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Our 14th Wedding Anniversary

Over the course of 14 years, my beautiful wife and I have covered much territory and I am blessed to have been all over the world together with her. We have lived in three continents (Europe / Asia / North America), five countries (Russia / Poland / Saudi Arabia / Qatar / USA), seven cities, and 15 apartments/houses.

I began praying for Iwona when I was seven. Even though I did not know her name, I knew God knew who she was and where she was located. I prayed that wherever she was on earth, for God to encounter her, for her protection, for her purity, for her to prophesy over me and for our paths to cross in God's timing.

In 1991, during an extended fast in Russia, God asked me about the list that I had pertaining to my requirements of a perfect wife.

He said, "Do you want what you think is best or what I think is best?"

I said, "Of course--whatever You think is best!"

He told me to throw away my little list because it would be someone I would never suspect. One month later, Iwona arrived in Moscow to join our ministry staff. At that time, she spoke four languages. English was not one of them.

After a month, I was invited to her 26th birthday party. I observed at the party that Iwona was not eating, so I asked her roommate, Ania, who told me that Iwona was fasting. I asked Ania to interpret for me as I spoke with Iwona. I asked Iwona how long is she fasting and she said, "eighteen days". I thought 18 days was an odd number and then asked, "Why eighteen days?" She said that there were 18 staff members on our new church plant and that she was focusing each day on a different staff member. I was amazed and provoked!

I asked if she had prayed for me yet. She said she would be praying for me in two days. I asked her to tell me if God gave her anything for me. She kindly agreed. Two days later, there was a knock at my door. Ania handed me a three-page prophecy that she translated for me from Iwona. I closed my door, read it, and then cried for two days. I had never had a prophecy given to me before and this one melted my heart. It was like a love letter from God. I asked God, "Who is this Polish girl?"

He said, "This is the one you have been praying for since you were seven." At that point, I knew! I would have never guessed a four-year-older, Polish, Catholic girl who didn't speak English would be my wife-to-be.

With a Polish/Russian/English dictionary, we began to share our dreams, goals, hearts desires, visions and plans with each other. I never met someone who thought so much like me in my life.

After spending 11 days with her, at midnight on New Year's Eve, after sledding down a huge hill behind our apartment complex, she came right out and told me, "I did not come to Russia to waste my time in a relationship; I came here to win Russians to the Lord, so tell me if this is going somewhere or I do not have time for you." I gulped. I was not ready to say what God told me, but she threw the ball in my court and I had no choice but to tell her. I then said, "God told me that you are going to be my wife." She said, "Good, God told me you were going to be my husband." I said, "Well, so will you marry me?" She said, "Yes."

We then decided from that moment we would fast again until we each received three confirmations from God that this is His will. Twelve days later we broke the fast and shared with each other the three confirmations we each received.

I called my parents to tell them the good news. They were not to thrilled. Neither was my sending church. It is a long story that I may share at a later date or in our book. I was basically given a decision from my leadership: Leave Iwona and keep my youth group in Moscow or leave Russia and keep Iwona. They gave me a few days to think about it. I told them I did not need a few days; I knew my answer. I told them, "I am keeping Iwona because she is my future." I was told to leave Russia that very week and that I could not meet with the youth group to explain the reasons why I was leaving.

I had to return to America and Iwona to Poland. I was told that I could not see her for one year to prove that this love was true. I did not see her 15 months, as the test I had to pass.

From that cold Russian New Year's eve night in Moscow where I proposed to Iwona, it took two and a half years before all was said and done before we were able to get married!

As life has moved us closer together, we now have three beautiful kids, and she is still the woman of my dreams and always will be!

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insane. Fritzl case again

I did not want to write about it again, but after reading this article quoting the interview of Josef Fritzl with his lawyer, published as an attempt to somehow justify man's actions, I must say, that Mr. Josef's explanations are quite lame. Blaming his childhood upbringing in a Nazi society and his mother's strong personality for his tendencies to be extraordinarily firm and demanding... Blaming his daughter, Elisabeth, for paving the road to her imprisonment by herself, by associating with the wrong crowd, drinking and smoking... Blaming her for being too independent, getting out of his control... Blaming his mind entering into the "vicious cycle, where there is no way out". Blaming his lack of control in regards to raping his daughter often and regularly...

