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Entangled

By Darrell Powell

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OLD FRIENDS

How does one describe the unknown? Creative people write poetry or musical lyrics. But when the remarkable leaves you with a profound revelation about God, how do you tell your story without others thinking you are a crackpot? The prophet Ezekiel attempted to describe the unknown. Most religious scholars regard him as a prophet of ancient Israel. A crackpot, he is not. He saw something real and wrote about what he saw. Although I don’t completely understand all the visions and prophecies of Ezekiel, I
believe him.

My name is Lance Wayne Osgood. I am eighty-six years old. Recently I was visited by Tatami Ah Mi, an amazing friend I met thirty years ago. Meeting Tatami (I call him Tat) was one of several milestones that occurred within a five-year window for me from 2010 through 2015. We met in 2013 immediately before the death of my father. Dad’s death occurred three years after the suicide of my mother. There’s more about my family in the chapters that follow.

What makes Tat so remarkable? The best answer I have is that you have to experience him for yourself. Tat is, for lack of any appropriate descriptive quality, beyond anything I have ever encountered, read about in the newspaper, or watched on the nightly news. His presence overwhelms the ego into humility and he leaves one feeling profoundly comforted and loved. I attribute these qualities to his nature; there’s nothing fake about him; he sincerely enjoys people and not only sees, but brings out, the best in us. Being around him exposes you to the redemptive nature of God. For example, he used to sing a spiritual, one I’d never heard before, but it has something to do with the Lord calling our names. The melody of that spiritual still resonates within me, although I no longer remember the lyrics. Even Tat’s name is significant. Tat told me that his name, Tatami Ah Mi, originated from an anagram for I Am That I Am found in Exodus 3:14 in the Bible.

Tatami immediately engages you with his clever, entertaining, and charismatic conversational style. His insight into life,philosophy, and religion produces a subtle, yet profound eff on how one perceives and understands reality. We spent long hours talking about God, the purpose of life, and what it means to be faithful, loving, and forgiving when a situation arises that stretches us beyond our comfort zones. I fondly remember those conversations, and they are recorded here for your contemplation. Come, let us walk together down the path before us.

Tat often passionately discussed a place into which religion can only give tiny glimpses. Several times I’ve asked Tat to prove to me its existence, that it is not the product of a controlled or illegal substance. His response was always the same, “Genesis 28:12 and 17: believe Jacob’s dream.” Once I looked those scriptures up and found the story of Jacob’s dream of a stairway to heaven where angels traveled back and forth from earth to heaven and proclaimed it to be the gate of heaven. When he responded this way I, of course, usually smiled. Smiling cloaked my real response which was to doubt his sanity. Yet the more I listened to him, the more I became aware of the soundness of his insight and, consequentially, I was soon drawn to the depths of his knowledge.

I believe this place is real. Although there is no man-made physical, academic, or scientific evidence of its existence, Tat explains that the divine is not able to be measured or perceived by man. Divine law makes it so. However, divine law yields to faith, and through faith we are given glimpses of what lies beyond life. Here then is some of the information that he shared. I believe Tat. I pray that you will also. Let me tell you about one of the most significant encounters I had with Tat.

***

It’s 6:30 a.m. and the radiate alarm on the cellphone sounds off The sound startles me from my slumber, groaning in irritation, I mumble in a sleepy voice, “Just five more minutes with baby. Blasted cellphone. I’m tired. Let me go back to sleep.” The alarm goes off again and this time I think, At eighty-six years of age, hearing the cellphone alarm, no matter how low I set the volume, is just as irritating as the old buzzing sound of the electric clock I used in the 1980s. I have never enjoyed the sound of an alarm clock. The blasted thing always goes off when I’m dreaming and this morning the dream is about my baby love, Candis. I slowly close and open my eyes as I struggle to wake from sleep and the dream about my wife.

My eyes wearily pry themselves open and I roll over to the right, grunting even more in my eff to reach my cellphone. Electronic devises were supposed to make our lives easier and more enjoyable. Somebody lied to us, because they don’t, they never have!

The rolling action instigates my bodily functions to release a stream of foul smells and noisy sounds into the room. Great, I think, I’m gassy. No more fi soup for me!

I see the phone and stretch my right arm to grab it. Ouch, my shoulders still hurt after all these years. After a short sigh, my thoughts continue, thanks Dad for the DNA. I’ll exercise after breakfast; I don’t want to lose my strength. Being old is like drinking two or more cups of coff it’s stimulating and creates a sense of urgency. (I smile at my analogy.)

