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.

copyright jane doe productions © 2019

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.

b7c21adb5fbddaed4fd322d0e1e34ca0
photo credit: the heathman lodge
2773d47ec20ad484beb4ee585eb7c124
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.”

door-1089638_960_720
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.

 

 

shouting into the wind

they drove to the coast for the day. she had some props to stage and photograph for a piece she was writing. she invited him along for company, for help and because she loved him.

it wasn’t a good weather day at the beach. the temperature was cold and the sky was overcast. the wind blew hard. after parking the car, they got out their cameras to explore the treasures of the beach.

IMG_1916
photo credit: jane doe

it wasn’t long before he began walking the other direction, intently focused on unusual birds and adjusting camera settings. maybe today he would get perfect shots that would fix all the broken things.

IMG_1914
photo credit: jane doe

she watched him go, giving him time do what he loved. it was low tide, offering them a rare opportunity to see eddies and tide pools normally hidden in high tide. the wind and the waves formed intricate designs and patterns in the sand. she took a few photos as she admired the handiwork and creativity of the one who’d made it all.

after a while she needed his help.  she began calling his name as she walked toward him. to her surprise, he turned and walked the other direction, oblivious to her calls, to her existence on the beach with him. she started shouting his name hoping he would hear her voice above the wind, willing him to hear her deep calling to his.

suddenly, stark reality pierced her heart. tears and wind stung her eyes. she stopped shouting and stopped walking.  she stood still in the wind watching him walk further away from her.

she realized he wouldn’t have needed to hear her if he saw her and honored her in his heart. he would have sensed her need and heard her calling him in his spirit.

but he couldn’t honor her because he didn’t honor father. and there were things blocking his vertical relationship with his abba. they were cameras, lenses, flash drives, birds, animals, all good things, yes, but they’d become idols.

the very gifts he’d been given were now stumbling blocks as he looked to them for identity and fulfillment. every day, he put them first, blocking the goodness, love and healing father wanted to pour into him.

those good things caused blindness, a tunnel vision in every part of his life. he was unable to see anyone else because he was focused on himself. similar to a funhouse mirror, the tunnel vision was destroying the very relationships he said mattered most to him.

vertical relationships with father, jesus and holy spirit must be correctly aligned for horizontal relationships with people to work.

first things first.

jane doe productions © 2018

 

 

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.

copyright jane doe productions © 2018

 

the white orchid

it was a birthday gift from a *sister, the one who filled the role of *jonathan in their david and jonathan relationship.

orchid-3274591_960_720
photo credit: pixabay

it was breathtaking, in full bloom the day she received it, adorned with five beautiful white blossoms. she’d never had an orchid before. it intimidated her. she knew they could be tricky to care for.

not only that, but this was a gift from a friend. what if it died? this was different than failing with a plant you bought for yourself. there was pressure to keep the plant alive and nurture the relationship that was clearly from papa god. oh boy.

over time, the delicate white petals dried up and gently fell to the cabinet below. the stems that held the petals also dried up and fell off. only a long green stalk remained where so much glory and beauty had shown weeks earlier. even the stalk began to dry up. she clipped it back, hopeful it would prevent further decay. it did not.

desperate, she cut it back again. ugh. this was a failure. no, she was failing at caring for the white orchid. so she thought.

there was danger in overwatering these plants. she followed the watering instructions. and somehow overwatered it. the little pieces of bark on the top of the pot grew mold. the small new shoots at the bottom of the plant were moldy. more failure. frustrated, she cut off some of the moldy shoots. they would not recover from the mold.

conversely, the green leaves at the base of the plant were huge. they looked healthy while the stalk that once held the flowers was dried up and quite a bit shorter than before. she shook her head. overall, the prognosis was poor. the big leaves were healthy but would it ever bloom again?

every day she looked at the orchid, wondering if she should just throw it in the dust bin and be done with it. looking at it was tormenting, a constant reminder of failure.

one day, with a burst of resolve, she moved it to the window ledge. here it would get intense sunlight whenever the sun made an appearance during the rainy winter. she still gave it an occasional drink, teetering between willing it to live and wanting to pitch it. she was sure she sucked at caring for this gift. where had the green thumbs gone?

months went by. on the saturday morning before easter sunday, she decided to give it a little drink. she considered it might be wise to turn the whole plant around on the window ledge. the backside of the orchid could benefit from the sun, too.

this complicated plant closely mirrored another relationship. she wrestled with vision, hope, and big promises from papa god about this one. all her eggs were in this one basket. the investment was great, the risk high, the reward and return not yet realized. it made her lay awake at night sometimes. what was that about walking by faith and not by sight?

reaching down, she turned the plant 180° and set it down gently. sitting back down at her desk, she saw it. there was a new, beautiful green shoot growing from the stalk she’d cut back and left for dead. not only that, there was another smaller shoot growing up at the base of the pot on the top of one of those big, healthy green leaves.

new life was springing up all over this plant.

she was dumbstruck. leaning in for closer examination with wide eyes and eyebrows raised, she found yet another new shoot growing from underneath another large green leaf. even the moldy shoots that remained were growing new shoots. what???

