masks, lemon juice & juan o’savin

it was sunday morning. she got up early, declaring, “this is the day the lord has made, i will rejoice and be glad in it.” she said it again for good measure, so the liar clearly understood he had no entry today. 

she fed the cat. made coffee. listened to another podcast. in her thoughts, she said, “thank you, lord, that i have a mind like a steel trap.” she would not be ashamed of it again. all the information and data she was absorbing would be critical in the future.

she powered through her morning prayers and prayed in tongues for a bit. then the shopping list came to mind. 

she is a planner. anyone who *knows* her knows this. while some make fun, they are secretly pleased she’s gifted this way. she has a plan for every contingency. wisdom sees ahead and makes plans. #hello. 

there were a few nagging things to get before the truckers went on strike after thanksgiving. holy spirit spoke up, “go get your things.” she messed around on amazon checking prices until he nudged her again with a spiritual cattle prod. angels nearly pushed her out the door. “okay, okay, i’m going!” 

what was the urgency here? timing. timing is everything. 

she walked into the store like she usually did: no makeup, no eyebrows. and no mask. 

pulling up her list on the phone, she quickly filled empty water jugs and grabbed the first few items on the list. after that, she searched out the right aisle to get two bottles of organic lemon juice. a pretty, energetic younger woman with a mask on called her out. “you don’t have a mask on.” 

ugh. another karen. great. she met the woman’s eyes and gave her usual response of a having a medical exemption with barely concealed irritation. the woman said, “oh.” she began walking back down the aisle toward the lemon juice muttering, “mind your own business.” 

when she got to the lemon juice, she discovered she couldn’t reach the large sized bottles. several had been sold, so the remaining stock was at the back of the shelf. the man behind her with a cart came to the rescue, offering to help. he was taller, kind, saying he was happy to help where he could. 

somehow, conversation began. the trucker’s strike in support of the trump administration was the first topic and they quickly learned they were of like minds.  mask conversation ensued (of course it did) and she shared her recent experience with the woman a few minutes earlier. 

as they talked and discussed shared beliefs, a woman joined them from the other direction. no, you can’t make this up, and yes, it sure was..

it was the pretty younger woman who’d asked about her mask. the light bulb came on for all them at the same time. the woman was actually giving her a compliment on not having a mask on, not criticizing her. but because she had a mask on, her smile of encouragement wasn’t visible. oi vey.

she was mortified. that was the first time she’d ever told anyone to mind their own business. they were all laughing. and it was all okay. clearly, father god had set up the entire exchange for them to meet and connect. 

she gave them her contact information. they were stoked at how they met because they didn’t usually shop on sunday morningsneither did she..

it was time to mobilize the local warriors. 

and juan’s o’savin’s new book, “kid by the side of the road,” would be very useful.

Artwork credit: Chris Taylor/SeraphimChris

copyright © jane doe productions llc

obedience and reward

glorious and grueling. those were the best descriptors to tie the whole week together. events and details were interwoven for eternity. god assignments, god moments, god words, god plans, god words. “unconventional.” “stay in wonder.”

you couldn’t make it up. nothing compared as she watched the movie reel of their time together. glorious and grueling. warfare was off the chain, but mercy and grace followed them every day. her love was more tangible and unconditional than it had ever been. she wanted to know what love was. this was new, a new height and a new depth. 

when the week was over, life was different, the apartment too quiet. the struggle to move forward into the next assignment was real. she cried out for help from heaven. once the destination hotel reservations were made, breakthrough came and grace covered the route planning and remaining details.

moving forward was like slogging through knee deep mud. packing was hard. frankly, everything was hard at that point. her heart was shattered but there was no time to manage that. there was work to do. healing could wait but forgiveness could not. forgive willingly, completely, and unconditionally. do it often.

