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.

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.

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.

my name is john

it was friday, november 8, 2019. the alarm went off at 6 am stirring both women to get up and get moving. the conference schedule had two full days remaining, but their food supplies needed replenishing. the quick fix was another run to the local trader joe’s before driving to the conference location.

they made coffee in the room, turned on the tv and began chatting as they got ready for the day. the florida woman took a quick shower while the oregon woman read and posted some prophetic words on facebook.

one of those words reached in and grabbed her spirit as she read it the first time. when her friend was within earshot again, she read it out loud:

“be prepared to be sprung into action. days are quickly approaching when you will be called upon without a moment’s notice. be ready and in a state of preparedness to tackle whatever situation you encounter. it will be somewhat like being an emergency room physician. i am about to vault you into situations where you will have to respond quickly and be fast on your feet without second-guessing yourself. you are a spiritual first responder.”

philippians 4:13 (ampc) “i have strength for all things in christ who empowers me [i am ready for anything and equal to anything through him who infuses inner strength into me; i am self-sufficient in christ’s sufficiency].” kevin robinson

fireman-4615934_960_720 — photo credit: pixabay

it was a rather sobering word. pay attention to your surroundings and respond as needed. nothing is coincidence.

the women got their gear in order for the day and headed to trader joe’s. armed with salads, granola bars and chocolate, they checked out and got in the car to drive to the conference.

the oregon woman, chauffeur for the week, noted her quickly declining patience as activity behind her prevented them from backing out and leaving. it was an odd configuration for a parking lot, not easy to navigate to the street. as they finally pulled up to the street to turn left, they saw her.

she was on the sidewalk to the left of the car, standing stock-still, almost catatonic. her eyes were fixed in a vacant stare. her left arm was draped across the top of her abdomen while her right arm covered the lower part. she was protecting herself.

her hair was sort of dishwater blond hair reaching past her shoulders. she looked well kept, not homeless. her coat was purple, her leggings black. she just stood there about 15 feet away from the car.

“my god, what’s wrong with her??” both women were shocked as they observed her. something was seriously wrong. the oregon woman looked at the florida woman in the car.

“she’s in shock. something happened to her. from the way she’s holding herself, she might have been raped or had an abortion. the oregon woman rolled down the driver’s window and called out to her.

“honey, are you okay? do you need anything?” the young woman continued to stare off into the distance. both women began calling out to her with urgency. “are you okay? are you hungry? do you need money? how can we help you?”

after what felt like an eternity, the young woman’s head turned toward them to engage. she took a few steps toward the car. her brokenness was heart breaking.

by this time, each woman had pulled cash out of their wallets to give her. now, she was closer to the car. the oregon woman extended the cash out the window to her. “honey, what’s your name?”

her answer stunned them, confirming her need for help. her lips trembled as she answered, “my name is john.” the women looked at each other. tears came to their eyes as they quickly realized they weren’t at all equipped to help her. and whoever john was, well, that opened up more questions than answers.

they couldn’t take her anywhere and they couldn’t stay parked at the exit of the parking lot. they left her there, standing still on the sidewalk, motionless, holding two twenties in her left hand, broken.

the florida woman cried as they drove away. they felt helpless but knew couldn’t care for her further. the oregon woman dialed 911. they could get a patrol car to do a wellness check on her.

“911 operator, can I help you?”

“yes, please, my name is ___________. we were just pulling out of trader’s joe’s at the intersection of ___________.

there’s a young woman standing on the sidewalk, almost catatonic. she needs a wellness check. something is very wrong. we gave her some money, but she needs looking after.”

the operator asked for a few more details and the call ended. as they drove to their destination, jesus spoke up, “you did exactly what I wanted you to do.”

when they arrived at the conference, the oregon woman ran to one of the spiritual mothers who also happened to be a social worker. after telling the story, the older woman confirmed what jesus had said.

