the real conversation

she was driving home from work. it was late.

a stop at subway took care of the hunger. then she was back on the road.

he came across her mind. they’d reconnected several weeks earlier.

peace and reconciliation were important in this season. she’d obeyed spirit’s prompts.

and she did this night, too. she called him. he didn’t answer. she didn’t leave a message.

he called her back a few minutes later.

 

conversation
photo credit: pixabay

 

it was good to hear his voice. her heart beat fast. memories flooded back.

after they circled the wagons and went through the formalities, she got down to business.

“do you miss me?” he tried to dodge the question. “what’s this all about?”

his lackadaisical response opened up the gate and she just went off on him.

“why the hell didn’t you ever come after me? i needed you to come after me, to make it known how valuable and precious I was to you.” she was pissed off.

she used words with him she’d never used before. she called him an a**hole.

he was quiet. he let her yell until she had to take a breath.

he said he’d had his own demons to fight.

yes, he missed her.

the artwork of the two of them together in a storm still hung on the bedroom wall. he looked at it every night.

yes, he missed her.

now, she went where she’d never gone before.

she called out the spirits that kept him bound: poverty, infirmity and self-pity, the ugly three-some with invisible prison bars around him.

she went on sobbing and yelling at him. loudly.

“i have never invested so much of my life in anyone before. it wasn’t supposed to go like this! i have never wanted anything more for you than to be free so you could be all father called you to be.”

“you are not your past. you are not the things that were done to you. they have all been paid for one time by jesus.”

the anger and passion had taken over. this was the most real and authentic conversation they’d ever had.

she gave him things to think about, showing him how he could choose to simply think differently – and it would all change for him.

she called out his pride.

she called out the lying spirits that fed him crap all day long. she told him what steps he could take to shift things.

she cried more, yelled at him more. and he took it.

he wouldn’t have heard her a couple of years ago. he heard her now.

he got brave. “would you like to go get coffee sometime?”

she offered him a maybe.

the dog was about to pee on the carpet. he had to go.

she was still angry. “what?!? you’re going to end it like this?”

he chuckled with warmth in his voice and made a joke about the dog. she knew about the dog. their dog. it was okay.

they said goodnight and their conversation ended.

she went in the house. the eye faucets did not turn off easily. pent up emotions were now loosed all over the map.

that was a very necessary conversation to have. she loved him deeply, would always love him deeply. fiercely even.

you never scream at someone you don’t care about.

she called a close friend and they talked. the friend suggested it might be a good time to go to the coast to talk with father again. there was sorting to be done here. she agreed.

the next morning was better. she’d begun the conversation with father as she lay in bed the night before. now it continued.

his voice was so soft, she almost missed it. “i’m causing it all to work for good.” in the moment, she didn’t see how, but she took hold of what he said. he never lied so he would do something with this. and it would be good.

during the morning commute, tears sprung to her eyes again and would not stop. she asked the question within, ‘why? why wouldn’t he fight for himself?’

she asked holy spirit to handle her emotions and she settled down into worship and prayer.

‘remember love, remember mercy, christ before me, christ behind me. your loving kindness has never failed me, christ before me, christ behind me.’ it felt good to sing it. it was true. he was here, right in the thick of it with her.

there would be more conversations with father until she had resolution.

it was time to fight for the men. all of the men.

(copyright 2017 jane doe)

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