masks, lemon juice & juan o’savin

it was sunday morning. she got up early, declaring, “this is the day the lord has made, i will rejoice and be glad in it.” she said it again for good measure, so the liar clearly understood he had no entry today. 

she fed the cat. made coffee. listened to another podcast. in her thoughts, she said, “thank you, lord, that i have a mind like a steel trap.” she would not be ashamed of it again. all the information and data she was absorbing would be critical in the future.

she powered through her morning prayers and prayed in tongues for a bit. then the shopping list came to mind. 

she is a planner. anyone who *knows* her knows this. while some make fun, they are secretly pleased she’s gifted this way. she has a plan for every contingency. wisdom sees ahead and makes plans. #hello. 

there were a few nagging things to get before the truckers went on strike after thanksgiving. holy spirit spoke up, “go get your things.” she messed around on amazon checking prices until he nudged her again with a spiritual cattle prod. angels nearly pushed her out the door. “okay, okay, i’m going!” 

what was the urgency here? timing. timing is everything. 

she walked into the store like she usually did: no makeup, no eyebrows. and no mask. 

pulling up her list on the phone, she quickly filled empty water jugs and grabbed the first few items on the list. after that, she searched out the right aisle to get two bottles of organic lemon juice. a pretty, energetic younger woman with a mask on called her out. “you don’t have a mask on.” 

ugh. another karen. great. she met the woman’s eyes and gave her usual response of a having a medical exemption with barely concealed irritation. the woman said, “oh.” she began walking back down the aisle toward the lemon juice muttering, “mind your own business.” 

when she got to the lemon juice, she discovered she couldn’t reach the large sized bottles. several had been sold, so the remaining stock was at the back of the shelf. the man behind her with a cart came to the rescue, offering to help. he was taller, kind, saying he was happy to help where he could. 

somehow, conversation began. the trucker’s strike in support of the trump administration was the first topic and they quickly learned they were of like minds.  mask conversation ensued (of course it did) and she shared her recent experience with the woman a few minutes earlier. 

as they talked and discussed shared beliefs, a woman joined them from the other direction. no, you can’t make this up, and yes, it sure was..

it was the pretty younger woman who’d asked about her mask. the light bulb came on for all them at the same time. the woman was actually giving her a compliment on not having a mask on, not criticizing her. but because she had a mask on, her smile of encouragement wasn’t visible. oi vey.

she was mortified. that was the first time she’d ever told anyone to mind their own business. they were all laughing. and it was all okay. clearly, father god had set up the entire exchange for them to meet and connect. 

she gave them her contact information. they were stoked at how they met because they didn’t usually shop on sunday morningsneither did she..

it was time to mobilize the local warriors. 

and juan’s o’savin’s new book, “kid by the side of the road,” would be very useful.

Artwork credit: Chris Taylor/SeraphimChris

copyright © jane doe productions llc

obedience and reward

glorious and grueling. those were the best descriptors to tie the whole week together. events and details were interwoven for eternity. god assignments, god moments, god words, god plans, god words. “unconventional.” “stay in wonder.”

you couldn’t make it up. nothing compared as she watched the movie reel of their time together. glorious and grueling. warfare was off the chain, but mercy and grace followed them every day. her love was more tangible and unconditional than it had ever been. she wanted to know what love was. this was new, a new height and a new depth. 

when the week was over, life was different, the apartment too quiet. the struggle to move forward into the next assignment was real. she cried out for help from heaven. once the destination hotel reservations were made, breakthrough came and grace covered the route planning and remaining details.

moving forward was like slogging through knee deep mud. packing was hard. frankly, everything was hard at that point. her heart was shattered but there was no time to manage that. there was work to do. healing could wait but forgiveness could not. forgive willingly, completely, and unconditionally. do it often.

the lord sent help. he always does. the cloud of witnesses is real. one witness showed up with tangible support. she shared jesus with this one in another realm months ago, watching as he crossed into heaven after he received the truth. he was grateful and in turn, was assigned to look after her. they were fast friends now.

as she processed events in her big chair, she heard a knock on the door. she opened it to find the witness standing there. she collapsed into his arms. he held her as she sobbed. he was a good friend.

