waking up

it was a saturday morning. her son slept in while she rose early to have coffee and time with father god. it was her usual routine nearly every day, coffee and worship before anything else.

she went into the kitchen to make breakfast for the two of them. buster the cat took his place on a stool opposite her across the counter. he liked to observe what his ‘mummy’ did in the kitchen. she was the only mum he’d ever known, the first living creature he saw when he opened his eyes as a kitten.

with breakfast going on the stove, she called to her growing teenager to come downstairs. it wasn’t long after her call she heard his footsteps on the stair treads. his face was ashen when he got to the main floor. he was upset, nearly in tears.

“honey, whatever is the matter?” “mom, i had two dreams last night. one them really shook me up.”

she was silent as she waited for him to gather himself. when he was seated at the table, she quietly encouraged him. “tell me.”

“well, the first one upset me the most. i’ll tell you that one.” and he began to describe the dream to her.

“i saw this field with all these huge rocks in it. except the rocks weren’t rocks. they were people all curled up, sleeping. and they needed to be woken up.

 

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photo credit: pixabay

 

some of the rocks (people) woke up real easy when someone touched them. others took more effort, like they had to be shaken. and the last group was very hard to wake up. it took a long time. it was like they were dead.” his voice trembled.

she drew in a breath, then asked him the question. “which group were you in?”

“i was in the last group.” her heart cried inside, but she said nothing. instead, she served them breakfast and they continued to talk about the dream. she knew what it meant. she saw it in the future.

it was specific to the next awakening father god was bringing to his beloved humanity and creation. it was the manifestation of the sons of god. it was the restoration of all things. father had spoken to her about this on their walks.

now, her son had gotten a glimpse of what some of it would look like. and it would not be easy. it would take love, patience, grace, all those gifts father had given to his people.

when he was done eating, he went back to his room to write the dreams in his notebook. she kept those dreams tucked away for safe keeping. the one with the rocks was especially important.

years went by. she’d moved across the country. she gave the recordings of the dreams back to him during the packing process.

more years went by. it was time for the awakening to begin. it began slowly at first. she heard the sound, a great rumbling from the deep ocean waters on the west coast. she heard it in her spirit and felt the vibration as she drove highway 101 south, the coastal highway. it was the anniversary of asuza street, a monumental spiritual anniversary.

two more years passed. holy spirit reminded her of her son’s dream of the field of rocks that were really people. she asked her son about his dreams, but he didn’t remember them. she felt some sadness. part of the dream had come to pass. but all was not lost.

it was time for the people to wake up, for creation to wake up. the ones who were already awake ran quickly to awaken the ones who were light sleepers. they jumped right up and ran to wake up others. and so it began.

as she talked with her son on the phone one night, she talked about her adventures here in her new home, how they reminded her of narnia and all they learned from father god watching those movies.

he was silent as he listened to her tell stories with passion and excitement. she asked him, “don’t you remember?”

his response caught her off guard. “no, i really don’t. you do sound like you’ve lost it, though, mom.” he laughed a little bit.

then she remembered his dream again. he was in the group that was the hardest to wake up. so she would love him and remind him who he really was until he was fully awakened.

are you awake?

(copyright © 2017 jane doe)

 

 

 

 

taking back the name

options were limited and none of them were good. she could run away, but to where and to whom? and who would believe the stories about what really went on at home? did anyone really see her? she felt like the invisible child, even as the oldest.

she heard a voice say, “no one would believe you anyway.” at the age of fifteen, she wasn’t certain who that voice belonged to, but it might be right.

on the outside, their family looked pretty much the same as the other farm families in the area. she never stayed at friends’ homes long enough to know what was real and what was show. one of the neighbor kids had a mini bike that he used to taunt their dog. clearly, there were problems there.

no one heard what happened inside the four walls of the house, or in the barn, or the fields. maybe other farm families were all messed up, too.

she only knew she wanted out. there was no safe place, no haven, no peace. maybe she could go to new york, become a model. anything was better than here. she moved out of the house the summer after graduation. it was too painful and chaotic to stay at home.

a couple years went by, along with a couple of moves and job changes. those were manageable even in her own instability. but then the call came. her mother was hysterical, not making much sense. then her dad got on the phone. something about him having an affair, them getting a divorce. it all blurred together, all the years of fighting, the strife, the fear, the abuse. all of it came spilling out. and it was too much.

now she simply wanted to disassociate and distance herself from all that identified her to the family. it was so broken, such a mess. it felt shameful. their family name was dishonored.

