truth, mercy, judgment and the $39,800.00 grift

when the 1st edition of the “kid by the side of the road,” book was published, millions of people around the world ordered copies. many ordered multiple copies to give to family, friends, acquaintances, even complete strangers. 

the content was not new information, but a compilation of various false flags and events with the actual truth of those events detailed out for readers to learn how they had been duped by the government and media all of their lives. 

impressive graphics drew the reader in. the book’s size was oversized by design, made to be a coffee table book. 

grace covered this book. by all appearances at that time, it was done with the right heart motives. 

then the 2nd edition was promoted, also called kid by the side of the road.” this edition had the same cover as the 1st edition, but featured a photo of melania trump on the back cover. she is shown wearing the dress she wore when exiting air force one after leaving the white house at the end of trump’s presidency.  

what was not disclosed in this offering was the fact that all of the content was identical to 1stedition. there was no difference. 

most only learned this when they opened the pages and began reading. the fancy foil on the front cover didn’t make up for the gut punch of feeling ripped off. 

this was the 1st obvious grift. 

the deliberate non-disclosure of the duplicated content was a scam on the people that admired this man. they respected the knowledge he had and held him up a leader in the truther community.

the next grift, the most recent, was more egregious.

200 copies of a special “Pre-Order “The Storm” by Juan O’Savin w/ Whiskey Tumbler Box Set,” item 5343, were marketed on 

she ordered her book and glassed on march 3, 2022. the credit card receipt arrived in her email confirming order #5599 in the 107daily shop.

these purchases were non-refundable, non-cancellable. no date was given as to when these orders would ship.

the persona juan o’savin would occasionally update customers when pressed for answers by various hosts during interviews. 

he explained they were unable to get the special, high-quality paper he was using for these books. this was the reason publicly given for the delay in publication and order fulfillment.

when she emailed for her own order status in december 2022, she was told there had never been a paper shortage, that juan lied [to those who purchased the 3rd edition.]

since march, 2022 until the time of this writing, juan o’savin has been sitting on $39,800.00 (200 X $199.00) and deceiving people about the true reason for the delay.

people still don’t have their orders. 

he openly lied about the delay multiple times. 


shocked, angry and heart sick didn’t begin to describe the emotions she experienced as she heard a different side of the juan o’savin persona on every interview she listened to. 

father god was allowing her to hear what he heard until she could listen no more.

he stopped fighting for the people and instead began promoting himself.

he was more concerned with pushing product and artwork.

his great knowledge had become a stumbling block as people idolized the facade he created.

pride blinded him. 

he lost both clarity and purpose. 


“the truth is that perfect love requires perfect justice and perfect justice requires a balance of judgment and mercy. 

while mercy triumphs over judgment, judgment is mandatory on those who refuse divine mercy.

dan duval, bride ministries 

father god’s kindness leads us to repentance, to changing our minds.

if we say we belong to him, he will hold us accountable.

judgment begins in his house first.

we will know the truth that makes us free.

love disciplines.

after discipline comes restoration. 

because he is a good father.


to the man beneath the façade:

you are more.

father god knows the plans he has for you. they are good.

you were created for so much more.

remember who you are and to whom you belong.

his name is jesus.

yield your life to him. be born again.

realign your heart and your motives.

the old has gone, the new has come.

it is time.


“and they overcame him by the blood of the lamb and the word of their testimony..” revelation 12:11

the word of their testimony



  1. a formal written or spoken statement, especially one given in a court of law.

Similar: evidence, sworn statement, attestation, affidavit, statement, declaration


it was now a week since mom died. she was processing details, experiencing waves of grief, sudden bursts of tears. but there was more. there was her testimony. it was undeniably jesus.

years earlier, she had prayed for her mother to finish what she had been given to do in the earth. father god assured her then it would be so. 

their relationship was never easy. some was due to freemasonry curses, some due to other influences both natural and spiritual. 

as she grew in the truth of her relationship with father, jesus and holy spirit, she shared pearls with her mother. it often resulted in negative responses, but the truth of the testimonies could not be ignored or denied. every religious demon screamed when she shared, but she shared anyway. 

she and all of her household would be saved. period. it meant persecution, mocking and ridicule from the whole family over decades, even now as mom lay dying. 

but it could not, would not change the outcome. each of them would know his kindness, his goodness that would lead them to repentance. 


her last visit with mom was several months earlier. holy spirit showed her the end was coming soon. she picked up fried chicken along with a couple other favorite items and took them to the nursing home. 