a few days later, she packed the car and turned her keys over to another faithful friend. this one stood in strength and prayer at home, a significant, critical role.  

an ice storm hit that morning (of course it did) making the first few hours of the journey a minefield. old triggers tried to attach as vehicles slid into ditches. holy spirit coached her, encouraging her to focus. the triggers found no place to land. 

as she drove, her witness friend slipped into the passenger seat next to her. his mood was somber, like hers. she thanked him for showing up, grateful for his presence as they drove the highways and interstates together. the miles were filled with prayer, worship, strategy and tears, a different order every day. 

she spent the first night in peoria, nearly choking on her dinner as she watched, ‘the property brothers,’ on hgtv. the enemy held nothing back as unsuspecting viewers were encouraged to furnish their homes with freemasonry symbology designed on furniture and flooring. symbolism will be their downfall.

then came columbus. plenty to pray through as she saw the lexner name on several buildings. these bloodline families are arrogant, believing their good works will cover their evil deeds. this is not how it works. 

on the third day, she crossed over the beltway. authority was granted and she kicked into gear. time to work. she quickly put the witch covens on lockdown, severely limiting any plans they had to disrupt the worship event scheduled for sunday night. 

praying in tongues, she navigated the george washington parkway, laughing out loud as father said, “welcome home, honey.” she gave him an affectionate eyeroll and shook her head. that would be another conversation at a different time. 

the hotel was dark (of course it was.) she put angels to work cleaning her room, settled in, ate dinner and crashed. exhaustion was right there, waiting for her agreement to disable her body and take over the agenda. she pushed it back and focused on the work. 

seventeen is a lovely number, a favorite number used by the elites. seventeen intelligence agencies are strategically placed in the freemasonry architecture of the district of Columbia, which has also served as the military arm of the elite until president trump. symbolism will be their downfall. nothing could stop what was coming. every patriot had a part to play; she was playing hers. 

she slept fitfully, thoughts racing through her mind as she worked to land the plan for sunday. when she woke, she prayed through the normal morning prayer, customizing it for the day. tongues were forceful. no time for play. 

Washington Dc, C, City, Urban, Washington Monument
photo credit: pixabay

when early afternoon arrived, she got a lyft ride with a paranoid covid driver who didn’t want to take her without a mask. she quickly won him over and they settled into conversation. she read him to see what truth she could give him during their short time together. listening to his story, she built him up and gave him a generous tip. 

most people didn’t understand what they were giving place to; that’s the insidious nature of witchcraft.  the mask silences your voice, takes away your breath. this is an occult ritual along with the farcical social distancing edict. what you do not know will hurt you eight ways from sunday.

it was cold and rainy, damp as she exited the lyft near the washington monument. she soon discovered she was underdressed. ugh. nothing to do about it now. she had to suck it up for a few hours. at least she had an umbrella. 

she spent the first hour and a half in strategic work, waiting for holy spirit to give her instructions, executing them and sending them across every age, realm, timeline, and dimension, past present and future, into infinity and beyond. this is not a game. she, like many, knew there was one shot at this thing. military precision and timely execution were key. 

the worship event was starting soon. she crossed the street to the national mall assessing the food trucks on hand to feed the hungry worshippers and tourists. the chosen vendor cooked her food and placed it in her hands with a smile. she walked toward the stage quickly eating the hot chicken, joining thousands of people for this epic event. 

she was to blend in the crowd, staying hidden from the witches, warlocks and satanists who were also present. her tongues would weaken any remaining evil juice they had left after the covens were put on lockdown. 

settled on the right edge of the mall, she finished her food and prepared her heart and mind for the worship. this was no time to leave anything on the table. too much was at stake. tears came quickly and easily as sean feucht welcomed the masses.