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photo credit: pixabay

for months, she thought of different name combinations that would work, thinking she would legally change her name. she never did. but she no longer identified with that family name. it was just too painful.

the pain got worse before it got better. years went by. people died. perspectives changed. and the big move happened. it was the hardest and it was the best. healing came, layer by layer. the more she cooperated with father god, the faster it went.

distance helped. she could be who she was now. no one was looking over her shoulder, and she no longer needed permission to fly out of the cage and be free.

her mother’s health waned, so there was the occasional trip home. the mommy wounds were deep. forgiveness didn’t come so easily; it was a choice of her will, and nothing else. she certainly didn’t feel it. so she just kept choosing it.

the daddy wounds were different. abandonment, neglect, abuse and blah, blah, blah. the list could go on and on if she let it. family members were getting old. people were dying.

and there was the truth that couldn’t be denied: father god had placed her with her parents. he knew what she could and would overcome. and he said he would cause it all to work for her good.

she and the big daddy talked about the earthly dad quite a lot. “i get that he’s never going be the father i would like him to be in this life. you get to do that for me. i’m good with it now. but, i would just really like it if he would take an interest in who i am and what I’m about. for a minute.”  daddy god didn’t say anything. she knew he heard, so she went on with what she was doing.

then, on a friday night, she missed a call from her dad while she was swimming. concern rose quickly. the only time he ever called was on her birthday. did someone die? was the family okay?

she called him back only to get a message saying his voicemail wasn’t set up. well, of course it wasn’t. she shook her head and tried one brother. he didn’t answer. she left a message.

mom didn’t answer. her voicemail wasn’t set up either. what was the matter with these people and their technology? she called her sister, got her voicemail, left her a message.

next she tried her son. he answered, but hadn’t heard anything. “hey mom, i’m always the last to know. they don’t even invite me to christmas until the same day.” they laughed. she promised to let him know if she heard anything.

she called the other brother. he answered. “i haven’t heard anything, so everyone must be fine.” sigh of relief. if he didn’t know, yes, everyone was okay. and the sister texted back. she hadn’t heard anything contrary, either.

this was puzzling. dad calls on a day not her birthday, doesn’t leave a message and no one is dead. something was at work. she could feel it.

the next morning, her father called her back, “hey, ******, i saw you called last night.”

“yes, i called because i saw you called me. you only ever call on my birthday, so i thought someone died. i was frantically calling my siblings, mother and son to be sure everyone was good!” he laughed, she laughed.

then he asked her the question she wanted to hear. “so, what are you up to, what are you doing? bam. there they were, the open-ended questions that gave her permission to share pieces of her life with the man she knew as her earthly father.

she answered him with confidence and gusto, pleasure and delight. as she shared the details of her life, she heard how full it was, how rich she was in experience, deep friendships, location and above all, fulfillment in her relationship with father god. he was the one who made it all work.

her dad’s initial call? it was a pocket dial. but not really. it was really a set up to answer her prayer and she knew it.

when they were ready to end the call, for the first time ever, she blessed him with words he had never heard before, “i bless you and i love you, dad.” “i love you, too,” came his response. she encouraged him. “stay in touch. you can call on more than one day of the year.” she knew she’d have to be the one to call, and that was okay.

she had released him from expectations he could never meet. father god would be what she needed when others simply could not. and it was all right.

in her heart, the family name became honorable once again. she took back her maiden name, and it was good.