over 3 hours or so, they watched a cooking show as they talked. then holy spirit nudged her. she paused, looking at her mother sitting in the recliner to her right. she took a breath, opened her mouth and the words came out. 

part of why I came today is to have this conversation with you. you know that we are not saved by infant baptism, right?” 

i know,” was mom’s quiet response. 

she continued. “do you remember that prayer that I gave you and lyle (her stepfather) before he died? when he was in the hospital, i came to visit. while i was next to his bed holding his hand, he got tears in his eyes and said, “i read your letter.” 

he was telling me he had asked jesus to be his lord and savior, that he had received forgiveness. he wanted me to know.”

mom was quiet for a moment, then said, “i saw angels come to get him when he died.”  it wasn’t the first time she’d shared that information. mom knew there was more than what she had been taught. she had heard the testimonies her oldest child shared. they were undeniable.

mom, would you like to pray with me while I’m here?” 

no.” the answer came quickly, too quickly. 

some religious demon was interfering. no surprise. it wasn’t the first time. 

instead of being offended, she treated it lightly. 

okay, but if you’re not in heaven when I get there, i’m going to be really pissed off. don’t mess this up,” she laughed. those words would not fall to the ground. 

here they were, months later, with very different circumstances. mom had made up her mind she was done living here. she stopped eating, stopped taking her meds. she quit. the decline was rapid, and without the meds, she had a stroke. it marked the beginning of the end of her life on earth. 

the condition of her body was shocking, yes, but her spirit and soul were very much alive and attentive. it was wednesday evening, just hours after the stroke occurred. her left side was gone, she could not swallow. responses were limited to squeezing hands for yes or no questions. 

she quickly decided to take thursday off work in addition to the already scheduled day off on friday. the next few days would be spent with siblings and nieces. 

she knew she needed precious time alone with her mother. she asked father god for it, and he made it happen. thursday morning, she had an hour or so alone. she sat with mom, one right hand clutching the other. as their hands gripped each other, holy spirit showed her he was restoring the bonding that never occurred when she was an infant. tears came. healing tears. 

later in the day, she leaned in and picked her mother’s fragile body up so her sister-in-law could adjust the pillow. as she laid her back down on the bed, she saw tears form in her mother’s left eye. was it from the hug? was it from getting human touch again after being without for so long? 

perhaps. she knew it was deep. and powerful. 


friday morning came. she arose early, prayed and worshiped at home and in the car on her way to the nursing home. holy spirit prompted her to play laura rhinehart’s song, “come to the well,” on repeat, to stay in that place. it was an invitation to drink in holy spirit, to be filled.

she arrived and walked to mom’s room, closing the door for privacy. turning the song on again, she sat holding her hand, praying in tongues over the woman who gave her life. 

she spoke with her, recounting memories, recounting hard things, things that sought to make them enemies of each other. the devil was still a liar. he would not have the last word here. 

tears flowed. then, as the song began again, she sang with it, singing over her mother lying before her. walls came down at the expansion of his love flowing into her spirit and soul. it was time. 

“mom, this is a simple thing. jesus already died for all your sin. it is finished. all you need to do is an exchange here, your heart for his. you receive what he did for you. it’s easy. and he wants it even more than you do. you are his daughter.”

she continued to pray even as heaving sobs came forth. the warfare was heavy in that place, but angels were present protecting them both. after some time, peace settled upon them and father god spoke. “her salvation is secure.” 

more tears flowed, tears of gratitude, tears of honor, tears of love, tears of grief. even tears of joy in such a very hard place. 

it was finished. 


this testimony would speak to many. 

many would come to jesus through it. 

testimony is born out of relationship, out of love, out of his kindness and goodness. 

the testimony had already spoken at work. it spoke at the grocery store. 

each person hearing the testimony was visibly moved. 

holy spirit showed her the sheer power it held, the weightiness of it. 

it would not return to father god void, but it would return to him in full manifestation of what it was sent to do. 

mom’s salvation would speak. 

and her whole household would be saved. 


testimony is evidence, a sworn affidavit. 

jesus is undeniable truth.

give your testimony wherever you can. 

it speaks.

copyright © 2022 the jane doe chronicles llc

elections and the church

the mayor’s office is a non-partisan position. what do you mean they want the candidates to announce their party affiliation? i’m not doing it.”

that was her first clue the whole thing was off. she refused to side with either party. this was out of order right out of the gate.

more than a decade had passed since that thinly veiled rigged election occurred.  

the hindsight and education she gleaned since then proved invaluable now, especially given the widespread voter and election fraud, manipulation and actual *selection* evils exposed since 2020. 