*for such a time as this* was the understatement of the century. as the music began, she leaned into holy spirit to see what to release and when. timing is everything. 

arms raised, tears streaming down her cheeks, she purposed to give jesus everything she had, even with her heart in pieces. father honored her in that place with comfort and a promise, saying, “soon, child, soon.” she pressed into him more deeply. he was faithful. 

as the worship continued, people poured onto the mall, bringing passion, devotion and prayers before the throne. in this mass appeal to heaven, lives were redeemed while demonic structures and institutions were torn down. heaven was being pulled on hard by the saints. 

a family of five moved into the open area in front of her, the husband and father, the wife and mother, two daughters and a son. there was a peace and beauty on them, a tangible unity you could touch and feel. the wife and mother was radiant. she was well loved and honored. the children were secure and confident even in their youth. 

she watched them together as they began to worship, all five of them. this was church. this was true family. and there was more. 

the rain began to fall on the crowd. already in love with the family in front of her, she did what a mother does and walked forward toward them. in a few steps she was behind them all holding her umbrella high over the little group. the beauty of the moment, the love of her gesture caught the family off guard as they realized she had moved in behind them to keep them dry. 

after a few moments, the wife and mother, andrea, turned to thank her and make introductions. suddenly, she was family. andrew, the husband and father, stood at her right, towering over all of them at six feet and six inches tall. 

he held their young son in his right arm as he leaned down to her and gently took the umbrella from her right hand with his left hand. “let me hold this for us.” she looked back at him, grateful for her inclusion into their clan. “i wasn’t supposed to be here alone.” his eyes expressed compassion and understanding without the need for spoken words. 

tears pricked at her eyes as she felt his immense love for his family. he was their protector and they knew it. in her heart, she spoke to abba, “i want that..” 

after a time, everyone prayed for the state they were from. her newly adopted family moved often so they named the states they had lived. to her surprise, andrew was from her own home state. they visited, held hands and prayed together as a family, all six of them. 

she took time to draw the little girls close to her and hug them. they hugged her back. family. worship continued, then more prayer, assignments were given to people. lou engle called upon the daughters of eve to rise up and defeat jezebel, asking everyone to lay hands on the women around them. 

she watched as andrew reached forward with his right hand and placed it on andrea’s shoulder. what he did next wrecked her. he placed his left hand on her shoulder to pray for her, too. now the floodgates were open, and tears streamed down her cheeks again. “father, i want this..” the silent prayer.

this man was unlike most she had ever met. he sang over his young son as he held him. the love and devotion he showed toward his family was unhindered and limitless. he knew who he was and he willingly took his position. 

this family were her gift that cold, rainy, once in lifetime evening, worshipping on the national mall in washington dc. they were her great reward for obedience in the face of circumstances beyond her control. 

she was cold, tired, spent. abba spoke up, told her to go home, her assignment was done. she heard the pleasure in his voice and her step was lighter for it as she walked back across the national mall to get a lyft. 

after returning to her room, she organized her things for departure the next morning.

the journey home was largely uneventful, save for road construction delays and some fog. 

her friend from the cloud of witnesses made part of the trip with her again. the assignment behind her, she could focus on matters of the heart. there were many, along with songs, prayers and tears to accompany them. 

obedience forces his hand. 

the reward is great on the road less traveled.

copyright © 2020 jane doe productions llc

this hard place

is was the best of times and the worst of times. 2020.

cognitive dissonance became a daily occurrence as hidden works of darkness were revealed.

like the realization that all those narnia stories were not just stories. they were real.

c.s. lewis, in his wisdom, was gracious enough to provide word pictures of the future he saw, to warn the world what was coming.

the books became training films depicting a dark, powerful army bent on enslavement, death and destruction.

and here she was. all around her she now saw what he saw then. the pages of the books were alive.

this is not a game.

war erupted openly in the streets, driven by a relentless enemy.

headlines were grim. fires blazed across the west coast. people died. animals died.

enemies of the people openly threatened more death.

grief, heartache, mass rioting, all told unthinkable stories in this hard place.

people lost everything as arsonists and drones set fires across the land.

deep state and shadow government figures utilized direct energy weapons, the evidence caught on film.

law enforcement on every level was caught exposing their allegiance.

it was ugly.

what the headlines didn’t say was significant.

what was god doing?

he was busy.

redemption roared across the planet, freeing humanity and creation from bondage, plowing through hard places like a battering ram.

it plowed through rock walls, accessing tunnels in hollow earth.

brave patriots destroyed enemies, going in after them, rescuing the nameless, faceless ones.

they’d either been trafficked or born into the catacombs.