“you were not equipped to help her. i would’ve done the very same thing. it was the right thing to do.”

the prophetic word they received earlier did equip the women for the assignment they were given. they cared, they loved, they provided, they prayed. the young woman would be okay.

it was another good day in the kingdom.

coffee and honor

once upon a time, two women made plans to room together for a conference in washington state. complete strangers only weeks earlier, they’d connected on facebook through a group they both belonged to.

their lodging was an extended stay hotel in everett, washington. one woman flew in from florida and the other drove from oregon. as the woman from oregon parked her car, she wondered if her roommate had arrived.

she pulled her luggage into the hotel lobby to find a couple people checking in at the front desk. as she waited, another woman burst though the lobby doors addressing the two people at the desk. “there’s no coffee pot in our room! why isn’t there a coffee pot in our room?” she was a petite, blond fireball with a very legitimate question.

the oregon woman spoke up behind her. “what?? there’s no coffee pot in the room? every hotel room has a coffee pot in it. that’s crazy!”

the blond woman turned around to face her, nodding in agreement, “right??” and then it clicked. they were each other’s roommate for the week. laughing, they walked through the double doors into the interior of the hotel to their room.

as they unpacked, their conversation erupted into lively chatter planning for the week long conference. breaks were short, so they needed food for breakfast and lunch. and they needed coffee in the morning. no coffee pot was a serious thing requiring immediate resolution.

since the hotel was an extended stay facility, their room was larger than normal and pretty well equipped. the room had a sink, dishwasher, a full size refrigerator, but no plates or cups. there were two saucepans and a small frying pan. utensils were sparse. but no coffee pot, filters or coffee. it defied reason and practicality. both women were old enough to know what a stocked kitchen should look like; this wasn’t it.

shaking their heads, the pair decided to go to dinner and visit the local trader joe’s for provisions. on their way out, the man behind the front desk reported he still had no coffee pot for them. but he would work on it. the women looked at each other with the same expression of disbelief.

after a good meal of pasta and gathering foodstuffs for the week, they drove back toward the hotel. the oregon woman with the car looked to her new friend. “well, I saw a little coffee hut very near the hotel. i’ll get up in the morning and get us coffee.”

morning came quickly. while the florida woman jumped in the shower, the oregon woman went to fetch coffee in the dark and fog. she drove past the driveway leading down to the little coffee shack and did a quick u-turn to complete the mission.

the neighborhood around the hotel wasn’t great. huge power lines towered over the land adjacent to the hotel. it felt dark. but she didn’t put it all together until she drove up to the order window. then it all clicked together like legos.

what she saw was unexpected and shocking. it took her breath away. to her left in the little shack was a beautiful young woman. almost naked. close enough to naked to leave nothing to the imagination.

it was a bikini barista coffee shack, one of a small chain of coffee shops that draws mostly broken men as clientele. they show up for a few minutes to stare at broken beautiful, almost naked women as they wait for their morning coffee.

quickly composing herself, she locked her eyes on the young woman’s face. this was a holy spirit setup. not a mistake. time to engage and be present. she ordered two coffees and the conversation flowed.

the barista asked if she was local or visiting. she explained she was visiting for a conference on biblical healing with essential oils, etc. the young woman responded with enthusiasm. “oh, i totally believe in the power of prayer. a man from my dad’s church had a heart attack. everyone prayed for him and he had no damage to his heart when he went home.”

observation made, door open. “you’re a beautiful young woman, kind and smart. i’m pretty sure daddy god has more for you to do than work here. it’s not his best for you to be seen like this.” she kept the tone of her voice gentle, calm and motherly.

girl-865304_960_720 — photo credit: pixabay

the young woman, smiled. “i know what you’re saying, but the owner of the company really believes in women’s rights. she thinks we should be very comfortable in our own skin.”

now momma bear rose up growling inside her. jesus. all these women had wounds that made them believe lies from the liar.