His attempts to gain any bits of sympathy from us, who labeled him as a monster, are endless. His confession of a desire to release the prisoners, stories about bringing them flowers, presents and Christmas trees, his story times about the life "outside", even about his wife Rosemarie being sad not having a contact with her daughter; his care for his daughter well being while pregnant as a result of constant rapes, by allowing her to get educated in the subject of prenatal care and birth and by providing her the necessities to survive this whole time; saying touchy words about building a "new family", bonding times with them, about providing a washing machine and other luxurious equipment... it's all sickening. It's nothing else but keeping control over his slaves, delivering to them bare survival kit day by day, year by year. It's nithing else but shameless admittance of his conscious and focused, deliberate exploitation of others in order to feed his demonic rage, perversion and desires.

He dismisses some parts of Elisabeth's testimony. But guess what, no matter what she says, the whole world will believe her. It's her time to speak up, her time to decide, her time to explain, her time to be number one. It's also her time to forgive.

We've heard enough from Mr. Fritzl. We are ready to hear from the hero herself.

This whole mumbling of his convinces me even more in a fact, that he knew exactly what he was doing, what were the consequences of such a behavior, and with that in mind he continued in his depravity. He wanted this life of 8,516 days of torture to continue.

If the Austrian court will decide that this explanation qualifies as a valid testimony of a person who can't be judged because of his incompatibility with the 'main stream society' morals, then let's examine the other millions who grew up in the same political, cultural and family circumstances. Let's see how many Josefs we can find.

If the Austrian court will decide he is insane, they are insane and we live in an insane world.

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horror in Austria. update 2. Elizabeth and Josef Fritzl

Part 1 Part 2

There was a press conference. More facts were revealed about Josef Fritzl. The cellar which he kept his daughter and her children in for years, was built by himself during 6 years period prior to imprisoning Elizabeth. That's the time he started to rape Elizabeth regularly. He liked it so much and he wanted it to continue for his whole life. Building the dungeon was a way for this heinous crime to be continued. He forced his daughter to help him built the room inside. The cellar had 8 doors, the last two electronically monitored.

For the first 2 days of her captivity Elizabeth was handcuffed to a pole, for the next 9 months, she was kept on a leash, which allowed her only to use the toilet. He raped her about every three days. For the first 9 years Elizabeth and her 3 children were kept in one room, 35m2 (380 square feet), originally designed to be a nuclear shelter. After the 4th child was born, he added 20m2. That suggests that the children were present in the room when he was raping his own daughter year after year. There were also punishment cells in the cellar, with nothing else but bare walls.

He installed a goldfish tank for them to enjoy and he was giving them supplements of vitamin D.

The psychiatric clinic where the family is kept for now.

In the hospital: the family is reuniting daily for meals and play. They are slowly being exposed to the sunlight. Their skin is very pale. Both boys, who spend all their life in the dungeon learned everything they know from their mother or from the TV. They use a mixture of words and communicate with noises that are a mixture of growling and cooing. 5 year old Felix prefers to crawl, although can walk upright. Elisabeth thought them to read and write, but lost a lot of her knowledge. Elisabeth looks as old as her mother.

Josef. He is in prison. He is obsessed with following all the news regarding his case. His lawyer will present the case of mental illness and/or insanity. His fellow prisoners are threatening to kill him. He is in a single cell, with a window, and, his lawyer says: "He is a broken man".

19 year old Kirsten is still in coma. She has never been seen by the doctor or a dentist before. She has lost almost all her teeth.

From the news coverage on May 7th we hear Josef denying him being a monster, being cooperative with the prosecutors and saying, that "if not for him, they all would die".

How long will it take for these victims to even emerge as dignified human beings? Will they be able to forgive? Will they be able to enter into "normal" society and every day life? How strong is Elizabeth that she can even enjoy life as it is now? What will Josef's wife do? How are the children going to relate to each other in the future? I have many questions...

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22 weeks. the movie in the making

Forerunner Films has been making a documentary about this story ( a woman having a baby in the bathroom of an abortion clinic, trying to save the baby after initially wanting to kill it). They started 3 days ago and they should be finished tomorrow night.

It started with a vision which a guy called Ángel Manuel Soto had carried for some time. Ángel is an intercessory missionary at IHOP-KC and a freelance videographer. He also attends The Call Institute (TCI) directed by Lou Engle.

He shared this story with theCall class. Lou Engle and others started to pray for the vision to become reality in the making. This vision became Angel's obsession (some people would use the more appropriate word CALLING). People prayed. In the natural it seemed impossible. No equipment, no money. People prayed. After one of the meetings one girl approached him and offered an amount which was like an injection of faith to look forward to this project.