some were tortured, some enslaved for sex or child production. baby mills. some were used lab experiments. every story held horrific details.

some never saw the light of day until the rescue, while others never would see never see it at all.

her own hot extraction was a miracle, one she dissected almost daily.

the assignment was completed, but the was danger high. she didn’t know what she knew. but they would know when she knew. and that was a problem.

leaving was a mixture of deep gratitude, relief and survivor’s guilt.

nine years of memories flooded the car as she drove across the country. the rearview mirror had plenty of stories to tell.

some things could never be spoken out loud while other things would never be reconciled in this life.

post traumatic stress clung to her like sticky cobwebs. triggers were frequent the first few weeks as she struggled to heal and rest.

moving forward was the only path.

re-engage the gifts. set the captives free.

listen. encourage. love. give.

just help.

jesus was always present. but in this hard place, his hands were visible, his protection and provision undeniable. he was in the rest and healing.

when she was strong enough to field it, he threw his question at her from right field. it wasn’t an easy catch. they seldom were.

he asked her if she would cast her bread on the water again. now there was a verse she hadn’t heard in a very long time. what did that mean?

she unpacked the inference, saw it, heard him. “do it one more time. trust me one more time.

she drew in a breath, blinked back tears, steadied her lips to answer decisively.

“yes, lord. i will do it. one more time.”

photo credit: pixabay

risk always carries uncertainty.

but risk avoidance is a guaranteed detour to hope deferred.

one more time.

she’d placed the large piece of sourdough in the car the night before, not wanting to forget it.

the journey took took some time. funny how the fog lingered until she reached clear lake. god is always speaking. and he is funny.

four hours later, she parked the car at the destination. this was a big day.

a well groomed trail led out to water’s edge. she sat on a log bench for a while, looking at the water, listening to it splash over the rocks.

when the time was right, she stood up, pulled the sourdough out of her pocket and walked to the water.

bread in hand, she gently tore it into eight pieces, tossing them one by one into the headwaters of the mighty mississippi.

she declared back to jesus what he’d asked of her, bringing her heart into alignment with his.

photo credit: jane doe

it was a pivotal moment, a holy moment in this hard place.

copyright © 2020 jane doe productions llc

the day i grew another pair

this morning was intense.

first, i heard another sister’s heavy heart regarding the overall apathy she was seeing.

then i recounted the courage and boldness i’ve witnessed in other believers and patriots the last few days.

it all drove me to do something, to take decisive action.

i acquired more testicular fortitude. yes. i did it.

i grew another pair of balls.

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and then i went out to do errands, praying in tongues the whole time.

upon visiting my financial institution, i was promptly stopped at the door and told masks were required. i calmly responded that i was unable to wear a mask. the woman was taken aback that anyone dare challenge the deceitful, oppressive and satanic narrative.

she said it was a good thing they weren’t busy. i went to the counter and engaged with the teller. i proceeded to do my business quietly, politely, laughing with her and thanking her when i was done.

the next stop was the discount grocer. no one stopped me or badgered me in any way. i had a great shopping experience, smiled at people and saved $39.00 on my grocery bill.

then i went to the pet food store. i love the owner, always have. but she and her staff have been taken captive by fear. you cannot enter the store without a mask. i entered, offering again i was not able to wear one.

the young woman wanted me to go outside to wait. she would shop for me. i explained that they’re in violation of osha laws by requiring me to wear a mask and not allowing me inside the store. the man working the counter snapped at me, “it’s the law to wear a mask!”

“no, it’s not. all these things are guidelines, not laws.”

“well, we would prefer it if you waited outside.”

the young woman got my things while i stood by the door giving her direction on which items i wanted to purchase. i was not rude or demanding. i spoke the truth and it was offensive. i thanked her when i left, wondering if i would be welcomed back.

i’ve shared the, “out of the shadows,” movie with the owner (not present today), as well as other tidbits of truth. i’ve invited her to coffee or dinner to have real conversations, but she won’t take me up on it.

she knows i love her, but fear has so gripped her, she is too afraid to take hold of any truth that would free her from the bondage.

when i show up now, she’s not happy to see me.

freedom has become an offense.

people are not aware of our god given liberties trampled each and every day.

to not speak truth is not love.