Shirley Temple
photo credit: tv guide

the stalk she’d thought was dead was now producing new life. she looked at it, tears running down her face. new life was springing up all over this plant she’d wanted to toss out.

she looked spoke to the orchid and the man she loved in her words of blessing.

“i bless you to grow and bloom more than you were ever told you could.”

the plant and the man would respond beautifully to her words of love and encouragement.

it was easter morning when she wrote this post. the deer were passing through the back yard, playing and leaping as they often did. her morning cup of coffee went down easy as she listened to elisabeth cooper (the journey) sing about the banqueting table set before her.

the plant continued to speak to her. things were seldom as they appeared. more tears flowed.

then she heard daddy god’s quiet voice break into her thoughts, mingling with her hopeful tears.

“what you see as failure, i see as growth…”

 

copyright jane doe productions © 2018

high tea

her experience with high tea was limited to british tv programs. she’d spent countless hours howling in laughter watching ‘fawlty towers‘, ‘keeping up appearances‘ and ‘to the manor born.‘ she’d owned every episode on vhs, even had them memorized, a fact that was a well kept secret until now. she’d always had a fascination with all things british, the humor, the mannerisms, jane eyre, the yorkshire moors and old english estates. fancy that.

 

her momma told her of her heritage as a child: english, irish and german. the german slice was of little interest, further proven out by her near failure of german class in high school. the english and irish pieces of her heritage, though, they were fascinating and very alive. she was convinced narnia was a real place somewhere over there. and by george, she was going to have a chocolate box cottage one day, yes, she was.

Chocoloate Box Cottage
photo credit: google

papa god, good papa that he is, why, he even brought her a friend whose roots were all united kingdom. she grew up having tea several times a day. fascinating. black tea, cucumber sandwiches, sausage rolls, little cakes and tarts, biscuits and digestive crackers. licorice all sorts and peppermints. she knew about all of it, lived it. brilliant.

weeks prior, her friend had told her of this place, a real destination, a very british place with all manner of british fair. oh my. they plotted and planned to visit and eat english pastry. filled with gluten. and sugar. it was time to break all the eating rules if only for a bit.

finally, the day came. they were going to go the ‘place’ for high tea. she speculated to said friend, “certainly, there will be a portal in the place and we’ll just translate to the united kingdom. why not?” indeed, why not?

in keeping with the english theme, rain fell steadily as they drove along to their destination. the pair of them were rather a sanitized version of thelma and louise with a jesus bent, slightly more than eccentric and completely over people pleasing. this was their time. yes, it was.

her friend encountered a problem during the drive. the passenger headrest did not fit her head and neck properly, so for nearly the entire trip, she was not only uncomfortable, but also in a bit of pain. clearly, this was not acceptable. alas, there was no way to remedy the issue while they were driving, so on they went.

each lady had dressed for the occasion, looking very lovely, all made up and gushing with childlike anticipation. when they pulled up to the front of the restaurant and gift shop, she put the car in park and took in the sight before them. her mouth opened to a perfect ‘o’ like shirley temple might have done.

Shirley Temple

she drew in a long breath like a little girl seeing her first lollipop. the women turned and looked at each other. oh. my. goodness. they had arrived. they were going in. this was going to be good, jolly good, right?

they walked to the entrance and paused, trying to decide who would go in first. it was too much excitement. walking through the foyer, they approached the doorway into the restaurant. a voice without a body asked how many were in their party. she responded, “two, please,” to the invisible woman who then appeared to take them into the dining room.

they slowly entered the charming, quaint space and looked about. the hostess encouraged them to sit wherever they would like. they agreed on a table near the window with a wall opposite them on one side and more tables on the other. the wall featured various photos of british royalty. they gazed upon the royal family, prince philip and the queen mum. she was resting on the wall right above them, gazing down upon their table. surely all would be well if the queen was keeping watch.

 

their waitress left them to peruse the menus. more big eyes formed as oohs and aahs sounded over the potential selections available to their palates. this was akin to the wallace and gromit episode, ‘a grand day out.‘ could it get better? they decided on the high tea plate. it looked like a feast. after placing their orders, they looked at each other across the table, still hardly believing they were there. it was surreal. america was a world away as they took in the atmosphere.

her friend was moving her neck about, still trying to ease the ache she felt from the headrest issue. always the fixer, always the healer, she looked across the table and spoke. “if you ever get a pair of those balls….” her words trailed off as her ears heard what her mouth had just uttered in public. at the very proper british restaurant.

it hit her at the same time she observed her friend’s expression, the mirth showing in her eyes and already escaping her mouth. and then it was over. it went from zero to sixty in three seconds flat as both women erupted in laughter, doubled over with hands over their mouths. did that really just happen? yes, love, it most certainly did. brilliant.

kind reader, do stop for a moment. it’s not what you think. really. those balls are not the balls you’re imagining right now. these balls were invented by a ballerina in new york city. these are different, for different purposes. oh my. google miracle balls. you will see.