Then the story goes wild. Through some miraculous intervention, He gets an invitation to chat with the director of Bella movie. People prayed. He flies to Hollywood, spends some time with Alejandro Monteverde, director of Bella. He promises some help. People are praying really seriously now.

That's how what was impossible a month ago, is happening right now. Cinematographer, a friend of Alejandro, flew in, and some of IHOP-KC's Media crew (including my American husband) have been engaging in everything. With the budget they have, they had only 4 days for shooting (this will be the cheapest made documentary ever). They are busy, exhausted, overtired (yesterday they were shooting till 3 am) and overworked. But it's all for His glory.

22 weeks on MySpace22 weeks on Facebook22 weeks Website

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Shooting the film "22 Weeks"

The last three days I have been helping friends of mine shoot a short film about a baby born alive at an abortion clinic. Here is the true story. A woman who was scheduled to have her 22-week-along pregnancy ended at a Florida abortion clinic instead delivered the baby alive in a restroom and says her pleading for help from medical staff went unheeded, even when an employee saw that the tiny boy was moving.

The mother, Angele, who asked that her last name not be used, is now considering legal action against the facility. She is being represented by Liberty Counsel, a nonprofit pro-life and religious-liberty legal organization.

“I counseled with a pretty and petite younger black woman who has a small son,” Angele wrote of her first visit. “Her name began with an L. I do not remember her full name. She explained the process of laminaria insertion. I asked her other questions such as, will they inject saline or urea into the amniotic sac? I was concerned that it would hurt the baby as it generally (from what I’ve read) burns the skin and lungs. I expressed my concerns that he not suffer or feel anything.”

The purpose of inserting laminaria is to dilate the cervix overnight in preparation for the abortion. Angele explained she chose the “labor and delivery process” for her abortion “as opposed to partial birth or having to dismember the child to retrieve him from the uterus/birth canal.”

Angele, who is in her 30s, says she was given Valium “to relax me for the laminaria insertion.”

“The injection burned a lot as it went in. … The discomfort was distracting. I still felt the ‘lams’ as they were being inserted. Dr. Perper told me to relax my muscles and noted that my cervix was slightly soft. I asked him what that meant and he said it was good.”

Digoxin is a drug injected into an unborn baby to cause his or her heart to stop in preparation for what amounts to a stillborn birth. Angele says despite having asked for it, she did not receive the digoxin injection, which she surmises caused the baby to be born alive.

Referring to the digoxin injection, Angele told WND:

“They didn’t do it.”

She says she overheard staff talking about “dig-ing” her – injecting the digoxin – but, after taking a sonogram initially and then quickly taking the machine to another room, the staff, she says, failed to return it to her room. A sonogram machine is used to guide the needle into the unborn baby’s heart.

“I wanted it to be as humane and painless as possible for my son,” she said, choking back tears. “They told me they would guide a needle directly into his heart and it would put him to sleep, and he wouldn’t feel anything.”

“My friend and I took a taxi back to our hotel. We rested up a bit, changed and walked to a nearby restaurant for dinner. That night, all night off and on I could feel the baby still moving. I told my friend this worried me. I remember thinking it must take time to slow down and stop his heart. I was still a little ‘out of it’ from the medicine and just figured I must have been mistaken about how the digoxin was supposed to work. He was still moving when I went to sleep. I was concerned and started to call the after-hours line, but again second-guessed myself.”

“I waited outside, cramping and crying, for the clinic to open,” Angele explained. “My contractions were close. I had been having them for hours. I knocked repeatedly at the door. There was a burgundy truck in the parking lot. Ten to 15 minutes later, Debbie opened the door and let me in.

“I was directed to ‘the room.’ I had been there for a moment the day before and thought it to be a waiting room for family or driving companions. It had a leather sofa and a fabric sofa, both with a white blanket stretched across the seat cushions, a small television and a few magazines.”

However, noted Angele,

“It was not a waiting area – it was the ‘delivery room.’ It was, of course, very cold.”

“My contractions became stronger and more frequent very rapidly. I called for [staff member] Violene, thinking it was time to be moved into another room and wanting to know if I could have anything for pain. She said that medication would stop the contractions and for me to stay right there and again, she would be back. I told her it was almost time; I could just tell, and she told me I was not at all ready. She left. I began to bleed.”