“i get that, being comfortable in your own skin and all, but not in front of men that are not your husband. that is not honoring you! you are not called to this. father god does not want you to share your beautiful body with any man except the one he’s chosen as your husband.”

the young barista was quiet for a moment as she handed the two coffees through the driver’s window. the conversation ended as they wished each other well and the oregon woman drove up the potholed road back to the hotel sloshing coffee all over. this was not at all what she’d expected. not even close. but god.

when she got back in their room, she told the story to the florida woman. they laughed, both knowing it was a god setup. “i was absolutely mortified. i did my best not to look at her body, but man..!”

it was certainly a way for the enemy to further exploit god’s daughters by luring god’s sons into further into pornography, strip clubs and worse. when they’d unpacked the event in great detail, holy spirit spoke to the oregon woman. “i want you to go back there for coffee every morning this week.”

there it was. the assignment. her flesh had little time to rebel as she quickly responded, “yes, i’ll go,” out loud to make it real.

tuesday morning came. no fog today. good. it made seeing the driveway for the coffee shack easier.

the same young woman was working again, wearing less on her body for cover than the day before. was that even possible?? silent anger rose up in her against the exploitation as she ordered two black coffees and sugar packets for her friend.

they had small talk, but not as much as the previous day. the truth had been spoken and it hung there in the space between them, waiting for action to be taken. she collected the coffees, paid for them and smiled at the young woman.

there was no time for more as a man in a semi tractor pulled in behind her for coffee. she felt the intent of the man’s heart, feeling righteous anger build in waves.

marching the coffee back to their room, she angrily told florida woman what transpired. something had to be done. in a moment, she saw herself above all those coffee shacks and the words came pouring out.

“father god, we agree for all of these daughters to receive healing for every soul wound, every place where they have been used and abused to be made whole. we agree for each them to be released into their destiny, into the plans and purposes you have for them.

we agree that they are hidden in you, no longer seen by men or women who do not have your permission to see them in their vulnerability. we release the spirit of righteousness into this whole coffee chain and command a realignment of it into your plans and purposes for it. we break deception off of all concerned and ask the spirit of truth to lead them into all truth, and we give you thanks.”

the words were hardly out of her mouth as holy spirit spoke up again. “you don’t have to go back there again.” she saw it. what was needed was done.

feeling honored by what father had given them to do, the two women finished preparing for their day. to their surprise, the man at the front desk even had a coffee pot for them.

they thanked him, smiling as they walked to the car.

it was a great day in the kingdom.

and everything changed

she drew in a breath as the speaker echoed what holy spirit showed her years earlier. it was still as unnerving to her human ears: “the plan for our destruction was released the moment we were conceived.”

immediately, her thoughts returned to the day with the life altering vision. it happened on a sunday morning, transporting her back ages to a place she’d not been before. she recounted the thoughts and events of the morning with uncanny accuracy.

the summer sun streamed through her bedroom windows as she prepared to make the thirty mile drive to church. going to this particular place in the city was an assignment to re-dig wells they didn’t know were stopped up. she mused over what had transpired there in the months she’d been attending.

a religious spirit dominated most of the services held in the auditorium of the catholic school. she was sent to pray in tongues, worship and shift the atmosphere. the leaders didn’t like her or her gifts much.

most sundays, friendly fire came at her from the pulpit. jesus always warned her in advance so she knew to dodge those fiery darts. it stung when the pastors bashed and mocked the gifts given by the father of lights, but they’d been taught the gifts were over, invalid and irrelevant.

they reacted badly when someone came around actually using them for all to see and hear. her living testimony flew in the face of bad doctrine, fear and religious spirits.

all things considered, it was no surprise they refused to interview her in their search for a female pastor. she knew more than they did, and clearly, that would never work in their structure; she would not be controlled. she had something else, too – a real relationship with the king of the universe spilling out all over in living color.

over time, their views would change. transformation would occur from the inside out, instead of the reverse, common in so many denominations.

she sighed as she recalled the end of their hiring process. instead of hiring a woman, they filled the open position with a young man, one like them. when the new pastor started, she secretly encouraged him to break out of their religious boundaries.

shaking off those thoughts, the vision opened up to her.

holy spirit took her up into the heavens to a place where secret conversations and plans were made, like a strategy room. what she saw took place ions earlier. clearly, an ancient mystery was being revealed to her.

