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

 

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

 

 

 

 

falafel and the circus

the long anticipated trip quickly approached. like any assignment she’d been given, the warfare and distractions intensified as the mission neared. while warfare was expected, she was nearly always caught off guard by the people it came through.

recent events and dreams revealed details difficult to choke down rather like a massive hairball. while she unraveled freemasonry in her own family, she saw it clearly in his family line, too. he didn’t want to hear about it even as she encouraged him to do the work to be freedom from the curses.

she told him about the resource she’d used. she offered to walk with him through his own process. she shared how much this mattered for future generations of his bloodline, for his children and grandchildren.

they had dinner scheduled the week of her departure. she located an empty spot in the public parking lot shortly before he arrived. when she saw him drive in and park, she grabbed her purse along with her own copy of the book she’d used to get unwrapped from the deadly freemasonry curses. he was on the phone as she approached his truck. she knocked on the door, startling him. why did he look guilty?

as he exited the truck, she handed him the book, explaining again what was in it, what it would bring and offering her help. her heart was heavily invested in this man and his future, more than he realized. he took the book and tossed it onto the seat, quickly closing the driver’s door.

they strolled arm in arm to the nearby restaurant. once inside, she heard him being overly nice to her, compensating for something. smiling, he encouraged her to, “order whatever you want!” as they viewed the familiar vegan menu. what?? that never happened before.

they sat down at their regular table and began to talk. he couldn’t hold it in anymore. before she knew what was happening, he’d lifted his phone toward her so she could see the photo.

the text messages she’d sent him last weekend were never answered because he was at circus soleil with the woman in the selfie. her heart shattered as she took in the image. there he was, cheek to cheek with a pretty young woman, both of them with big smiles on their faces.

Circus, Arena, Ring, Manege, Fun, Show, Entertainment
photo credit: pixabay

she’s a nurse,” he proudly proclaimed. she was also the woman who called during dinner last week, the same one he met at yoga. she saw it without him saying it. the gifts work even when you wish they didn’t.

in an instant, her clues were verifiable facts and her dream was interpreted. his guilt was consuming him. he’d had to come clean. she tried to keep a poker face and hide her pain, but it was useless. she excused herself to the restroom which quickly became a counseling center between her and holy spirit.

tears sprang quickly. “well. i don’t even know what to do with this. help me keep it together and walk this out.” she quickly recalled past conversations, him telling her he had nothing to give, yet here he was spending significant time with another woman. this after she watched him pull away when she called him out on bad behavior. he didn’t like being accountable.

she saw what was going on. soul fragments were manifesting and causing a mess. they were stuck in time at the same places as when the original wounds had occurred, some decades earlier. they were unredeemed, immature, surly, sweet, unforgiving, childish, charming and petulant.

the restroom was only a temporary haven. someone else would want to use it. she couldn’t stay in there all night. she pulled herself together, wiping away moisture from the corners of her eyes. dinner was going to be tough. she asked for grace as she went back to the table.

conversation was stilted. confirmation of his betrayal sent her reeling. she didn’t have much to say back to him as he described the other activities he’d been involved in.

the falafel had dried out and lost its taste. nuts. she played with food she wasn’t eating, as he offered to take her hiking someplace new when she returned from her trip. she nodded and smiled a lame smile while her inner voice responded, “yeah, okay. i wonder what you’ll be doing while i’m gone.” any remaining trust was all but eroded.

he paid the check, left a tip and they exited the restaurant. she just wanted to get in her car and be alone. her emotions needed a safe place to explode. not quite yet. he walked her to the car and got in the passenger seat. they just sat there. neither was sure what to say to the other. after the awkward silence, they agreed he’d pick her up and take her to the airport on friday.

she observed how he’d been sitting there with his head hanging down. he was feeling badly. he knew he’d hurt her. when he spoke, she was surprised by his words. “i love you.”

then, in a another surprise move, he leaned over and kissed her tenderly on her right cheek. he’d never done that before.

this would take time and some sorting.

it would take much, much longer to sort than she knew in the moment..