the lord sent help. he always does. the cloud of witnesses is real. one witness showed up with tangible support. she shared jesus with this one in another realm months ago, watching as he crossed into heaven after he received the truth. he was grateful and in turn, was assigned to look after her. they were fast friends now.

as she processed events in her big chair, she heard a knock on the door. she opened it to find the witness standing there. she collapsed into his arms. he held her as she sobbed. he was a good friend.

a few days later, she packed the car and turned her keys over to another faithful friend. this one stood in strength and prayer at home, a significant, critical role.  

an ice storm hit that morning (of course it did) making the first few hours of the journey a minefield. old triggers tried to attach as vehicles slid into ditches. holy spirit coached her, encouraging her to focus. the triggers found no place to land. 

as she drove, her witness friend slipped into the passenger seat next to her. his mood was somber, like hers. she thanked him for showing up, grateful for his presence as they drove the highways and interstates together. the miles were filled with prayer, worship, strategy and tears, a different order every day. 

she spent the first night in peoria, nearly choking on her dinner as she watched, ‘the property brothers,’ on hgtv. the enemy held nothing back as unsuspecting viewers were encouraged to furnish their homes with freemasonry symbology designed on furniture and flooring. symbolism will be their downfall.

then came columbus. plenty to pray through as she saw the lexner name on several buildings. these bloodline families are arrogant, believing their good works will cover their evil deeds. this is not how it works. 

on the third day, she crossed over the beltway. authority was granted and she kicked into gear. time to work. she quickly put the witch covens on lockdown, severely limiting any plans they had to disrupt the worship event scheduled for sunday night. 

praying in tongues, she navigated the george washington parkway, laughing out loud as father said, “welcome home, honey.” she gave him an affectionate eyeroll and shook her head. that would be another conversation at a different time. 

the hotel was dark (of course it was.) she put angels to work cleaning her room, settled in, ate dinner and crashed. exhaustion was right there, waiting for her agreement to disable her body and take over the agenda. she pushed it back and focused on the work. 

seventeen is a lovely number, a favorite number used by the elites. seventeen intelligence agencies are strategically placed in the freemasonry architecture of the district of Columbia, which has also served as the military arm of the elite until president trump. symbolism will be their downfall. nothing could stop what was coming. every patriot had a part to play; she was playing hers. 

she slept fitfully, thoughts racing through her mind as she worked to land the plan for sunday. when she woke, she prayed through the normal morning prayer, customizing it for the day. tongues were forceful. no time for play. 

Washington Dc, C, City, Urban, Washington Monument
photo credit: pixabay

when early afternoon arrived, she got a lyft ride with a paranoid covid driver who didn’t want to take her without a mask. she quickly won him over and they settled into conversation. she read him to see what truth she could give him during their short time together. listening to his story, she built him up and gave him a generous tip. 

most people didn’t understand what they were giving place to; that’s the insidious nature of witchcraft.  the mask silences your voice, takes away your breath. this is an occult ritual along with the farcical social distancing edict. what you do not know will hurt you eight ways from sunday.

it was cold and rainy, damp as she exited the lyft near the washington monument. she soon discovered she was underdressed. ugh. nothing to do about it now. she had to suck it up for a few hours. at least she had an umbrella. 

she spent the first hour and a half in strategic work, waiting for holy spirit to give her instructions, executing them and sending them across every age, realm, timeline, and dimension, past present and future, into infinity and beyond. this is not a game. she, like many, knew there was one shot at this thing. military precision and timely execution were key. 

the worship event was starting soon. she crossed the street to the national mall assessing the food trucks on hand to feed the hungry worshippers and tourists. the chosen vendor cooked her food and placed it in her hands with a smile. she walked toward the stage quickly eating the hot chicken, joining thousands of people for this epic event. 

she was to blend in the crowd, staying hidden from the witches, warlocks and satanists who were also present. her tongues would weaken any remaining evil juice they had left after the covens were put on lockdown. 

settled on the right edge of the mall, she finished her food and prepared her heart and mind for the worship. this was no time to leave anything on the table. too much was at stake. tears came quickly and easily as sean feucht welcomed the masses.