(copyright © 2017 jane doe)

 

 

being seen

it was the first holiday weekend of the summer. it was unseasonably warm. temperatures hadn’t been this high over memorial weekend since 1995.

she had no spectacular plans for the long weekend, save for some reading, rest and a swim. on saturday, she went to the marina for a few hours to sit in the park with a book on the physics of heaven.

she found room under a large tree with others who were enjoying the day. kids squealed from the cold water as they ran back and forth through the sprinkler in the play area.

she settled back in her lawn chair to finish the book she’d begin 1 1/2 years earlier. the chapter she was engrossed in revealed the laws of quantum physics as they related to the power of words. it explained infinite possibilities with both words and intent. fascinating, weighty stuff.

she could only read one sentence at a time, and often had to re-read it several times to absorb the content. her efforts were complicated by the swarms of box elders bugs flying around her head. they began to land. all around her. in her book. on her head. all over her body and the chair. they didn’t bite, they were just annoying. the one that flew down into her shirt required special extraction.

she commanded her angels to keep the bugs off of her. it helped a little bit, but not entirely. as she swatted the bugs away, a young man came flying over the railing above her. he landed in front of her chair and ran down to the picnic table where his mom and younger sister were sitting.

he appeared to be nine or ten years old, quite a handsome young man. he had a lot of energy. he came toward her opposite the sidewalk and began to climb up the concrete wall and over the railing to the deck above. to her dismay, he began to jump from the railing to the concrete below. it was a good ten foot jump. and really not safe.

she watched him without watching him. who was he putting on the show for? he was not careless. he was good. gymnastics would be a great outlet for him. still, this was not safe. she commanded angels to keep him from jumping. his activity decreased but did not stop.

what was going on with the angels? the bugs didn’t stop landing on her and this kid was still performing his circus act. she looked at him more closely when she thought he wasn’t looking. his face was sweet, innocent. there was something else, too. she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

he began to jump from the top of the railing again. when he landed hard on the concrete just feet away from her, she could stay silent no more. “honey, i need you to stop jumping from up there. it’s not safe. i don’t want you to get hurt.” once a mom, always a mom.

he looked at her as he caught his breath. that last jump had knocked his stuffing loose. his expression shocked her. instead of being angry, he was relieved, almost happy.

someone had paid attention to him, cared about his wellbeing. he looked at her, saying, “okay,” as he nodded his head. then he got up and ran over to his mom at the picnic table.

well. that was just odd. he didn’t get mad at her for speaking up. he obeyed what she asked. he’d been acting out for attention, any attention.

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photo credit: pixabay

he felt loved when he was seen. when she asked him to stop so he wouldn’t get hurt, he felt cared for. he mattered to her. his well-being mattered.

and it didn’t matter if this mom wasn’t his. she just cared. and she told him.

his daring jumps were the only way he knew to get attention, to be seen. he didn’t have to break an arm for her to say something to him, to show him love and care.

people act out in many ways to be seen. desperate for love, yearning for someone to say, “i see you. you matter. i love you.”

any attention is better than no attention. so someone might show love.

(copyright 2017 © jane doe)

reconnaissance and refreshing

her life had gotten out of balance with too much work and not enough play. it was no secret she was a type a, often needing friends to give her permission to slow down. she’d given herself a day trip to the beach, sensing jesus beckoning her with his hand. it was time.

when saturday morning arrived, she slept in an hour or so. when she did get up, she went about her preparations quickly and purposefully to have a full day at the beach.

coffee in hand, she packed the car and drove down to the highway, turning right to go across the mountain pass. only half a mile down the road, her car seemed to steer itself into a u-turn in the middle of the road. now, she was headed west taking a different route to the same destination.

this was the second time in a month she’d done a u-turn in the middle of the highway. at least there were no flashing lights in her rearview mirror this time. that was a different story. the prompt to change directions did signal that something was afoot.