she saw father god sitting in his big armchair with several destiny scrolls in his lap. one was opened up, unfurled and held between his large, capable hands. on the right side of the chair, hovering up near his right ear, was a spirit. preparations were underway for it to become a human in the earth.

destiny scrolls were of great significance. detailed planning went into the creation and execution of each one. they not only impacted the earth, but the heavens and the entire universe.

the relationship between father and this spirit was tender and intimate, their discussion was playful until the conversation grew somber. she heard father explaining what was being asked of this spirit. the spirit grew quiet, processing the information it heard.

the request was daunting, seemingly impossible. the implications were unpleasant, even deadly, depending on physical location within the activities of the scroll. if the spirit consented to this plan, it would do so out of love, obedience and deep trust.

in it all, the creator knew his own intent and how every piece would fit together. he saw the restoration of all things culminating at the end of the scroll. he waited a moment for the spirit to catch the same vision.

old-2228518_960_720 — photo credit: pixabay

in a flash, the spirit saw it, shouting, ‘yes!’ loudly without reservation. it was a scene unlike any other.

holy spirit turned back to her. shaken at what she’d witnessed, she was unprepared for the question put before her.

“what if,” holy spirit paused, “what if, one of these spirits agreed to come into such gross outer darkness with only the promise that someone would reach down to pull them out?”

the truth of this revelation was immediate. there could be no more wrong judgment against humanity. no one knew what another had signed up for in the strategy room outside of time.

she considered again how satan releases the plan of destruction against each human at the moment of conception. maybe those condemned the most have the greatest assignments sent against them.

some escape, sharing harrowing stories as victims or perpetrators, but all victims, nonetheless. one woman was chosen to be a mother of darkness in satan’s empire as a little girl.

her family has been held captive for generations, as are so many others. many of them are simply born into it and have never known freedom.

the woman shared valuable intelligence from every aspect of satan’s operations, describing in detail the five divisions of his organization: satanists, freemasons, the catholic church, the mormon church and the cabal.

armed with this knowledge, she saw how individuals and entities were aligned under each demonic division – and what was required to shift them to kingdom influence and rule. the kingdoms of this world would become the kingdoms of our god as life was spoken into them.

when the vision was over, the directive was clear: reach down to pull another out of gross outer darkness.

two years passed since the original vision. holy spirit continued to unpack the vision layer after layer until her heart was laid bare.

after receiving permission to scribe it, it came easily, except the ending.

she had no words to communicate the urgency of the message. the tree of life stood before her, waiting for those who would eat her sweet fruit.

holy spirit would do it, showing each person when they needed rescue by a strong arm pulling them out of gross outer darkness.

holy spirit would show each human the value of their own salvation.

and everything would change.

nonsense and discipline

to whom it may concern:

i believe in honor.

when you tell me we can be friends but you’re not interested in a relationship with any woman, i will guard my heart.

when you tell me you don’t need me to call or text you, i will honor your request.

when you tell me you don’t need help, i will not offer my assistance.

be mindful of the words you speak.

intent carries inertia. it makes what you say become reality.

passive aggressive behavior is dangerous all around.

be mindful you’re not being a bully when you can choose to be kind and loving.

brave introspection reveals less than desirable behaviors to us. it offers a rear view mirror of our lives, sometimes reflecting people who love you running the other direction because they were not valued.

Road, Exit, Drive, Windshield, Trip, Tour, More, Driver — photo credit: pixabay

father only puts up with our nonsense for so long. then he comes with loving discipline because we cannot be children forever. we must grow up.

he removes the people we bully, scapegoat and gas light because he loves them. he will hide and protect them.

he also removes them because he loves us.

after he’s done a hot extraction to rescue our victims of selfishness and narcissism, there’s only the two of us left. then what?

then it’s time to learn who we really are. it’s time to stop living that false identity. it’s time to stop acting out in toddler-esque behavior. it’s time to grow up in jesus.

now, i’m going to get personal.

i won’t say you don’t deserve me because at the core of your being, you absolutely do. you deserve the best. that is father’s plan for you.

it’s also his plan for me. i deserve his best because i’m his daughter. i deserve better than being bullied and mistreated. i deserve to be honored, loved and cherished as my father‘s daughter.

