life changed after the big move.
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.
(copyright 2016 jane doe)