 

Megler Bridge
photo credit: pixabay

memories began to flood back as she thought about the other times she’d been on this highway with him. she thought of the places they went. there was the coast guard museum, baked alaska on pier 11, that crazy long, high bridge that crossed into the next state. they were good memories but she wasn’t going to those places without him today.

today was about rest, refreshing, anticipating good things to come. they would begin again right where they left off, but better than before. they would be stronger as a couple. father said so. he knew.

previous dinner conversations at baked alaska came back to her. how he watched her expressions as she talked about seeing them in the future, hand in hand jumping off a cliff filled with joy and excitement. it was great vision for a great life. they’d eaten there three times. three was a good number.

oh nuts, she missed him. and she was fatigued and burned out. tears came to her eyes. father said, “when they come, let them come.” she nodded. she knew what was being worked out in each of them was best.

she took one deep breath and exhaled. and another. she did it until her shoulders began to relax. after driving about 45 miles, the tension begin to lift off of her.

the drive was peaceful. it was early, not too many people were out yet. in the distance, she saw the fog drop down to kiss the tops of the mountains. it was delicate and breathtaking. father was a master at romancing her through creation. he never failed to win her heart.

she was within city limits when she saw the black, unmarked law enforcement vehicle pass her in the opposite lane. it wasn’t a local leo.

no road trip was complete without some undercover work. something was going on in this port city. whatever that something was was going to shift from darkness to light.

she went into tongues, and the revelation came quickly. human trafficking. this is a port city, of course it would be that.

like deborah had done in the old days, she judged this activity as unrighteous work of the enemy, commanding it to cease and desist in the name of jesus.

she released light into the darkness commanding all these hidden things be exposed. then she called to the prodigal sons to return home to their father. he was waiting for them, loving them right where they were. she released angels to release all the captives.

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photo credit: pixabay
her work done, she drove on to the beach to meet father, jesus and holy spirit for the day.
(copyright © 2017 jane doe)

the unwrapping

not long after they met, she began to see layers wrapped around him and weights upon his shoulders and back. the layers were like bandages wrapped tightly around a mummy while the weights were heavy, unbearable yokes.

the heaviness weighed him down and the layers restricted his movement and freedom, robbing him of the joy he had been gifted with in his mother’s womb.

she first experienced his joy at the airport as they waited in a long line. he was humming a happy little tune. she closed her eyes and listened when he first began. she felt herself becoming lighter. her cares were leaving. his joy was spilling over to her.

delighted, she turned to her left to look at him. “what is that?” she asked. he grinned and stopped humming to answer.

“it’s sesame street. the mahna mahna song.” she squealed in laughter. “what? really?? i love it!!” his humming had changed the atmosphere around them. it made her laugh and that shifted it even more.

during shared adventures, holy spirit told her about him. she shared with him what she could.  she told him about his joy, about the power it wielded against the enemy, how it would carry him through storms.

it was infectious with others, too. it broke oppression, pulling them out of their own pit so they could see, so they could breathe again.

she gave him oil to help him sustain his power. it was even called ‘joy.’ she wore it every day to maintain her own joy. everywhere she went, people asked what she had on. it lifted them. they wanted what she had, too.

the enemy knew the power of his joy. he came to steal it, to oppress it, to squelch it. and when the attacks came, he did not have the strength to put it on. his mind was attacked, his sleep was attacked. and it snowballed.

one afternoon, they went on a road trip. she could tell when he picked her up that something was wrong. she prayed in her thoughts. “holy spirit, what should I do?” he answered her quickly. “pray in tongues and touch him as often as you can.” this became her protocol whenever they were driving together.

christmas came. they went away for a few days. the enemy was not pleased he was with her light for an extended period of time. the battle intensified quickly.

she looped the same worship song in the car for three hours as they drove. “nothing is wasted,” by elevation worship. he drove, she worshipped, sometimes weeping. he was being unwrapped from bondage.

they went out for dinner christmas eve. she’d made reservations at one of their favorite restaurants. it had a view. their server seated them at the same table they always sat at. they smiled at each other knowingly. it was ‘their’ place. dinner was lovely.

they ate in silence, listening intently to the family behind them with the very bright little girl and her very british grandfather. memories were made at both tables that night.

later on, they settled in to watch a christmas carol. holy spirit showed her the weights on him again. she placed her right hand on his back in various places, and holy spirit gently removed several of them.

the intercession began soon after. she put on her ear buds and worship music. she took hold of his right hand with her left hand and held it tight as holy spirit moved.

her body shook and she wept silently as healing took place deep in his soul. he thought it was about her, and she let him think so. it was better that way.

the unwrapping continued. soon, he would be completely free.

free to see, free to hear, free to feel, free to live and free to love.