love speaks truth so others do not perish.

and perishing occurs at many levels. it’s how we got here in the first place.

it was both uncomfortable and liberating to speak today.

i held my head high and engaged eye to eye and face to face whenever i could.

and no one will ever be able to ask, “why didn’t you tell me?”

i did.

and i will continue to fight for you, even in your slumber, because love does that.

tyranny is at the door with its hand on the knob, attempting to throw it wide open.

i will not allow it on my watch.

what say you, patriot?

jane doe productions llc copyright © june 2020

 

red pill resources

the movie, “the matrix,” has much to teach us. the title is a reference to the movie. it involves coming out of world systems, mk ultra programming and into freedom we have never known.

we’re witnessing the liberation of millions of children from human slavery, trafficking and satanic ritual abuse, torture and cannabalism. yes, it’s that bad. and worse.

Chains, Feet, Sand, Bondage, Prison, Freedom
photo credit: pixabay

you’re free to stop here to breathe. pray. each of us is different.

your awakening is your own. don’t run from it and don’t fear it.

put yourself in father god’s hands with all these things.

there are resources and links below to get you started.

one rabbit trail will connect to many more.

godspeed. wwg1wga.

websites and youtube resources

q is a multi-year process to disclose secret illegal government activity

q anon for beginners – start here

q updates

q updates (another option)

out of shadows (excellent documentary)

patriot productions

praying medic – q podcasts

fall cabal

fall of cabal part five (hard to watch)

and we know

deep underground military bases

deep underground military base – update

bride ministries youtube videos

dan duval – one chosen to be a mother of darkness interview – part 1

dan duval – interview my training to become a mother of darkness – part 2

corey’s digs – investigative journalism

michael avicii – for a better day

operation freedom – dr. dave janda

gracie west interview

amanda grace

who to follow on twitter

bardsofwar

cjtruth

joem

president trump

george

praying medic

jane doe

tiffany fitzhenry

inthematrixxx

john solomon

mark taylor

dan bongino

dan scavino jr.

qanon76

jordan sather

candace owens

sun_q_tzu

i bless you to be led where you need to go, to learn what you need to learn, to be who you’re called be to as a son of god to complete your destiny scroll.

copyright © 2020 jane doe productions llc

no small thing

it was the weekend, time for another bath to rejuvenate and refresh. it was time for conversation with jesus on a topic she didn’t often broach.

it was painful. questions outnumbered answers. she was surprised when he addressed her thoughts before she could speak.

Bathroom, Towels, Flowers, Bathtub, Spa, Tub, Interior
photo credit: pixabay

various scenes and encounters played through her mind like old movie reels.

years had passed. prophetic words had come, gone, fallen to the ground.

when they fell, she lifted them back up in her hands, gently cleansing them and strengthening them with promise.

well meaning friends attempted to console with platitudes and scripture. they didn’t quite fit or comfort.

other not so much friends came with false prophecy to take her away from the directives on her destiny scroll. she was both surprised and amused when demons rose up as lying words were confronted with truth.

she thanked abba for the spirit of truth. truth was a close companion and trusted friend. healing and deliverance came as fast as truth rooted out the counterfeit.

old doors were firmly closed while new ones opened wide to paths of freedom. it was a new season, one she’d waited for in earnest.

hope remained. she nurtured it daily. hope kept her focused and immovable.

new possibilities were presented for her consideration.

she tucked deeper into jesus’ protective embrace, occasionally glancing at his ring on her finger.

the bathtub conversation went to the promise she held in her heart.

it was jesus’ time to speak to it.

“you have said ‘yes’ to many of my sons, trusting me to do the work of transformation in them so you could be one flesh.

none of them have said ‘yes’ to you because of the high price it will cost to walk with you.

they have been afraid, unwilling to surrender to the work or the calling.

walking with you, child, is no small thing.

you have suffered massive rejection and misunderstanding, and yet you’ve never left my side.

i will make things right for you.”

she wept.

in a few powerful words of truth, he’d blown away the shame, rejection, religion and all the other mess.

no one else had to understand.

he did.

january, 2020 copyright © jane doe productions llc

 

closing the door

memories stirred in her heart like a wooden spoon stirring ingredients together in a mixing bowl.