copyright © 2019 jane doe productions llc

 

conversations and clues

the entire region was thick with smoke as fires burned out of control. she was driving back from a quick overnight trip. they agreed to meet for late lunch when she returned. the trip was uneventful until she was twenty minutes from home.

traffic slowed, then stopped. there was a wreck on the highway. someone had died. she was triggered. hands shaking, she used the voice recorder to message him a heads up about the delay and the triggering. he responded saying he would pick her up at the house.

as she neared home, she called her friend to pray with her. images of the wrecked vehicles wanted to stick in her mind like super glue, only causing more angst. she fought to keep her peace. it wasn’t the first time she was triggered by a wreck and a death. she let the thoughts go by, asking jesus to heal her and wash away those images. breathe, just breathe. keep breathing. inhale, exhale. let it out.

he pulled up to the house minutes after she arrived. she jumped into his pickup and they drove downtown to their favorite hangout in town, choosing to sit outside in smoky haze generate by fires hundreds of miles away.  they ordered late lunch, happy to have their regular server welcome them.

he pulled out his phone to show her several new family photos sent from his mom. they were photos of his own dad and his daughter together, another of both his parents with his daughter. “look at this!” he said. “purpose. they have purpose! she has given them purpose to live! i guarantee he would not be alive now without her living with them, giving them purpose.”

tears filled her eyes as she listened to him. he had missed all of his daughter’s growing up years, the birthdays, the special events, proms and homecomings. even as regret tried to strong-arm him into condemnation, he was beyond grateful his parents raised his only daughter. she was a beautiful, confident young woman. her grandparents had poured love and care into her. his fought through a whirlwind of emotions and thoughts, battling to get free of years of guilt and shame.

tears in her eyes, she only affirmed him. “i’m so proud of you, so glad you can see this. this was the absolute best thing for her under the circumstances. they gave her a stability you could not. her life would have been destroyed if she’d been with you these years.” it was not an easy truth, but it was the truth, nonetheless. they both knew it.

when lunch was finished they walked to the marina, resting on ‘their’ bench for a minute before walking down the sidewalk. he shared how there were issues with a couple who were friends of his. the wife was having some issues with him being around her husband. he was angry about it, feeling rejected.

she was silent, knowing well the why the wife felt this way. conversation continued as they walked along the river and sat down at a picnic table. the smoke from the fires was thick now. it was getting harder to breathe. wisdom showed up to warn them, but they did not hear her voice.

his work was ongoing drama, too. a new female mechanic was not performing up to his work standards. he was angry at her sloppiness, wanting her to steer clear of his own workspace so he wouldn’t get hurt. he was afraid of getting hurt, afraid of getting sick again. afraid of so many things.

fear had entered his heart as a small boy when he had leukemia. the demon of fear and it’s sidekick infirmity still tormented his mind like a battering ram, keeping him from sleep most nights.

she gently tried to steer him out of the current thought pattern, but he wasn’t having it. suddenly, she’d become the enemy as he looked back at her with daggers in his eyes. she apologized for what she said. it was the quickest way to diffuse his anger and fear.

after a time, they walked back to the truck and he took her home. she mentioned her upcoming trip to him, and asked if he’d take her to the airport. he answered her query with his own. “do you want me to take you to the airport?” “yes, i’d like that very much.” “okay, done.” 

a few days later they had dinner at their favorite mexican restaurant in the city. it happened to be the same place where they often had lively conversation about matters of the heart and family. old memories came back to her as they found a table in the backyard.

shortly thereafter, his phone lit up with a photo of a woman on it. she was calling him. the ringer was silent, but it didn’t keep the photo from popping up. he nervously looked at it, then across the table at her, trying to find a way to explain what he hoped she had not seen.