*for such a time as this* was the understatement of the century. as the music began, she leaned into holy spirit to see what to release and when. timing is everything. 

arms raised, tears streaming down her cheeks, she purposed to give jesus everything she had, even with her heart in pieces. father honored her in that place with comfort and a promise, saying, “soon, child, soon.” she pressed into him more deeply. he was faithful. 

as the worship continued, people poured onto the mall, bringing passion, devotion and prayers before the throne. in this mass appeal to heaven, lives were redeemed while demonic structures and institutions were torn down. heaven was being pulled on hard by the saints. 

a family of five moved into the open area in front of her, the husband and father, the wife and mother, two daughters and a son. there was a peace and beauty on them, a tangible unity you could touch and feel. the wife and mother was radiant. she was well loved and honored. the children were secure and confident even in their youth. 

she watched them together as they began to worship, all five of them. this was church. this was true family. and there was more. 

the rain began to fall on the crowd. already in love with the family in front of her, she did what a mother does and walked forward toward them. in a few steps she was behind them all holding her umbrella high over the little group. the beauty of the moment, the love of her gesture caught the family off guard as they realized she had moved in behind them to keep them dry. 

after a few moments, the wife and mother, andrea, turned to thank her and make introductions. suddenly, she was family. andrew, the husband and father, stood at her right, towering over all of them at six feet and six inches tall. 

he held their young son in his right arm as he leaned down to her and gently took the umbrella from her right hand with his left hand. “let me hold this for us.” she looked back at him, grateful for her inclusion into their clan. “i wasn’t supposed to be here alone.” his eyes expressed compassion and understanding without the need for spoken words. 

tears pricked at her eyes as she felt his immense love for his family. he was their protector and they knew it. in her heart, she spoke to abba, “i want that..” 

after a time, everyone prayed for the state they were from. her newly adopted family moved often so they named the states they had lived. to her surprise, andrew was from her own home state. they visited, held hands and prayed together as a family, all six of them. 

she took time to draw the little girls close to her and hug them. they hugged her back. family. worship continued, then more prayer, assignments were given to people. lou engle called upon the daughters of eve to rise up and defeat jezebel, asking everyone to lay hands on the women around them. 

she watched as andrew reached forward with his right hand and placed it on andrea’s shoulder. what he did next wrecked her. he placed his left hand on her shoulder to pray for her, too. now the floodgates were open, and tears streamed down her cheeks again. “father, i want this..” the silent prayer.

this man was unlike most she had ever met. he sang over his young son as he held him. the love and devotion he showed toward his family was unhindered and limitless. he knew who he was and he willingly took his position. 

this family were her gift that cold, rainy, once in lifetime evening, worshipping on the national mall in washington dc. they were her great reward for obedience in the face of circumstances beyond her control. 

she was cold, tired, spent. abba spoke up, told her to go home, her assignment was done. she heard the pleasure in his voice and her step was lighter for it as she walked back across the national mall to get a lyft. 

after returning to her room, she organized her things for departure the next morning.

the journey home was largely uneventful, save for road construction delays and some fog. 

her friend from the cloud of witnesses made part of the trip with her again. the assignment behind her, she could focus on matters of the heart. there were many, along with songs, prayers and tears to accompany them. 

obedience forces his hand. 

the reward is great on the road less traveled.

copyright © 2020 jane doe productions llc

this hard place

is was the best of times and the worst of times. 2020.

cognitive dissonance became a daily occurrence as hidden works of darkness were revealed.

like the realization that all those narnia stories were not just stories. they were real.

c.s. lewis, in his wisdom, was gracious enough to provide word pictures of the future he saw, to warn the world what was coming.

the books became training films depicting a dark, powerful army bent on enslavement, death and destruction.