there was the rainbow at beacon rock. plans for the little restaurant in the gorge. dreams of a home on the coast.

these were not small things. his was intense, passionate. he wanted to rebuild his life. he didn’t want to do it alone. but there were character issues. and pride. it caused him to stumble. and it kept him from yielding to holy spirit, jesus and papa.

she’d seen it often. when pride rose up in him, darkness would cover his face. the tenderness she loved in him was hidden. joy was crushed in anger and unforgiveness.

nearly a year passed since any communication occurred between them. and it was her doing the reaching out. again. he’d gone dark after helping her with the car battery at the airport after thanksgiving. christmas came and went without a word.

she texted him on new year’s day, wished him well. he responded back, but even his texting voice felt small. he wasn’t in a good place, maybe drunk.

now, on the eve of another christmas, memories resurfaced. she smiled, recalling times, places, conversations. his daughter. his family. aunt louise and uncle charlie.

she texted him again, fondly recalling a few details that would make him smile if she wasn’t blocked on his phone. she visited several of his family’s facebook pages, wondering out loud if he’d been home to visit them yet. it was fifteen years now since he’d seen them.

she recalled words spoken over their lives. his momma would be a momma to her. his daughter would be her daughter, just like she’d given birth to her. aunt louise had taken her under her wing, always grateful for how she’d brought him back into communication with the family.

when it got too painful to hold on, she quietly unfriended his momma. she contacted the half-brother and aunt louise to tell them she needed to move on. they wished her well. the half-brother invited her to visit him and his wife if she was ever in alabama. it hadn’t taken long to develop bonds with them.

on a whim, she reached out to aunt louise on messenger, not knowing if she’d even see her message since they were no longer connected. why was all of this flooding back into the forefront?

praying, she got into her weekly epsom salt bath. sitting in silence, papa surprised her with a question. “would you take him back if he was all cleaned up?” her head snapped as she looked up to him. “first of all, you can please confirm this is you. i’m pretty vulnerable right now. secondly, yes, i might, but with conditions.”

the conditions were clear: he needed to be walking closely with papa, jesus and holy spirit. and he would need to come out of agreement with every spirit that does not serve jesus. those two qualifiers covered a lot of ground.

something deeper was working. she wasn’t clear on what it was. more prayer, more healing in the salty, lavender water. thirty minutes later, she was on the living room floor stretching. then cleansing her gateways. this was an important process. forgive, cleanse, release. release is equated with liberty.

late afternoon arrived and she began cooking for the week. chicken thighs fried on the stove, rice cooked in the dutch oven. when the phone rang, she was startled, but not as much as she was when she saw the location of the caller: new orleans. who and why?

she answered. “hello?” “hi ______!” i see you wanted to talk with me. it was aunt louise. calling her. from new orleans. what??? something deeper was working here.

she and uncle charlie were well. the big surprise and subsequent shock came shortly thereafter. he’d been home to visit. finally. he’d been there in october, just a few weeks ago. that was the big surprise. then came the shock.

he hadn’t gone alone. he went with a woman. not just a girlfriend. a fiancé. her head and heart reeled at the same time, shock waves tearing through her senses. aunt louise said something about them being forever grateful for bringing him back to them..somehow, the call ended abruptly.

devastation and betrayal set in. that was her trip to make with him, her family to meet. the new woman had taken credit for getting him there. truth spoke loudly over the top of the lie. she knew well the prophetic words she’d spoken over him two years earlier that propelled him forward to reconciliation with his family.

the truth could not be taken from her. his betrayal could not be ignored, either. he’d chosen not to yield, not to say, ‘yes,’ to papa, jesus and holy spirit. he didn’t want to do the work.  it was easier to find someone else who didn’t require so much of him, someone who would be satisfied with mediocre.

it took two weeks to process all of it again. hashing over all the prophetic words, all the promises, all the conversations..and all the character flaws. left unchecked, the character flaws became massive stumbling blocks. indeed, they’d made the foundation of their relationship unstable.

his actions consistently sowed distrust. there was nothing solid to build on. it was unsustainable, shaky ground. she knew his history. if he was challenged to be more, he threw a tantrum. and if he didn’t get his way, he moved on to someone else.

two weeks later, she made a different decision. looking up, she spoke decisively. “i don’t want him back. if he was yielded to you, he would have come back for me. he did not. so i’m closing the door. you close it, too.”

she took back the key and the dream. papa had already breathed new life and purpose into her. it happened yesterday in the salty bath laced with lavender and into the future oils. he’d taken her heart into his large, gentle hands and breathed new life into it. it was beating strong again.

she held the key in her left hand, the side her heart lived in. someone was coming. he would be worthy of her heart, the key and the dream.

