in the beginning

papa had plans. he had purposes. he always does.

often, there are layers and layers to his plans and purposes, but they are always good.

she road the train across the country with less than two hundred lira.

her ticket was only one-way. this would be an extended visit.

as her train pulled into the station, she hoped to see the one person she knew in the unfamiliar town. that person never appeared. it was okay.

papa had her covered. help was ready and waiting for her.

employees at the train station helped her find a hostel to stay in the first night. they even drove her there.

on her first night, papa asked her if she would move there. she took a long breath and suggested they talk about it.

over a meal, papa told her why she was equipped to do it. she listened to him, to see what he saw, to hear what he knew she could do.

it was a bold, risky move, one that he had prepared her for over several years time.

she said yes.

after several days of shuffling around, she landed with a family that needed her help.

she watched the children. she cleaned the house. she fed and cared for the animals.

her quarters were a stone hut with walls twelve inches thick. it had a wood stove and an old mattress. it was cozy, even comfortable.

photo credit: jane doe

she lit the stove on cold nights. she worshipped. she prayed. she felt delight.

some nights, she would go to the river and sing over the city.

papa was there, too. he was always there.

she was aware of battles all around her.

she also knew she was surrounded by angels.

at long last, she lived in her own narnia.

it was time.

and it was good.

(copyright 2016 jane doe)

grief, healing and rest

life changed after the big move.

photo credit: jane doe












she now lived with a younger married couple.

she recalled meeting them, visiting for the first time. she heard holy spirit say, ‘family,’ softly to her. it was how she knew she belonged with them. it was confirmation.

the woman became a sister and a daughter. the man became a son, a brother, a protector. she had missed growing up with her siblings. these relationships provided restoration and fulfillment of those longings and desires.

papa. he was good to her again. over and over. always. forever.

she had long talks with papa about him after the big move. in the first conversation, he asked her to wait for him one year. he gave her choices and options. they reasoned together. she agreed to wait one year.

two months later, papa spoke again on the same topic.

she was at her desk when she heard his voice.

“i am no longer asking you to wait for him.

you have waited long enough.

i want you to move forward. 

i will restore.”

his words stunned her as she sat up straight.

she took a breath and a minute to process his words.

his voice was strong, tender, purposeful, fatherly.

his direction came as a surprise. but papa knew the end from the beginning.

the cord had been cut.

the processing began soon afterward. grief, anger, shock, betrayal, sorrow.

sometimes the deep longing to hold his hand again would unravel her.

she blessed him. she prayed for him when he came to mind.

papa had movies for her to watch. they helped her process emotions, to see beyond, to see glimpses of what he would do for her.

he encouraged her, sometimes saying, “great is your reward, child.”

she believed him. she had been faithful and obedient.

she began to sleep again. she learned to breathe again.

she soaked in worship music and healing frequencies at night as she slept.

sweet praise and rest brought healing.

jesus beckoned her to the beach. it was time to meet again. she went.

the touch of the sand under her feet brought more healing and balance to her body.

she worshipped as she walked, singing into the wind at the top of her lungs.

then he was there. suddenly. he’s like that. suddenly. it took her breath away.

the lion spoke.

“it was harder for you to let go because you didn’t really trust that i loved him, that i had him. but i want you to know this: i love my son more than you love your husband.

you can trust this. you can open your hands all the way and release him to me.”

she looked up in the sky. waves washed over her feet. the sand was cool.

She opened her hands and spoke the words out loud. she let him go.

then she drew an imaginary line in front of her.

with great joy and intentionality, she stepped over it.

there would be no more sorrow over what was, over what might have been.

her bright future beckoned.

she answered.

‘yes, lord.’

(copyright 2016 jane doe)


progression and obedience

photo credit: jane doe

another year passed. it was time to move again.

she did not ask about reuniting this time.

she moved in with a lovely, gentle woman in a narnia house in a new neighborhood.

many things remained the same. some things grew worse.

he was not truthful in much. he told her what he thought she wanted to hear.

she knew that he knew that she knew. he lied anyway.

she knew he didn’t go see the former lady friend to simply visit.

the lady at the park was likely a new source of sympathy. or money.

they went to a meeting where another man of god told of being raised from the dead.

the man looked into his eyes for a long time.