and here she was. all around her she now saw what he saw then. the pages of the books were alive.

this is not a game.

war erupted openly in the streets, driven by a relentless enemy.

headlines were grim. fires blazed across the west coast. people died. animals died.

enemies of the people openly threatened more death.

grief, heartache, mass rioting, all told unthinkable stories in this hard place.

people lost everything as arsonists and drones set fires across the land.

deep state and shadow government figures utilized direct energy weapons, the evidence caught on film.

law enforcement on every level was caught exposing their allegiance.

it was ugly.

what the headlines didn’t say was significant.

what was god doing?

he was busy.

redemption roared across the planet, freeing humanity and creation from bondage, plowing through hard places like a battering ram.

it plowed through rock walls, accessing tunnels in hollow earth.

brave patriots destroyed enemies, going in after them, rescuing the nameless, faceless ones.

they’d either been trafficked or born into the catacombs.

some were tortured, some enslaved for sex or child production. baby mills. some were used lab experiments. every story held horrific details.

some never saw the light of day until the rescue, while others never would see never see it at all.

her own hot extraction was a miracle, one she dissected almost daily.

the assignment was completed, but the was danger high. she didn’t know what she knew. but they would know when she knew. and that was a problem.

leaving was a mixture of deep gratitude, relief and survivor’s guilt.

nine years of memories flooded the car as she drove across the country. the rearview mirror had plenty of stories to tell.

some things could never be spoken out loud while other things would never be reconciled in this life.

post traumatic stress clung to her like sticky cobwebs. triggers were frequent the first few weeks as she struggled to heal and rest.

moving forward was the only path.

re-engage the gifts. set the captives free.

listen. encourage. love. give.

just help.

jesus was always present. but in this hard place, his hands were visible, his protection and provision undeniable. he was in the rest and healing.

when she was strong enough to field it, he threw his question at her from right field. it wasn’t an easy catch. they seldom were.

he asked her if she would cast her bread on the water again. now there was a verse she hadn’t heard in a very long time. what did that mean?

she unpacked the inference, saw it, heard him. “do it one more time. trust me one more time.

she drew in a breath, blinked back tears, steadied her lips to answer decisively.

“yes, lord. i will do it. one more time.”

photo credit: pixabay

risk always carries uncertainty.

but risk avoidance is a guaranteed detour to hope deferred.

one more time.

she’d placed the large piece of sourdough in the car the night before, not wanting to forget it.

the journey took took some time. funny how the fog lingered until she reached clear lake. god is always speaking. and he is funny.

four hours later, she parked the car at the destination. this was a big day.

a well groomed trail led out to water’s edge. she sat on a log bench for a while, looking at the water, listening to it splash over the rocks.

when the time was right, she stood up, pulled the sourdough out of her pocket and walked to the water.

bread in hand, she gently tore it into eight pieces, tossing them one by one into the headwaters of the mighty mississippi.

she declared back to jesus what he’d asked of her, bringing her heart into alignment with his.

photo credit: jane doe

it was a pivotal moment, a holy moment in this hard place.

copyright © 2020 jane doe productions llc

the day i grew another pair

this morning was intense.

first, i heard another sister’s heavy heart regarding the overall apathy she was seeing.

then i recounted the courage and boldness i’ve witnessed in other believers and patriots the last few days.

it all drove me to do something, to take decisive action.

i acquired more testicular fortitude. yes. i did it.

i grew another pair of balls.

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and then i went out to do errands, praying in tongues the whole time.

upon visiting my financial institution, i was promptly stopped at the door and told masks were required. i calmly responded that i was unable to wear a mask. the woman was taken aback that anyone dare challenge the deceitful, oppressive and satanic narrative.

she said it was a good thing they weren’t busy. i went to the counter and engaged with the teller. i proceeded to do my business quietly, politely, laughing with her and thanking her when i was done.

the next stop was the discount grocer. no one stopped me or badgered me in any way. i had a great shopping experience, smiled at people and saved $39.00 on my grocery bill.

then i went to the pet food store. i love the owner, always have. but she and her staff have been taken captive by fear. you cannot enter the store without a mask. i entered, offering again i was not able to wear one.

the young woman wanted me to go outside to wait. she would shop for me. i explained that they’re in violation of osha laws by requiring me to wear a mask and not allowing me inside the store. the man working the counter snapped at me, “it’s the law to wear a mask!”