After going to the bathroom, Angele says, “I came back to the sofa, (they both really smelled awful), wrapped up in the wet and sour-smelling blanket, then decided it was better without it. I rocked back and forth on my hands and knees, trying to hold the heating pad to my stomach to both relieve the pain and try to stay warm. I was looking down and saw little smears and spots of dried blood on the floor and an old cotton ball with blood on it by the fabric-covered sofa across from me. Noticing how dirty it was and how no one was in the room or even nearby in the hallway began to make me nervous and uncomfortable. I went right back to the powder room and began to try to push a lot. I thought it might help since I was told I was not nearly ready to deliver.”

“In one agonizing push, I felt and heard something come out. Then immediately another push. I was weak. I just held my head in my hands for a moment. Then I decided to stand up. I looked. There was my baby, the whitish cord and what I thought surely must be the placenta.

“I started sobbing and lay down in the floor. I stared and stared at my son. I was horrified that I had just had him in a commode.”

“His right leg moved. He curled up a bit like he was cold; I screamed for Violene! No one came. I managed to get to the doorway, pants down, blood everywhere and yelled again. I went back to my baby. I heard her say she’d be right there.”

“I showed her Rowan, told her he was alive and moving and to call 911! She took a quick look, said he’s not moving now and she’d be back to take care of things while walking out. I called her again. I was touching Rowan softly and he moved again. I called her back. Rowan jumped, I think startled by the loud sound of my calling for help. I showed her that he was moving and alive. I begged her to hurry and call 911, now!”

“She said for me to lie down and she would get her supervisor. No one came.”

“I continued to try to caress and comfort my son by rubbing his back, tummy and chest. I stroked his precious little head and kept telling him I loved him and we would be OK. I was afraid to move him because I did not want to do anything that might end up hurting him. I pushed my pinky into his little hand and his fingers curled around me. Still no one was coming. I was terrified but trying not to let him know I was scared. I kept telling him what a beautiful son he was and that we were going to be safe soon.”

“I left Rowan for two seconds, grabbed the phone, jumped back into the bathroom to be with him, calling my girlfriend ‘Sharon’ at the same time,” she wrote. “I told her Rowan was alive and no one was helping us to please call an ambulance to the clinic immediately and hung up.

“I stayed beside Rowan talking to him, telling him how strong he was being and how proud I was of him. I told him God must really want us to be together for him to make it through everything he had just been through and that Mommy was so sorry but so happy to have a chance to love him. I told him he was a strong little miracle and that I couldn’t wait for him to meet his brother and sister. I just kept touching him, trying to warm him with my hands and talking to him so he would not feel any more afraid than he already must.

“Then Rowan stopped moving.”

“He was perfect, slightly pale and a little translucent. His eyebrows were pale but wide and well-defined. You could see little hairs on his face and head. He had the tiniest little fingernails and toenails. I noticed they already had a little bit of growth. His mouth was lovely. He was this perfectly formed one pound, one ounce human being. He was beautiful. He had been so strong.

“I wrapped him in [a] blue pad instead of one of the wet blankets. I just kept kissing him and telling him I loved him so much. I told him I was sorry I couldn’t get anyone to help us and I was so sorry for ever coming here.”

“Oddly, she came back within two or three minutes,” Angele wrote. “She was more irritated and insistent than before. I was irritated that she was rushing me and that she did not seem to be in such a hurry when Rowan was alive. Where was she when Violene was supposedly going to get her and we needed her help? She asked again to take him. I flatly refused her. I could tell she was angry. I did not care. I told her that I expected her to leave me alone so I could finish praying with Rowan and that we needed privacy.”

“I was staring at my son, crying softly and noticing the dried blood on the walls. I felt so bad. I felt so helpless. I had been so wrong to come here and yet I felt so lucky to have my son born alive. I wanted to fix and change everything once I saw his precious little face and body. All we needed was someone to get us to safety. I felt so awful that the only thing I could do was tell him we were going to be OK and that would be together forever, that we were strong and a good team.

“I wondered if babies went immediately to heaven. Are they immediately given wisdom, perspective and understanding? Could Rowan see that I loved him? Could he see that I wanted him with me and that I tried to help him stay with me? Could he see everything that happened while he was here?”

“The police asked if I would like them to take Rowan to the funeral home,” she wrote. “I told them that I had made previous arrangements for him to be picked up by the funeral director.”

“I know you’re thinking, ‘How can a Christian possible make that decision?’ – but I think it happens a lot more often than you think.”

This whole story and the pictures are taken from this article.

Report on the autopsy of baby Rowan.

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