it doesn’t mean there’s not room for mercy, forgiveness and grace. it means i am loving and honoring myself properly. it means i will honor my boundaries to stay healthy.

i’m not willing to eat bread crumbs from the floor when i can feast abundantly at his table. the same holds true for you.

the door to your heart is only open to me when you open it to Jesus. the first love gate belongs to Him. i am second.

until you say, ‘yes’ to holy spirit and yield to the transforming work of the cross in your own life, you won’t have room for me in your heart. it really is that simple.

as you are healed and made whole, you take responsibility for your words and your behavior.

you take responsibility for saying yes to holy spirit’s fire every day so fruit can develop in your life.

me?

i am content. i am my father‘s daughter. no matter what you choose, i will move forward and complete my destiny. nothing will change that.

none of us can fix our lives. not one. nope. nada. zip.

jesus showed up so we would stop the do-it-yourself, burn-the-house-to-the-ground home-improvement projects.

your life was never meant to be torment.

it was meant to be beautiful, full of love, grace and good fruits. you get to choose.

look around you. i know you don’t like what you see and i know you don’t like how you behave. you shouldn’t. it’s not who you really are. i see you. i know.

surrender. surrender it all. surrender your pride. surrender your self-rule.

invite his hammer of grace to come down and utterly smash every false idol you’ve erected.

be who you are as a son of god and kick every false identity to the curb.

give to jesus the reward of his suffering – you.

learn who he is. learn who you are. break bread with him.

cultivate a relationship with the one who made you.

today’s a good day to be born from above.

we have things to do, things we agreed to written on parchment scrolls stored in heaven.

i still believe in you.

now you must do the same.

possibilities, potential and promise

it was 5 am saturday morning. she was wide awake. sleeping in wasn’t happening today. another roller coaster week in her never a dull moment life was over. it was time to rest and reflect, laugh again.

it was a melting pot of warfare, sleepless nights, tears, passionate conversations with bad endings. demons swearing at her. nice. what was that about being blessed when you’re persecuted and people talk ugly to you? she shook her head and laughed. the devil only has a hissy fit when you’re doing something right. well then.

trust the process

“trust the process,” her friend told her. when she heard it, she knew it came right from papa god’s heart. trust the process. indeed. she’d asked papa for his best for her.

she’d seen him through his papa’s eyes for some time now. she saw him in truth, in perfection, as a beloved son even when he wasn’t fully awake to this reality.

he’d had brilliant prophetic words spoken over him, words of promise, hope and a future. he saw vignettes of unlimited possibilities and potential, the ways papa god wanted to bless him as his son. he saw how his gifts and talents could be brought to life.

sprout-933892_960_720 — *photo credit: pixaby*

most importantly, he was presented with the beautiful gift of a wife, a full partner he could walk with in this life. would he step into his destiny? would he come back for her?

this was a major life decision. in returning to her, he’d be turning his face fully back to papa god. it meant walking arm in arm with him in unity. it meant stepping into sonship.

it meant radical change in direction, a homecoming worth celebrating loudly. the cloud of witnesses perched on the edge of their seats wondering how this would play out. would he choose well? would he be bold and courageous? yes, the stakes were high but the reward was great.

she’d prayed intently over him and his family for cleansing and restoration in their blood lines. for all the enemy stole to be returned to them 7-fold.

weeks turned to months, months grew to years. she wept over him, took communion over him, visioning life with him. she determined to cooperate fully with papa god, willing him to have every opportunity to make the best choice for his future and future generations.

she prayed for wisdom and revelation that the eyes of his understanding would be open. she prayed for his heart to be one with father god’s heart again. she called to his spirit to rise up and lead his soul, declaring his spirit would only be led by holy spirit.

faithful friends stood with her and prayed. in all of it she kept telling papa god she wanted his best.

she gave him wide margins to work things out on his own. she spoke when holy spirit prompted her – and sometimes when silence was the better option. grace covered her.