As my body sends more loud stenches into the room I say to
myself, Heaven help me. Wow! It’s ripe in here, I’m glad Candis
isn’t here to smell my bounty. Holding the phone in my right hand,
I swipe the screen to the right to finally turn off the alarm. With the
alarm off, I pass gas a couple more times and roll from my side onto
my back to rest my aching shoulders before getting out of bed. After
about five minutes, I decide to take a pain pill. I’ve had shoulder
and forearm pain for almost thirty-six years. Again, thanks for the
genetics, Dad, I am your son. Sighing, Okay, it’s time to get my butt
out of bed. More sighing, I just need ten more minutes sleep.

I don’t move from bed and in short order my body completely
relaxes. By 6:40 a.m., I am fast asleep when a chime alarm on the
phone goes off. Initially the alarm is not heard; however, it continues
to chime and I eventually hear the noise. “Crap, all I want is to rest!
Who’s calling me?” I sigh again, sit up, and grab the phone, only
to see it is a reminder for my 9:00 a.m. appointment. “Oh, yeah I
forgot! I see Dr. Aman this morning about my lab results. Okay,
time to get up, Lance.”

Still exhausted, I sit on the edge of my bed and slide my feet
into flip-flops. I dreamed about baby. I don’t remember the details
of the dream, except that she looked at me and blew me a kiss. I
miss her so much. I’ll see her again and soon. Hmm, soon I’ll see
see Mom, Dad, and so many others. Lord, I’m looking forward to
that day.

After slowly standing up, I make my way into the bathroom,
knees stiff and popping from a prior injury. Coupled with being
overweight, it makes walking somewhat arduous. Other than pain in my shoulders, forearms, knees, high cholesterol, and diabetes,
I’m in good shape for an octogenarian.

These days I’m not as heavy as I was in my sixties. Today I
weigh 180 and I’m about eighteen pounds over my ideal body
weight of 162 pounds. Thirty years ago, I weighed 235 pounds. I
used to joke that I had a body made by pecan pie and praline and
cream ice cream. My primary care physician and wife successfully
lobbied me about changing my diet, and over the years they
eventually wore me down into making subtle changes to my diet,
like drinking more water and eating less salt and sugar.

My wife, Candis, is visiting friends and relatives in Michigan.
Twenty-seven years ago we married, and consequentially Candis
gave me four stepchildren, five grandchildren, and lots of
godchildren. I never thought I’d be a father, much less a stepfather,
but God always has surprises. I’ve learned that what I expect will
happen in life is often not what occurs. Sometimes—perhaps most
times—I have gotten what I did not want or expect; that has been
my experience with life and God.

After brushing my teeth I enter my closet to begin dressing for
my medical appointment. Most mornings while I dress my mind
wanders into a conversation with God. Since my late forties, I have
routinely used the quiet of the morning hours to talk with God about
my life, mistakes, hopes, as well as fears that life will keep throwing
curveballs at me. God, You old man, what else do You have for me?
Life has not unfolded the way I expected or wanted, but it has been
good and I have been blessed. Through Candis you have given me
more children than I wanted or deserved. I was not prepared for all
the young adults and the pandemonium they bring. You’ve blessed
me, thank You. Why You blessed me is a question I have and will
continue to ponder for the remainder of my life. You know how I
am, how I was back in…. My eyes mist with tears, but my prayer is interrupted by the ringing of the doorbell. Now what? I yell from
the master bedroom in the back of the house, “Just a minute! I’m
coming!” Where’s my socks and shoes? Sighing once more, I guess
I’ll leave my flip-flops on.

The doorbell rings again.

“I’m coming, hold on!”

Ding dong! Ding dong!

“I said I’m coming! What’s the urgency?”

Ding dong! Ding dong!

Grunting, I think, If it is one of the kids or grandkids I’m
going to ship them off to some uncharted country along with their
grandmother. We can’t get away from these barbarians. They’re
always hungry.

I reach for the doorknob and quickly pull open the door.

“What?” I shout without first seeing who is ringing the doorbell.

Standing in front of me is a black man about five feet ten inches
tall with a receding hairline, leaving him bald on top. His white
hair is pulled back into dreadlocks that are tied into a ponytail on
the back of his head and he sports a neatly cropped white beard
and moustache. He is approximately sixty years old and wearing
mirrored aviator sunglasses and beaming a wide smile.

“May I help you?” I say to the person standing front of me while
silently thinking, What does this old man want?