she lived in a blue state. she’d known for decades the elections were rigged. god-fearing people were not electing these criminals. 

or were they? it now appeared church leadership was synonymous with rino.

she had first-hand knowledge. did these people lay awake at night wondering if they would be found out? if not, they should have. 


after she took the voluntary corporate layoff, she knew things would change. she had given father god a major *yes* to what he was asking. the stakes got higher, and life got more interesting. 

why did holy spirit teach her evasive driving techniques? why did she carry everywhere she went? why did she feel like she was constantly being followed?

the red-pilling began in earnest along with key assignments designed to be set in motion at the right time. the people running things exist in every sector of society. what they and their predecessors put in motion decades earlier was causing great harm and destruction to humanity.

when she learned about the child sacrifice in tunnels under the city, she began to see various faces and professions. none would want their secrets revealed. and some of those people fell in the category of “those you trust the most.” church people. pastors. leaders.

who were these *church* people, really? how many of them were involved in child sacrifice in tunnels under the city? how many were masons? 

and why did they rig a mayor’s race?


the story began in fall of that year. she had the opportunity to have lunch with the current mayor about things she saw occurring in the future. it was not light-hearted conversation, but he wanted to know. they agreed to meet again to discuss roles / actions. that meeting never occurred.

after christmas, word got out that the much beloved mayor was stricken with a fast-spreading cancer in his back. an unusual place for cancer. was it the result of back-stabbing? witchcraft at a high level? 

dismayed at the news, she prayed for him as she headed to texas for a conference and several other appointments. 

upon her return, she settled back into a routine. one morning she went to the community center and greeted the receptionist at the desk, inquiring how the mayor was. 

he died two days ago,” was the woman’s somber response. she stood there in shocked silence. the receptionist went on to say a special election would be held to elect a new mayor, also providing details about the memorial service.

as she stood there trying to absorb the information, father god spoke: “i want you to run for mayor.” sometimes his asks were like a gut punch. she went upstairs and got on the treadmill thinking about the logistics of running for mayor. it seemed crazy. 

she was unemployed with no prospects. the severance package had run out. and the housing market had crashed leaving millions of people upside down on their mortgages. her finances were in a shambles and the townhouse was in foreclosure. it was the movie, “the big short,” in living color, a full-on nightmare. 

but he said to do it. so she did.  

amid all the required filings, meetings, and campaigning opportunities, she discovered the favorite republican candidate (for a non-partisan office) was a member of the megachurch she formerly attended. 

interesting. she knew church leadership would back him based on old boys’ clubs’ networks in that church body. nepotism and *relationships* opened doors of favor into the club.

father god had begun to show her some things and when it was time, he pulled her out of there. she knew that they knew she knew and that was a problem. she was not banned but she was blacklisted. 

therefore, her candidacy had no backing. or did it

out of the blue, she got a call from another pastor in the city. he headed up the largest lutheran church and wanted to take her to breakfast to learn about her platform and see how they could support her. 

naively thinking the best, she met him at perkins. they ordered their meals and he began to ask her questions. she answered them, detailing the things that father god had on his heart for the people of the city, things he wanted accomplished.

they had a great visit, shook hands, agreed to meet again. the city’s cable station was holding a live debate between the candidates in just a couple of weeks. she was looking forward to sharing the vision she has been given. 

what she did not know was that the wolf in sheep’s clothing recorded their entire conversation. he left with her platform, and he gave it to the rinos golden boy, someone who would do their bidding. 

two weeks later, it was time for the live candidates’ introduction and interview on the city’s cable channel. she was confident, poised, well dressed and ready to give people hope for their city. 

she greeted the other candidates as she walked into the studio. it was odd that the favored republican man could not look her in the eyes. 

he also had the first chair making him first on the list for questions from the moderator. she was second in line. the moderator began asking questions. 

she sat in stunned disbelief as the first candidate answered every question with her answers. every single one

when it was her turn to answer, she had nothing to offer, nothing to say. it never occurred to her to rat out the fake pastor that had recorded and stolen her answers on live television. she left the interview shaken with the realization of what they had done to her. 

the humiliation continued as the leftist newspaper and local political pundits shredded her. it went from bad to this. cannot. be. happening. 

she had been asked by her father in heaven to engage in this election. it had thrust her into a warfare she was not familiar with, and it appeared to be kicking her ass. 