Miracle balls-e1361223039822
photo credit: google

back to the problem at hand. there was no way to reel those words back in. she didn’t dare look at the family to her right. she didn’t know if the father or his children had heard her words, but they were certainly hearing them try to contain the snorts and chortles. crikey, mate.

after several minutes of hysterics, they contained themselves. the queen mum hanging on the wall was no longer looking on with approval, however. her countenance had gone from a controlled, stately expression to one of stern disapproval. who were these two brash american women sorely lacking in manners and decorum, and what was a queen to do?

High Tea
photo credit: jane doe

enjoy high tea, that’s what.

and they did. what a meal. it was more gluten and sugar than either of them had consumed in six months.

cheers.

copyright © jane doe 2017

 

the girl who wasn’t clumsy

she wasn’t sure when the thought came to her. and to go to that restaurant? she hadn’t been there since they’d last been there together. the pleasant thought stayed with her until it became almost a compulsion. breakfast food. ham and eggs. what?

scrambled-eggs-5865_960_720
photo credit: pixabay

the weekend arrived and the prompting to go out to breakfast persisted. but it wouldn’t happen today. today was just about rest. she had no intention of leaving the house. the last week brought revelation and information she hadn’t necessarily appreciated, even though it was necessary. mucking around in family cobwebs was dusty and dirty. an epsom salt bath to get it off was in order. saturday was largely uneventful, exactly the way she wanted it.

then sunday morning came. she rose early and cleaned up. should she go to church? no. that was easy. she was going out to breakfast. ham and eggs called her. ridiculous, but all right.

in the meantime, another friend texted her. she was going through some transitions and needed time. they talked until the issues were unpacked and prayers were spoken to resolve them. it was good to be daughters of the king. he was kind, loving, patient. he ruled his kingdom well.

she left the house, got in her car and drove downtown to the restaurant. there was parking right in the front of the stairs up to the entrance. she parked and sat in the car for a moment. off to the right was the courtyard they’d sat in so many times after church drinking iced teas, beer or hot tea depending on the weather and the mood.

they’d sorted things in this place, laughing, crying, grieving, making friends with their favorite waitress, all the while looking to the future. the memories were sweet and there would be more of them. soon.

this morning, no one was sitting outside. it was still cool, the weekend prior to the grand eclipse. everyone was out of town getting in position to witness the heaven-kissing-earth event.

the only activity was the young woman sweeping the entrance to the courtyard. she was a teenager, fifteen or sixteen perhaps, with long sandy, blonde hair pulled back in a pony tail. she was assigned to wait on any guests who chose to sit outside during her shift.

she was drawn to her. why? she grabbed her bag and exited the car, greeting the young woman at the same time. “good morning! how are you?” there was purpose in being friendly. a door needed opening. they made some small talk, and then she saw them. the young woman’s right cheek had scratches all over it.

“honey, what happened to your cheek?” she asked. the young woman hesitated, unsure of herself. was she embarrassed? was she afraid? what was it?

finally, the waitress met her gaze and answered. “i, uh, fell down. i’m sort of clumsy. i fall down a lot.” she looked into the young woman’s eyes intently. did she call her out or did she meet her where she was? grace took over.

“well, then. you are a daughter of god, and he didn’t make you to be clumsy and fall down. do you mind if i pray for you, honey?” “no, not at all,” the waitress smiled shyly.

she bridged the distance between them with two steps and put her left hand on the girl’s right shoulder. in a few sentences, she commanded her angels to protect her from future falls and harm of any kind, declaring that daddy god would order her steps and make them sure. she blessed her.

when she opened her eyes, she saw the young woman still had her eyes closed. it was a sweet image to see. as they finished, a young man, either a cook or a waiter from inside the restaurant called out from the top of the stairs to young woman. hmm. okay. she would have time to observe more while she ate. she went up the stairs and got seated.

the menu choices were varied and good, but she stuck to ham, eggs, potatoes and sourdough toast. as she ate, she recalled another meal in that place with other dear friends she hadn’t seen in months. more good memories. it was good to be here and think on happy things.

the young woman appeared to clear her plate and refill her water glass. she had been touched that a stranger loved her enough to pray for her, and not say out loud what they both knew: she was not clumsy. she did not fall. someone had pushed her down. hard.

they kept the secret between them and daddy god. it was fine for now. but when she went back there again, she would be checking on the girl who wasn’t clumsy.

(copyright © 2017 jane doe productions)