Key, Heart, Daisy, Love, Wood, Valentine'S Day, Symbol
photo credit: pixabay

destiny beckoned as compromise lost its power and voice.

copyright © 2019 jane doe productions llc

 

reunion

they’d last seen each other almost six months earlier. it ended abruptly when she decided not to listen to his tasmanian devil fit on the phone after confronting him on bad behavior.

as he spewed angry words across the airwaves, her response was simple and calm. “i am not having this conversation with you tonight.” she pressed the red button on her phone, disconnecting the call. kindness with boundaries. he does not have permission to speak to her this way. no.

the result of the boundary was an immediate facebook unfriend, a block on the phone and an email requesting she never call him again. it’s what people do when the mirror is placed before them. it was also a sign he was not worthy of her heart yet. sigh.

now here they were, giving it a go again. she was excited and wary. the phone call had gone well. now she waited for the text so she knew where to meet him.

they met at a new place, not one of their old favorites

he asked her to meet him at a new place. it was new to her, not to him, but new to them together – appropriate for a new beginning. arriving first, she made her way straight to the ladies room after a brief survey of the establishment.

she took a minute to get her bearings. and breathe. deep breath in, exhale slowly. rinse and repeat.

photo1
photo credit: leisure public house

she checked her lipstick in the mirror, observing the glow on her face. there was a tenderness and light in her features that had been missing for several months. it returned the moment she heard his voice. love does that.

father, jesus and holy spirit were as excited as she was. realizing this was a new day, she asked holy spirit to order their conversation. shaking off any anxiety, she walked back into the bar area and settled at a table near the door. yikes. it was dark in this place. the smell of marijuana wafted in from the patio. it didn’t stimulate her appetite in the least. it wasn’t her favorite, never had been.

when he came in, he’d see her straight off. and he did. he walked in, saw her there, pulled back the chair to reach her and put his arms around her neck in greeting. my god, what a long time it had been since she felt his embrace. he sat down. they looked at each other. he asked her something she didn’t hear. she was so caught up in just looking at him she never heard the words.

“excuse me, i’m sorry. what did you say?” it was almost funny. well, no, it was funny. was she fifteen again? maybe. there wasn’t much that could render her speechless. she let him begin with the catching up so she could just look at him.

he was as beautiful as ever. dear lord. it wasn’t just his physical appearance. he was freer, glowing from the inside out, light in his eyes. his joy had returned. part of that joy was the call he got from her only a few hours earlier.

they glanced at menus. he was a regular here, so he made a couple of recommendations. “order whatever you like.” she ordered something, not really caring what it was. he went up to the bar, placing their order for food and drinks.

he was nervous, though, like a cat on a hot tin roof. she let him begin catching up on his life first. he was going to counseling, paying someone to listen to him vent. that was good. he also commented he’d tried dating, but it was a disaster. she felt some relief with a question mark following. why did he share this? this revelation would prove to be a clue later. she filed it away. guilty people always tell on themselves. they can’t help when it when truth is staring them in the face.

they finished their food while keeping the conversation moving. she studied him closely. he hadn’t been home to see his family yet. another item to file. she was in contact with his aunt/godmother, a lovely woman who prayed for her nephew consistently. she took her role of godmother seriously.

he knew the two of them spoke on messenger, asking what they talked about. she lightly danced around revealing their conversations. there was no need to show her hand except to encourage him to go home to visit. his parents and the rest of his family weren’t getting any younger. they wanted to see him before moving to heaven. it was that simple.

his response indicated he wasn’t ready for that trip yet. he ordered another beer. she asked how he was going to drive home. he wasn’t. an uber driver had dropped him there and uber driver would collect him and take him home. this had become a regular routine. he thought himself clever. it was a good choice for keeping his driver’s license, not so good for other obvious reasons.