unconditional love often gets an unexpected response

wisdom dictated several things she would not compromise. those things had earned her unfriending, blocking and ‘goodbye.’ unconditional love often gets an unexpected response.

jesus chimed in on her thoughts, showing her some of his daily experience. he’s telling us, “i love you, i’m here for you, not leaving you. ever.” his compassion rises, watching us trying to stitch up our gaping wounds. we lay there bleeding, still holding up the hand, saying, “i’m good here. get the hell away from me.”

see how we are

see how we are. still, he doesn’t leave. he waits until we give in, showing him our wounds, allowing him to love and heal us. she remembered her conversation with jesus, drowning in her own lake of mess. “i am so freaking broken. what do you want with me??”

she could see it wasn’t him rejecting her. it was a combination of pain, fear and angst speaking, a realization that the old ways of dodging brokenness weren’t working.

she didn’t leave, either. she loved him hard, praying for him when she would have rather kicked his backside. love never fails, never gives up. it gets up in the morning to love another day, to love the hell away.

now, she waited, trusting the process, waiting on the promise.

the best man is coming for her.

those high school years

sometimes it helped her to write about things. sometimes it did not. she still wasn’t sure where this would land on the processing meter. the rock band ‘til tuesday‘ played on her itunes. those old familiar songs coaxed her angry seventeen year-old girl back out of hiding to confront this goliath. she was still angry, and she came out swinging. it was safe to be angry now, safe to confront the injustices, the lies and the shame.

she was quite cognizant of the fact that justice would not come from him. it would only come from papa god, the only one who could fix the wrongs, make them right, restore what had been stolen. innocence. purity. trust.

it was all true. he made bad choices in abusing his position of authority. he did bad things to her. he broke her heart, stole her self-worth. it was also truth his actions did not define him anymore than they defined her – that was harder to reconcile. it was ugly all around. the movie reel of those years was painful to watch as it played through her head, even after so much time.

she had no desire to out him, no desire to destroy his life or family. if it came out, it would be because he himself told the story. it would not be her doing. she found a recent photo of him on the internet. he was all gray now. so would she be if it weren’t for hair color.

back in the day, no one said anything when they saw it happening. and it happened a lot. thousands upon thousands of young girls at high schools around the country were manipulated, seduced and sexually assaulted by male teachers. the ones there to protect became the predators. it happened to the boys, too. and it still does.

was it easier to overlook adult indiscretions than protect a child? apparently so. it was easier than confrontation resulting in a lost reputation or a statutory rape charge.

no one knew much about soul ties or soul wounds in those days. no one knew what would utterly break the fragile heart of a seventeen year-old girl. maybe he didn’t know, either. maybe he would have made a different choice. maybe not. she hadn’t been the only one.

his history wasn’t any nicer than hers, she recalled. an abusive father. beatings. similar story, different town. too many similar stories, not enough love, not enough goodness. not enough honor. no healthy boundaries. no respect for women. and no jesus.

the summer of heartbreak

it was not the summer of love. it was the summer of heartbreak and more loss, the quick, necessary construction of more protective walls. when he took her up north for a weekend, it was to tell her he was breaking up with her. he was going to go live his dream, moving far enough away to put several states and ocean water between them.

even now, she couldn’t remember when she began to cry or how she stopped. the song ‘voices carry’ played, cautioning her to keep her voice down, “hush, hush, keep it down now, voices carry, hush, hush, keep it down now, voices carry..”

the motorcycle ride home from that weekend was several hours long. a motorhome crossing the center line on a curve nearly took them out. the weather was a mix of sunshine, rain and hail. she had blisters on her face for weeks after.

the questions still came to her. school administrators, why didn’t you protect us? you saw it – you saw it all. the other teachers saw it all, too. teenagers are no less vulnerable than small children – the vulnerability just looks different.

dad, mom, where were you? she knew where they were. miserable in their own mess. did anyone see her? did anyone love her? was she just invisible? helloooo? was anyone there?

sigh. yes, her parents did the best they could do with what they had at the time. no use crying over what was anymore. well, no. not exactly. to forgive without fully feeling anger or grief leaves a wound that weeps silently for years. righteous anger demands expression as much as it demands justice.

