half of him, shone with tears of feverish pain, helpless and unconscious. There was no other option for him. It could be said for sure that it would be the opposite of not seeing it at another sunrise. More God wanted to open a miracle. May they transform the immaturity, impudence and social indolence of these Faites to submit them, to prostrate them until they ask forgiveness bent their knees and crying uncontrollably begging for divine favor. And indeed mercy acted for good. Everything changed in his delirious appearance, sickly almost mortuary: The intense shooting was gone. The fever to pain. Tears confused in the most intense sweat. And he fell asleep. In peace. To the silence of him and to sleep well from him. I kept crying out giving thanks.