“no, it’s not. all these things are guidelines, not laws.”

“well, we would prefer it if you waited outside.”

the young woman got my things while i stood by the door giving her direction on which items i wanted to purchase. i was not rude or demanding. i spoke the truth and it was offensive. i thanked her when i left, wondering if i would be welcomed back.

i’ve shared the, “out of the shadows,” movie with the owner (not present today), as well as other tidbits of truth. i’ve invited her to coffee or dinner to have real conversations, but she won’t take me up on it.

she knows i love her, but fear has so gripped her, she is too afraid to take hold of any truth that would free her from the bondage.

when i show up now, she’s not happy to see me.

freedom has become an offense.

people are not aware of our god given liberties trampled each and every day.

to not speak truth is not love.

love speaks truth so others do not perish.

and perishing occurs at many levels. it’s how we got here in the first place.

it was both uncomfortable and liberating to speak today.

i held my head high and engaged eye to eye and face to face whenever i could.

and no one will ever be able to ask, “why didn’t you tell me?”

i did.

and i will continue to fight for you, even in your slumber, because love does that.

tyranny is at the door with its hand on the knob, attempting to throw it wide open.

i will not allow it on my watch.

what say you, patriot?

jane doe productions llc copyright © june 2020

 

red pill resources

the movie, “the matrix,” has much to teach us. the title is a reference to the movie. it involves coming out of world systems, mk ultra programming and into freedom we have never known.

we’re witnessing the liberation of millions of children from human slavery, trafficking and satanic ritual abuse, torture and cannabalism. yes, it’s that bad. and worse.

Chains, Feet, Sand, Bondage, Prison, Freedom
photo credit: pixabay

you’re free to stop here to breathe. pray. each of us is different.

your awakening is your own. don’t run from it and don’t fear it.

put yourself in father god’s hands with all these things.

there are resources and links below to get you started.

one rabbit trail will connect to many more.

godspeed. wwg1wga.

websites and youtube resources

q is a multi-year process to disclose secret illegal government activity

q anon for beginners – start here

q updates

q updates (another option)

out of shadows (excellent documentary)

patriot productions

praying medic – q podcasts

fall cabal

fall of cabal part five (hard to watch)

and we know

deep underground military bases

deep underground military base – update

bride ministries youtube videos

dan duval – one chosen to be a mother of darkness interview – part 1

dan duval – interview my training to become a mother of darkness – part 2

corey’s digs – investigative journalism

michael avicii – for a better day

operation freedom – dr. dave janda

gracie west interview

amanda grace

who to follow on twitter

bardsofwar

cjtruth

joem

president trump

george

praying medic

jane doe

tiffany fitzhenry

inthematrixxx

john solomon

mark taylor

dan bongino

dan scavino jr.

qanon76

jordan sather

candace owens

sun_q_tzu

i bless you to be led where you need to go, to learn what you need to learn, to be who you’re called be to as a son of god to complete your destiny scroll.

copyright © 2020 jane doe productions llc

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.

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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.

copyright © jane doe productions llc

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.

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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.

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photo credit: calstate.aaa.com

it was a holy moment.