it was late now and she had to work the next day, friday. he walked her down the street to her car. he hugged her goodbye, embracing her for a very long time, longer than he ever had before.

she got in her car and watched him walk back to the bar with unease and a heavy heart.

it still wasn’t time.

copyright 2017 © jane doe productions

 

 

 

her name is lucy

she was twenty years old when it happened, days shy of her 21st birthday. young, tender, naive trying to find her way in life after years of abuse. she was pretty, beautiful even.

modeling might have been her career if not for her head crashing through the windshield of an old ford fairlane. the event had many layers, a redemption for every tragedy. maybe the man who hit them in the rainstorm was delivered from alcoholism. she prayed and hoped.

the scars were healed. indeed, no one even saw them unless she pointed them out in telling the story. her fractured internal condition was well hidden from most people, too. when her mother told her to, “just get over it,” her permission slip to process the pain and loss was taken away.

it was only after she reading, “broken to whole,” that she saw what had occurred within her that fateful night and why it happened. and that jesus was good with it. really good with it. there was never any condemnation nor would there ever be.

having suffered post traumatic stress disorder for decades, the most recent trigger broke the camel’s back. it was the wreck on highway 30, the one she drove past on the last leg of the drive home from seattle. it was the one with the fatality. someone died. it was her years ago, except she’d lived to tell.

if the timing had been different by a few minutes, hers might have been the car hit by the driver veering over the center line. but she was not. this time she was a passerby, speaking life to the victims.

the car left standing on all four wheels was the trigger, opening the wound wide open. it was the hole in the windshield where the driver’s head crashed through. the internal shaking began almost immediately. the other part of her tried to shut it all down, to stuff it back in the box. this time, however, it would not be contained.

he came to pick her up for dinner right after she arrived home. did he see the train wreck inside her? no, thank god, he did not. she was skilled and adept at hiding it from nearly everyone but herself and jesus. he knew. she knew.

today she had new information, new revelation. she had explanations and tools to help her heal. she could talk to that broken, traumatized fragment of her soul. she could help it and be whole again.

the conversation between them began awkwardly, her spirit engaging with a soul fragment stuck at the age of twenty. an epsom salt bath followed to begin the release. it was a process, not something to be done in five minutes.

there were movies to watch to shake the trauma loose and another movie to watch to find out the fragment’s name, the name of the girl who went away 35 years ago. who was she? what was her personality? and how could she bring her back home safely?

the movies were cathartic, internal earthquakes with no richter scale to measure their intensity. more shook free, rising to the surface. the fragment’s name was, ‘lucy.’ now she could call the broken girl by name. she lay curled up in the fetal position in her bed, sobbing deep guttural sobs on and off for hours.

a friend voxed her to ask her a question about someone they were both praying for. she sobbed back, “i think so and so is fine, but i am in this…” and she went on to explain.

he listened, voxed her back. through heaving, broken sobs, she explained until he had enough context to see how to pray. he gave her hope she would come through. jesus had him tell her she was close to completing this journey she never knew she was on or wanted to take.

in all of it, she saw glimpses of the mystery girl ‘lucy‘ who went away. she’d catch lucy peering out from behind her to see if it was safe to come out. sometimes she could turn around to see lucy behind her. it was an odd thing to see part of herself living in hiding for so long.

it was time to come home. when the sobbing was over, she took another epsom salt bath. she spoke to lucy and the other fragmented parts of her, introducing them to jesus for redemption and healing. soon, they’d all be integrated back into her soul. wholeness was coming.

the following day, she rose early and drove to the coast. jesus showed her the scene days earlier. as she drove, fear and panic rose up in lucy. she called her friend. “how do you feel?” the friend asked. “i feel terrified,” came the response. it was real. driving was not easy. pressing through in her vulnerable state was the overcoming part.

the grounding came as her feet pressed into the cool sand. jesus was with her.

Person, Human, Female, Beach, Woman, Young
photo credit: pixabay

broken to whole was tangible and achievable. how did she know?

lucy came home.

copyright © 2019 jane doe productions llc