“Who are you calling old?” replies the person at the door. The
man senses that I do not recognize him, “Oh, excuse me.” He bends
his head down, breaking eye contact with me and removing his
sunglasses. The stranger continues to talk as he slowly raises his
head, “I hope this refreshes your memory?”

I look into the eyes of the stranger and shout, “Tat! Is it you,
Tatami Ah Mi?”

“Yes, old friend, it is me.”

“Look at you. Why, you don’t look a day over sixty. How long
has it been since we last saw one another?” I grin at my old friend.
Tatami replies, “It has been exactly thirty years, my friend.”

“It’s good to see you. Oh, excuse me, come in. It’s hot outside
and I can’t see you with the sun behind you and beaming in my
face. Come in so I may get a good look at you.” I stick my right
hand out to shake Tatami’s hand.

Tatami looks at me and opens his arms up for a hug. We embrace
and then I hold the front door open to allow him entry into my home.

“My, oh, my, this is a wonderful surprise, my friend,” I say,
closing the door. “Come with me into the den where the lighting is
better so I can see you more clearly without the sun’s glare. I can’t
tell you how this surprise has made my day!”

Tatami follows me into the den where I offer him some coffee
and motion for him to have a seat on the sofa. While moving
towards the sofa, Tat asks me, “Lance, do you still drink Jamaican
Blue Mountain or have you changed coffee beans?”

“Yes, I still drink it quite often, but not every morning because
it’s so expensive. But I still think it’s the best coffee in the world.”

“Are you still using flavored creamer in your coffee?” asked
Tatami.

“You know old habits are hard to change, my friend. Have you
eaten breakfast?”

“Indeed, habits are hard to break. No breakfast or coffee for me,
but thank you for asking. If you’re hungry, don’t let me stop you
from eating.”

“I’m not hungry. My wife is away visiting relatives and that
gives me an opportunity to eat what I want and I’m taking full
advantage of it. But don’t tell her I told you that.” I smile and
continue, “Pardon my clothing; I was about to get dressed when
you rang the doorbell so I rushed to put something on. Hey, that
reminds me, why were you ringing my doorbell like that? One ring
is sufficient. I see you still have jokes.”

“Of course I do. I like grabbing people’s attention. I got your
attention, didn’t I?”

“Lord, help me. I’ve forgotten what it’s like to be in the peanut
gallery.” I reply while shaking my head, sighing and laughing. “My
friend, what brings you to town and how long are you staying? If
you don’t have a place to stay, you are welcome to stay here with
me. My home is your home.”

“Thank you, Lance. I’m….”

“How did you do that?” I interrupted. “You have not aged. You
must be in your mid-nineties, around ninety-five to ninety-seven,
yet you look the same as you did thirty years ago. If I didn’t know
you, I’d think you’re in your mid-sixties. Are you maintaining your
youthful appearance through plastic surgery or the use of human
growth hormones?”

“You know me, Lance, I’m timeless.” Tatami says laughing.

“As I was about to say, I’m not staying. I’m only passing through, I
through while I was in the area I would visit you.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you. I’m glad you made time for
me.”

“I’m glad you’re married.”

“Yes, I am; do you remember the woman that took care of
Dad?”

“Yes, I do. Her name is Candis.”

“That’s correct. Well, I married her. We’ve been married for
twenty-eight years. You know I married late, I was fifty-nine at the
time. I’m sorry you missed the wedding. If I had had your address,
I would have invited you.”

“I’m looking forward to meeting Candis. God has blessed you.”
“Indeed, I am blessed.”

“Lance, do you remember how we met and the conversations
we used to have?”

“Uh, yes, I remember parts of those conversations and yes, I
remember the evening that we met. I cannot forget that moment.
You entered my life during a chaotic season. Back then I struggled
with Mom’s death, with providing care for Dad, and managing the
affairs of my parents’ estate.”

“Good, I want you to write a memoir of those events, our
conversations, and the insight you’ve gained from your relationship
with God.”

“What? Why?”

“God intends to use it.”

“Okay? ‘God intends to use it’ is all I get? Come on, man, I
forgot you have ways that are beyond us mere mortals. You’ve
shared some things with me that I am still grasping to understand
and accept. Your insight about God is profound and I know you
have firsthand knowledge in what you believe. You birthed in me
an interest in physics, astronomy, Hebrew religious history and cultural anthropology, religion, and other related subjects. I’ve even
started a book collection to gain better understanding of what you’ve
shared with me. I am not confident that I’m the right person for
this. I think you need someone with a formal education in religion,
a person with a Ph.D. in theology from an Ivy League university
should write about God.” I sigh then continues with, “Besides, I’ve
forgotten what it’s like being around you. You’ve blessed my life,
but there were moments when you either got on my last nerve or
just left me baffled.”