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

 

 

jane what???

good day, dear reader,

upon waking, we (referring to my various alter egos) had no idea we would be writing today. indeed, i remarked earlier to a friend that jane doe was still on hiatus and we did not know when she would be returning.

however, the events of today warranted that the lesser known jane what??? make a public appearance to pen comedy for all of you. things have been heavy of late, yes, and while we are assured of victory in every battle, some good roaring laughter can go along way. here we go:

the alarm went off at 5:45 am quickly followed by a muttered ‘shut up’ as my hand groped for the snooze button. this sequence occurred several times, each time resetting the device to ring in 9 minutes. i gave in to it about 6:45 wishing i felt more rested.

the 3 am antics of buddy the wonder cat had already negatively impacted my mood. thus, he found himself on yet another time out in the bathroom until mommy was ready to get up.

i crawled out of bed and located the uncle fester inspired spoonk mat (you can look that up on amazon). plopping it on the floor for the first part of the morning routine. lying down on the sharp acupressure points for a few minutes to awaken my back and spine is a good thing. some would call this torture. i would agree.

after getting myself upright again, i let the cat out of jail. he was suitably repentant (or at least as much as a cat is willing to repent.) we had a few minutes of play before i surveilled the state of my small apartment.

it was a mess. small spaces require more frequent attention or it goes bad quickly. i carried a thoroughly stuffed laundry basket into my main room and dumped it on the floor. clearly, the basket itself had developed supernatural capacity because this was not one load of laundry; it was three. ugh.

i sorted clothes. i counted quarters. yes, i can do this. so off i went with the 1st load to the laundry room. it’s equipped with one washer and one dryer for all seven apartments. i loaded the washer, fed it coins and detergent and scooted back before anyone saw me.

after brewing my cuppa, i sat down at the computer to catch up on social media and thank papa for this day, asking holy spirit to order my weekend.

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photo credit: pixabay

after a nice conversation with m. on messenger, i drank my coffee, scrolled twitter and the cia life tracker (oops, i mean facebook. do not send me any ugly messages. you know it’s true.)

with caffeine powering me, i began the business of picking up and clearing out to get the vacuuming under way. when that task was accomplished, i carted the second load of laundry to the laundry room. this one had the sheets and mattress pad in it. i purposely did it in this order so i wouldn’t have to do the third load today if i ran out of mojo. the first load went into the dryer and i returned to the vacuuming.

after cleaning the bathroom and kitchen, i went to retrieve the  first load from the dryer, folding it after throwing the sheets, etc. into the dryer. with the first load was folded, i went back to my apartment and finished cleaning the main living space. hang in there with me. we’re about to change gears, i promise.

after a suitable amount of time passed, i returned to the laundry room to retrieve the second load from the dryer and get the third load drying. the end was in sight.

i pulled open the dryer door to find a foreign object on top of my items. YES. something that DID NOT belong to me was in my laundry. my CLEAN laundry. one of my fellow tenants put his (yes, assuming the male species) wet bath mat in MY hot dryer cycle, paid for with MY $$$$, with MY clean sheets and mattress pad in it.

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photo credit: jane what???

jane very loudly exclaimed, “WHAT???” yes, she did. i did. whatever. we ALL did.

ladies, i bet you KNOW every thought i was having in that moment. WHO does THIS??? WHAT???

going into full detective mode, i considered which apartment housed the guilty party. there are only 7 here. the process of elimination pointed the arrow to the culprit(s) quickly.

i walked over and knocked on the apartment door, waiting a moment. no answer. but i could hear the silent, ‘uh, oh’ through the door.

i returned to folding my sheets, hearing that same apartment door open and close several times while i was still in the laundry room. i smelled their fear at being busted for this heinous act.  the big momma alter ego was having too much fun.

possession is still 9/10’s of the law. i have the offending bath mat secured in my apartment. it is my hostage until the owner is courageous enough to knock on my door and own his offense.

in wisdom, i notified my landlord about this infraction. he offered that if my big momma voice was good enough for him, it will be good enough for them as well.

this, friends, is jane what???’s crazy story for the day. you can’t make this stuff up.

something tells me the boys will just go buy another bath mat..

WHAT???

 

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