 

unwrapping
photo credit: pixabay

 

(copyright 2017 jane doe)

 

 

 

and so it went

they’d only been together a few weeks, still young in their relationship.

the end of this day found them at the marina for a walk along the river. after the walk, they settled on their usual park bench. they’d had conversations here before.

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photo credit: jane doe

he’d gotten more bad news. he was hurting. badly. his expression showed it. so did his body language. she could feel his pain.

he leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, head in his hands. she knew he felt defeated, that he had nothing to offer. she knew she would walk with him as he healed and learned his true value.

she rubbed his back lightly with her right hand. after a few minutes of silence, he slowly turned his head back toward her. then came the question. “what do you want from me?”

she drew in a breath and waited for holy spirit to give her words. “i don’t want anything from you until you’re ready. i promise you this: whatever the nature of our relationship,  i will love you fiercely.”

he had never heard anything like this.

she didn’t want anything from him and she would love him anyway. he had no response.

she had no more words. but she’d said it and it was out there.

and so it went.

(copyright 2017 jane doe)

 

access denied

she was out with her family riding bicycles. they were traveling a path representing rich history, riding from boston to lexington as paul revere had so famously done.

this day would also be marked in heaven.

as she rode, she released declarations of freedom and resurrection life to the people and to creation. she released ‘angels of original american intent’ to move, to act on the words she was speaking.

her words were powerful, full of love, purpose, restoration. and they did not go unchallenged.

the enemy sent troops to disrupt the work. it happened quickly. her best efforts to avoid the crash weren’t enough.

she had the wisdom and presence of mind to quickly reach out for prayer from friends. those prayers pushed back the demons’ intent to take her body and pieces of her soul captive.

one friend got on the phone with her and began to pray in tongues. she saw infirmity and trauma trying to enter through her knee. she commanded all trauma to be loosed from her friend’s physical cells. she commanded the ligaments, tendons and muscles to go back into place.

the assignment was cancelled, access denied. indeed, there was movement in the knee immediately. healing was occurring.

 

Access Denied
photo credit: pixabay

as they talked, holy spirit showed them how the plan and attack happened in the spirit. pride stood firmly in the man who wouldn’t give way on the path. his unwillingness to yield gave place to leviathan to twist her body and knee in ways they were never designed to move as she crashed to the ground.

holy spirit brought more revelation: it’s at the point of attack when trauma or injury occur that all demonic spirits attempt to come and attach themselves.

it’s also the place where we submit (accept or yield to a superior force or to the authority or will of another person) ourselves to god, resist the enemy, and he flees. it’s written and it is what it is. the power and protection available to us in coming under god’s authority is unparalleled.

this authority protects, heals and delivers all of god’s children, redeemed and unredeemed alike, to show them they are loved and cared for without limit.

and the same resurrection power that raised jesus from the dead exists in every redeemed child of god.
our bodies cry out for healing. they’re relieved when they’re blessed and prayed for because they desire to live, move, work and play the way father designed them to function.

there is no force than can stand against authority flowing from love and intimacy with father god.

time is not a factor in this process. god is not in time. jesus moved in and out of it.

he told us to be as he was in this world. this means we can go back to the time of the attack, be positioned at the point of entry and cancel that event. healing and deliverance occur.

when oppression is lifted and the blinders are removed, people see god clearly.

they see he is good. and always has been.

what the enemy means for evil, god uses for good.

(copyright 2017 jane doe)