“it’s not too late for you,” he said. he did not respond.

she went to the local pool one weekend.

she finished a lap and rested on the edge of the pool.

she was so tired. no one could see she was crying in the water.

papa god began to speak.

“it is true that you would be further along in your relationship if he had made better choices. you have done all that i have asked you to do and more.

i need you to keep moving forward. your destiny depends on it.”

she sighed. it was true. all of it. she agreed.

she did not know what that looked like. she just said, ‘yes.’

things grew progressively worse with him. different than before. tenuous and tense.

soon, there was another conversation with papa god another weekend afternoon.

he was more serious this time. there was deep concern in his voice. concern for her.

“he can no longer have access to you until he is submitted to me. his negativity is killing you.”

he was right. her whole body was inflamed. her strength was depleted.

it would take several months to walk this out. but she did.

when the next move came, it was different than the others.

this move was thirty miles away.

he had no license, no car. there was no regular bus service.

he had no access.

this move brought her rest. she began to sleep at night. she began to heal.

she began to move forward into her destiny as papa god had promised.

there was progression through obedience.

it was a good move.

(copyright 2016 jane doe)

stinky garbage

she settled into the new place. again.

the neighborhood was sketchy.

drug dealers lived down the street.

she adapted. she was skilled in adapting.

conviction pricked at his soul for choices he’d made, things he blamed her for.

self-focus produces stinky garbage.


photo credit: n. leblanc

when he visited, he came wanting. he expected things.

food. money. sex.

wrong expectations are heavy yokes.

disappointment in wrong expectations is destructive.

he did not visit just to see her. he didn’t know how, and he had little to give.

he flipped words around to convince himself he was doing right.

somehow the blame frequently landed in her lap.

he told her she was selfish.

he spoke destructive words often.

sharp word knives pierced her heart.

she hardly remembered a time when he spoke kind words to her.

she nearly forgot who she was, how wonderful she was and to whom she belonged.

papa god reminded her.

she was smart. beautiful. creative. amazing. kind. generous. loving. gracious.

one friend referred to her as the graceful, glorious one. she liked that a lot.

his pain was so deep, his soul so broken, only hurtful words came out.

she tried to take a break from him. he became more anxious and fearful.

she saw in part what the little boy inside had experienced, how the man became so tormented years later.

she loved him well. he knew this.

sometimes he asked her why she put up with his shit.

she told him she saw more in him.

she told him she loved him. she showed him. often. even in the pain and destruction.

sometimes he would say he was no good for her.

she told him he could change that. jesus could heal him, make him whole.

he had passion. he was smart. he was funny.

she told him he was brilliant.

and on it went.

until it could not go on anymore.

(copyright 2016 jane doe)

real stability

photo credit: n. leblanc


while he was in jail, she was ordered to move away from him.

she moved in with a couple who needed extra income.

the wife was absent from the interview.

the husband said it would be fine. he was not truthful.

it was not fine.

the wife despised her. would not speak to her. did not want her in the kitchen. did not want her in the house at all. ugh.

she stayed in her room. her secret place. it was safe. it was peaceful.

there were issues.

the husband was afraid of the wife. the wife was angry, jealous. it was a mess. she prayed for them.

when they thought their money issues were resolved, they asked her to move out.

she began to look for a new place.

then they asked her to stay. she said no.

they reduced the rent. she stayed.

they asked her to leave again. she prepared to move.

roller coaster.

they asked her to stay again. they reduced the rent more.

she stayed again, buying time.

she knew she had to move.

she tried talking to him about moving back in together. he responded in defensive anger to avoid the topic. he would not commit. there it was.

he agreed to help her move.

on move day, he was unpleasant, surly, unhelpful, complaining. ugh.

these were common denominators whenever she asked anything of him.

he felt guilty and he did not like it.

it took more and more energy to be around him.

at the end of move day, he went off on her. loudly. always loudly.

it didn’t matter what it was. it just made her so tired.

she sobbed in exhaustion and frustration.

papa god said, “he is not worthy of you yet.”

she nodded her head in agreement.

he was right.

she knew he was her real stability.

it was enough.

(copyright 2016 jane doe)


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