Communication, Telephone, Phone, Espionage, Spying
photo credit: pixabay

he excused himself to the restroom, clearly busted and guilt-ridden for something she was not yet certain of. filing away the important and curious clue, she later presumed he’d left to call the woman for a brief moment. she saw it, knew she was correct. it was painful when the seer gift showed her more than her heart wanted to see.

they ordered dinner. he began to talk about how he joined a social organization called, ‘meet up.’ it allowed him to meet other people, get out and socialize, so he wouldn’t be ‘that creepy guy” any more. she’d never seen him in that light, but apparently he saw himself this way.

he offered that maybe she could join, too. there were a bunch of christian groups doing things. he pulled out his phone, showed her the app, opening it up so she could see. she might like it. she studied him again. what was this all about? was he inviting her deeper into his world? did he want her to join him in some other type of activities? more puzzle pieces, more filing.

people who go here aren’t looking to date other people

he was going to yoga class, too. hot yoga, designed to release tension, without any of the foo-foo religious stuff. this was purely for stretching and endurance. as they drove down lombard street, he showed her where the studio was.

then he made the oddest remark of the evening. “you know, people who go to this class aren’t looking for people to date. it’s almost 100 degrees in here, so most people don’t have a lot of clothes on.” what??? now, that was just plain odd. what was he talking about? another clue.

her trip was only a week away. he still on board to take her to the airport and pick her up when she returned. the following weekend, she drove north to her friend’s house. she texted him on saturday morning when she woke but never got a response. it stung. something was amiss, out of order. what was it?

her heart hurt as she went to sleep that night. peace was elusive. she would soon understand why. when dreams came, they were vivid, often strange. this one was no exception. it came to her early in the morning, when it was nearly time to get up for the day.

in the dream, there was a race with many people running in it. she was one of them. so was a woman she admired but did not know well. there was a man in the race, too. she knew him, too, but not very well, either.

she observed the man closely. while he wasn’t wearing a shirt, he was wearing running shorts, but something was wrong. he was missing the undergarment one would expect him to be wearing under the running shorts. as he was moving about, he experienced a wardrobe malfunction.

it was not the front of his anatomy suffering exposure, but the backside, the place where one releases excrement. in the dream, she saw his ***hole. it was unexpected and shocking.

at the same time she saw his ***hole, she heard the woman she knew calling her name loudly, warning her. as she transitioned out of the dream, it was her friend’s voice she heard calling her name…

tens minutes later, she had a cup of coffee in her hand as the dream replayed in her mind. oh, my. this would take a minute to process. and still no word from him. why? why was he ignoring her? why wasn’t he responding? it wasn’t like him at all.

the why was revealed in the dream. he was hiding something. he was being an ***hole and he was exposed. was this dream from father or from the liar? what was she to do with it? and what about those clues?

clearly, the inference of the dream could not be ignored. he’d been caught talking out of both sides of his mouth.

it was not funny or cute. it was painful and hard.

he was lying to her.

copyright © 2017 jane doe productions

securing things

memorial weekend. a girls’ weekend. had she ever been on one? no. it would be a weekend to remember.

two new friends were driving in from spokane, coming to her rescue as she worked through loss, grief and shock.

the loss was severe in its own right. she and her furry snowshoe siamese boy had become one, just like adam and eve had been one with creation in the garden. part of her had died with him in the emergency hospital that day. she had no idea how that piece of her heart would live again.

for weeks, the darkness just got worse as she processed through the sequence of events that led to buddy’s demise. wisdom spoke. not all things could be shared as she saw certain details with great clarity. those she’d loved and trusted had committed the heinous acts of betrayal, loosing dark, destructive acts of witchcraft against her in her own home and workplace.

she’d gone into the courts of heaven weeks previously, summoning the guilty parties as holy spirit pointed them out. the usual suspects were present along with some unexpected guests.

she shook her head in disbelief, noting they all belonged to the same witches coven. most of them were rejected by church people. the enemy wasted no time recruiting them, welcoming use of their gifts for his purposes.

jesus strode into the courtroom, addressing the group at large. “you all know why you’re here. let’s get down to business.”

he began the process of calling out the offenses each had committed against her, waiting for them to own their actions before moving on to the next person.

she watched as some hung their heads in guilt. others turned away from jesus in defiance. it was laughable when they turned on each other, pointing fingers and shouting, “he made me do it!”