“That’s why you’re the ideal person for this effort. God will
use your frustration, anger, happiness, hopefulness, and all of your
other emotions and qualities to help others have relationship with
Him.”

“Tat, I’m eighty-six! My memory, while still sharp, is fading; I
might confuse events, people, and places.”

Tatami rises from the sofa and walks to the recliner I am sitting
in. He extends his right index finger, making gentle contact with my
forehead and says, “Remember everything.”

A jolt of energy forms a crown around my head and bursts down
my spine. The experience pushes my body deeper into the recliner.
The sensation surprises me and I am further amazed that my mind
feels expansive. Images and thoughts, buried in the canyons of
my memory, are pulled forward into my short-term memory. It
feels like those events, some thirty years old, happened yesterday.
I realize that I can recall experiences from three decades ago as
though they are in real time. Some of the memories I’m recalling
include dates, locations, people, and sensory experiences like odors,
color, sounds, and tastes. The excitement of this moment leaves me
gasping for air. I’m not in danger of suffocating, my body is merely
overstimulated.

About thirty seconds into the experience I hear Tatami say,
“Now you have no excuses. Write the memoir or journal. Address it
to your family. When done, place it into an airtight and waterproof
container and bury it on your property. Say nothing about it to
anyone other than Candis and instruct her to remain quiet about it,
too. At the appointed time, the container will surface and be found
by the person for whom God intends it. That person’s task is not for
me to discuss. What I want you to believe and understand is that this
is a work started by God and God will help you, and will bring it to
conclusion. My friend, have confidence in this. Tap into the same
faith and confidence in God that you discovered thirty years ago.
You know what I’m referring to. Now my friend, go back to sleep.
Sleep peacefully. I must leave, but we will see each other again.”

I feel sleep rapidly overcoming me, “Wait…you told me…
read…Bible…do you re…mem...blur.” My body twitches and I
begin to fall asleep.

“Yes, I remember that conversation. The time still has not come
for you to read that particular Bible. But I am true to my word.
One day you will read it and will marvel at the wonders of God.
On that day, we will read it together. Until that moment comes, I
grant you some knowledge and use of the language used to write
the Bible you saw. This is the holy language, and it will inspire the
one chosen, your descendant, to read your memoir and be launched
into their divine calling. On your kitchen table is a bound document.
It has been titled and the title is translated into English. Use this
document for writing the memoir. God will inspire you. You will
remember everything. Enjoy writing it all. My friend, I love you.
My son and I are with you always.”

My snoring eventually awakens me. “Snort! Huh! What? Tat!
Tatami, are you still here?” Stretching and yawning, I slowly stand
up from the recliner. Rubbing my eyes, I ask myself, was it all a dream? I look at my watch and see that it’s early afternoon. I better
eat. That dream seemed real. I slowly make my way to the entrance
of the kitchen where I’m stopped in my tracks.

On the kitchen table is a bound document.

That was no dream. Tat did visit me. I actively search my
mind, trying to remember what happened between us. Oh my
goodness, I remember everything. I remember it all. I’ll order
pizza. Tat, You’ve done it again. I’m stunned by Your behavior.
Okay, God, I think I understand, I’ll start writing. You tell me the
order and I’ll record it all.

I walk to the table and sit in the chair immediately in front of
the journal. Next to the journal is a pen. I place my right hand on the
journal and again experiences energy that forms a crown around my
head and passes down my spine. This time the experience lasts only
a couple of seconds. Pulling the journal closer to me, I see the title,
written in the language used to document the Bible I want to read. I
run the fingers of my right hand over the inscription and again feel
a mild burst of energy around my head. I smile as tears collect and
slowly fall from my eyes because I understand what I am reading.
“Thank You, Lord. Thank You. Thank You for bringing Tat into my
life,” I whisper softly, wiping the tears from my eyes.

“Tat, that is an appropriate title: Entangled, subtitled ‘The
Treacherous Snare of the Father of Lies.’”

The title triggers my memory to when Tat explained to me the
meaning of two very important names that would become a big
part of my life. He said that the name Easel Riff Tho is an anagram
for Father of Lies found in John 8:44 and Siujestes Emhash is an
anagram for Jesus the Messiah found in Matthew 1:1.

“What shall we write about first, God? What should be the first
chapter?” Mental images appear in my mind. “Ah…the other side
followed by the dreams. Yes, I’ll start writing.”

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