she loved her parents, honored them as a choice of her will. it was the right thing to do. in the big picture, it mattered quite a lot, even though there were days she wanted to be jenny from the movie, ‘forrest gump’ and throw rocks at the house she grew up in. throwing rocks only caused more brokenness. it wasn’t a solution.

throwing rocks wouldn’t take back the hand of the parent that slapped her, upsetting her so much she hyperventilated, her left lung collapsing. she called him to take her to the hospital. there was no one else she could call. he was bothered, annoyed even. he was getting ready to leave on vacation and there she was all emotional and unable to breathe. he took her to the emergency room in his pickup, went home, and headed west on his motorcycle.

she told the doctor what happened at home. he blew it off, didn’t report it. when her mom came to visit her in hospital, she spoke firmly to her. “tell that ********* if he ever hits me again, he’s going to jail.”

all the #metoo stuff triggered memories and opened old wounds. she could see his face, even recall the last time he showed up at her house at 2 am, throwing little pebbles at her bedroom window to wake her up. her father came downstairs to wake her, announcing, ‘that guy is outside waiting for you,’ as she wondered what he wanted.

perhaps he had guilt.

she’d heard he slept with another high school girl. more insult heaped upon injury. and now he was here, quite drunk. she was seventeen. he was twenty-four. the numbers said what they said. he should have known better in a few things.

they walked off the farm yard out to the creek. he was playing, acting strangely, teasing her. she was not amused. they walked back to the farm. she begged him not to get back on his motorcycle. he was too drunk to drive. he left anyway. that was the last time she saw him.

she wondered if he’d given up the scientology cult, if he’d recognized jesus coming after him hard yet, she hoped so. now, she prayed for it.

her emotions still registered anger. but it was good anger. it was okay. be angry, sin not. she looked him in the eyes in the spirit. he could barely look back at her hazel eyes on fire.

“let me be clear. you had no right to take what was not yours. but i forgive you.” with a choice of her will, she forgave him. she’d asked jesus to take it all. maybe throwing a bucket of rocks one by one into the river would help process any remaining feelings of anger.

there was more. hidden freemasonry curses on her life demanded things of her she never knew, never agreed to. the unknown agreement her grandfather made with the occult set her on paths of death and destruction. grandpa didn’t know what he signed up for, and when he realized it, he couldn’t get out. momma’s life was cursed, as was her dad’s, their life together. curses of all manner came on her, beginning in the womb, bringing devastation on every level.

she realized she had rejected her own beauty because it was always used to destroy her. now, she could embrace that same beauty with no more fear of exploitation, manipulation or abuse of authority.

she was papa’s girl before anything else these days. she had overcome the past. she wasn’t defined by the things that were done to her or said about her. she wasn’t the whore the clique girls at school said she was. she wasn’t the broken, unloved seventeen year-old anymore, either.

absolute truth tells her a different story about who she is, about who the people who hurt her really are. absolute truth declares all humanity is made in the image and likeness of papa god.

humans are good, the very crown of creation. even in the darkest moments, true glory dwells within the man or woman doing the bad things. humans already in the light of papa god must seek it and see it in those still sleeping, to awaken them, to call them into sonship with papa god.

she did a once-over of her life now. she was rich. rich in peace. rich in friendships. rich in love, compassion and forgiveness. rich in laughter, rich in joy.

the visual came a moment later.

smiling now, she sat right down in the weeds and waited for the poppies to grow up around her. for years, they’d been watered with her tears, sorrow, forgiveness, laughter & hope. they grew strong, tall and brilliant, drowning out the dullness of the weeds.

jesus took her through her healing when it was safe.

he made her new.

she was a graceful, glorious one. and always had been.

cleaning up family history

after the gathering, things opened up and began to accelerate. the help and revelation she’d asked father for were present and available. it was time to clear out the mess, to get some things scrubbed clean.

as she considered what was before her, she knew she needed wisdom and equipping. “teach me, lord. i have to be equipped.” he answered her quickly. “i’ve made you to be a warrior, a strong one. do not be afraid to learn the things i am going to teach you to overcome the enemy where you live.” she answered him simply. “okay.”