she called one last defendant into court to join the other wayward children. he’d been clinging to and actively engaging in so-called white witchcraft, learned from his former wife seated at the table. while she was a practicing witch, he’d also done his share of damage. witchcraft is witchcraft. so is guilt by association.

he stood with his head bowed low as jesus spoke. “are you willing to repent, renouncing your allegiance and participation in all witchcraft and occult?” the man nodded his head, ashamed of what he’d given place to. he was unable to look up to see the love in jesus’ eyes’ for him. he couldn’t receive it yet.

the ever righteous judge ruled in her favor because of the blood, because of the cross. those that had placed a bubble of witchcraft around her were also judged not guilty. the cross stood before them all, a constant reminder of our perfection and innocence before father god before the foundation of the world.

when court was adjourned, she left with a spring in her step thinking the onslaught sent against her was over. it was not.

later, she’d see the one man who’d refused to repent. through him, the enemy kept on with intent to destroy her. his unhealed wounds resulted in extreme narcissism. he had a door flung wide open door for jezebel to walk through and she did, taking up residence and full control. while she lived through the last attack, her beloved kitty did not.

the grief was as relentless as the attacks. she’d done everything she knew to clear her apartment and workplace. friends prayed in agreement. demons still manifested in the wee hours of the morning, banging & tapping on the refrigerator. the one who would not repent astral projected into her apartment whenever he wanted. too tired to fight, she relied on her angels to keep her.

the atmosphere at work intensified, ramping up to yet another flare up with her boss. he was overcome with fear, unwilling to yield to papa’s recent invitation to be loved as a son, to walk with him in the garden.

his unhealed wounds allowed the enemy to use him against her. fear, greed, selfishness, pride. more usual suspects. so many of papa’s sons needed more prayer. her boss had no understanding why he did what he did so he blamed her. she asked for more prayers from her facebook family. they obliged.

the next morning, her angels checked in as she left for work. rafael stood towering above her, smiling confidently. “we have you surrounded,  madam.” she grinned, sensing their affection and dedication to her. she saw them in the spirit often. it gave her a sure confidence in father’s ability, desire and promise to protect her.

now she packed for this girls’ weekend. they were coming to her. she didn’t have to go looking for support. help was on the way. faithful friends are precious.

their accommodations were in the heart of the city, but the log cabin décor and atmosphere made them feel like they were deep in the woods. it was perfect. they were minutes from the waterfront, walking trails and great restaurants.

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photo credit: the heathman lodge
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photo credit: the heathman lodge

they got in late friday night and spent time talking about matters of the heart. saturday morning came too early. no one was in a hurry so they took their time getting ready.

as one of them was leaving the room, she noted the door latch didn’t catch when she pulled the door shut. it wouldn’t lock. they quickly realized their room had been unsecured all night long. it was unsettling.

housekeeping was making their rounds in the hall outside. they quickly contacted the building engineer and he hustled right up to their room.  she sat on the bed listening to the man work the door.

one, two, three times she heard him open and close the door. her ears perked up and she said, “wait! listen!” to her friend across the room. father god spoke: “i am securing your calling, i am securing your hearts and i am closing the doors to the things in your lives the enemy has been trying to keep open.”

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photo credit: pixabay

he continued, “like a three-fold cord, you will not be easily broken,” referring to the three of them. the broken latch was fixed at 1:01 pm, indicating new beginnings and fresh starts.

wisdom spoke. “turn your wounds into wisdom.” those few words were filled with power. nothing had been wasted. it was being turned for good.

she saw angels sweeping out her apartment and her workplace. there was an immediate shift in so many things.

their personal lives were not the only ones to be impacted that day. holy spirit gave her instructions for an assignment. later that day, they drove to the waterfront with a small container of salt.

each of them took salt in the hands and it in the columbia river flowing below the platform. as they tossed the salt, she prophesied that the salt was now washing the false face of the new age off of vancouver and all of washington, off of portland and all of oregon. they blessed the river with abundance and supernatural cleansing.

grant-street-pier-columbia-river-vancouver-wa-things-to-do
photo credit: calstate.aaa.com

it was a holy moment.

they stood in silence watching the river, grateful, thankful and secure.