he went on to give her a visual to help her walk it out. she saw a woman in a torn, dirty t-shirt and jeans on her knees in the dirt. she was washing clothes the old fashioned way with a washboard and a tub of water. each piece of clothing had years of wrong alignments, curses, stains and grime that had become part of the fabric. her long hair partially obscured her view as she rubbed each piece of clothing across the washboard until it looked like new.

washboard-840428_960_720 — *photo credit: pixabay*

her nails were broken, her arms and shoulders ached. she was tired, yes, but it didn’t matter. enough was enough. she was going to recover all her family had suffered. the days of demons controlling her, her family and her city were coming to an end.

broken to whole

this new book was packed with revelation. both women bought the book at the roughly the same time. her friend began with the final chapter. that signaled significance, so she began there, too. what she read set her over on tilt. it was true, then. those gut feelings didn’t lie.

she dialed her momma’s cell phone. it was late there. she might be sleeping. the telephone rang several times. to her surprise, momma answered the phone.

“hello.”

“mom. you’re still up?”

“yes, i’m just watching television.”

“i wasn’t sure you’d be awake. i know it’s late there. listen, i’ve been looking into some things and i have some questions. do you know if anyone on your side of the family or dad’s was ever involved in freemasonry?”

momma jumped right in. “your dad would never get involved with anything like that, no. but grandpa was in it. he joined through the pipe fitter’s union or something. they promised him a lot of money when he retired.”

she held her breath for a moment. momma continued. “you know, they don’t believe in god, don’t you?”

“yes, mom. i know. it’s evil. and it explains why grandpa was so tormented when he died.” momma’s next words caught her off guard. “i know. that’s why i left the room.” she recalled the sounds of the sick, elderly man screaming in his hospital bed. both women were silent as their personal movie reels played in their minds simultaneously. the unredeemed parts of his soul were about to go through cleansing fire. it must have been terrifying for him.

this was a new topic of conversation for them. the younger woman had a myriad of questions answered in a few short sentences, while the older one wasn’t sure where it was going. she continued on interviewing her momma. “what about grandma’s side? were any of them involved in this stuff?”

“i don’t know. i was just an infant when grandpa took me away.” “i thought you told me you were three years old when he took you?”

“no, i was a baby. they settled it in divorce court. grandpa was 7 or 8 years older than my mother. her mother thought she was too young to be married and have a child.” well, then. clearly some soul fractures occurred in those events. and they continued.

this would have been enough trauma, but now it was apparent that freemasonry oaths and curses were in play, too. when grandpa died, they took full effect on her momma. as the oldest child in the next generation, they impacted her as well as her own son.

they talked a few minutes longer, reviewing names and rank in her grandmother’s family again. ethelynn (grandma) was the oldest, then tommy. she remembered he was in the air force years. he used to send gifts from japan. one christmas, she received a beautiful jewelry box as the rest of the family unwrapped their own gifts. she still had the japanese doll he had given her momma.

she knew uncle dwight. she’d met him and aunt joan when they came for graduation. he’d served in the navy. momma spoke up. “there was another brother, too.”

“what??”

“yes. there was another brother after tommy. all i know about him is that he was a drunk. and dwight was the youngest.”

more rabbit trails to follow. something with london persisted. others were seeing it, too. something about going back to her roots. in the meantime, it was time to get clean of the freemasonry mess.

she went into the heavenly court of accusation to deal with the matter, acknowledging and agreeing with the accuser that, yes, her grandfather had participated in this evil. she forgave him and pled the blood of jesus as her righteousness. the power of the curses began to weaken instantly. there was more work to do but it was a good beginning. there would be more interviews with momma.

additional research identified the local lodges and other fraternal organizations near the place she grew up. on the surface, they appeared harmless enough. but they were not.

when allegiance is given to anything but father god, there is idolatry. and there are issues.

thejanedoechroniclesdotcom

Dio (God) is forte (strong) and presente (present) in every pasticcio (mess)

Category: deliverance