election day was nerve-wracking and depressing. she received 53 votes out of a possible 50-60,000. this was ugly. not fully understanding what had occurred, she felt beaten. going out in public was almost worse now than when her head had gone through the windshield of a car. 

for 2-3 months, she kept asking father god why she didn’t win. wasn’t that the goal? it was not. it was the beginning of exposing things to her that would serve her well later. she kept pulling on him for an explanation until he gave her one:

“child, you were not supposed to win. you were only supposed to stand. and you did. this election exposed the churches and they have received my indictment against them.”


now, years later, things are being exposed. many question what’s behind and underneath much of the church leadership in this country. 

is it legitimate? is it godly? does it align with heaven’s agenda? how did it begin?

who funded the seminaries?

who decided what the curriculum (i.e. programming) would be?

how did one body of christ get split into a gazillion denominations?

what was obama’s clergy response team? 

why didn’t churches ever openly speak against abortion? 

why did some churches align with the plandemic and encourage their members to inject themselves with an unapproved substance with no ingredient label? 

why didn’t they call out the death assignments in the hospitals when their own members were being murdered with ventilators, malnutrition and copious amounts of remdesivir? 

and why is the money always more important than the people? 

because the 501c3 status is driven by the illuminati.

let every hidden work of darkness in every church in america be revealed and rooted out. let every enemy of god be exposed, shamed and shredded by the razor of the lord. 

for it is the time [destined] for judgment to begin with the household of god; and if it begins with us, what will the outcome be for those who do not respect or believe or obey the gospel of god?

1 peter 4:17

copyright © 2022 the jane doe chronicles llc

“this is a work of fiction. any names or characters, businesses or places, events or incidents, are fictitious. any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.”



an agreement is a manifestation of mutual assent by two or more persons to one another. it is a meeting of the minds in a common intention and is made through offer and acceptance. an agreement can be shown from words, conduct, and in some cases, even silence.

wait. what?

silence. an agreement can be shown from words, conduct, and in some caseseven silence


it was nearly time for benefits enrollment. an outside agent that partnered with the company was coming to present additional offerings to the basic health and dental policies. 

she was not only tense about having to meet with this person, she was downright hostile. and not entirely certain as to all the reasons why. 

yes, the entire system was corrupt. rockefeller money founded and funded the medical schools, either killing or putting out of business every doctor that treated for true healing. 

the insurance industry was a sham, too. what was originally intended to cover only catastrophic illness had morphed into coverage with a subsequent office visit or urgent care for even a minor cut or sneeze. society had become dependent on the system. 

few knew how to care for themselves, either with nutrition or natural remedies that were far superior to the witchcraft-laced prescriptions pushed by doctors who were compromised by big pharma. “you won’t have to stay on this prescription forever..” right. 

do no harm,” had little to no meaning in the vast majority of clinics and hospitals. the machine was now based on money and the love of it. 

doctors and practitioners who chose to live and practice by the “do no harm” directive were the minority. they risked everything by rebelling against the system.

one evil hand fed the other. on and on and on. so it has gone for decades. why was there a pharmacy on every corner? why the push for the annual checkups? 

if false positives were a known fact for the covid plandemic, how many other false positives were given to unsuspecting patients to kill them only later with deadly petroleum-based pharmaceuticals? 


she met the insurance representative in the small conference room. her company was offering five additional products to fill in gaps around the standard converages. 

the woman commented how she and her husband were born again christians. conversation ensued. she started to speak truth, unable to conceal her anger for this rigged system. the woman was taken aback not expecting the facts that were coming out about the captured operation that insurance was, that the medical system was, that big pharma was. the conviction had to be unreal. 

and the word agreement came out. as believers, what were we collectively agreeing with to our own destruction?

what was hidden in plain sight was now exposed right there on the table in the form of a marketing brochure.


agreement. what had she agreed with decades earlier that had opened a door to destruction? the movie reel played in her head as she studied the marketing brochure for the accident insurance policy. 

suddenly, it was clear. going back in time, she recalled the neighbor lady coming to the farm to sell them an accident policy. it was simple. you were paid based on the severity of the calamity you suffered. 

it was a cheap policy, manageable in the monthly budget. they were not married yet. her fiancé had no health coverage either. it seemed like the right thing to do at the time. 

photo credit: pixabay

yet, agreement with that policy, that ungodly source of provision, was also a silent agreement with catastrophe. not two months after the policy went into effect, he fell twenty feet from scaffolding that collapsed. his right hip and femur were shattered. 

the enemy comes to steal, kill and destroy. 

it is often done through silent agreement, by ignorance of what the agreement is actually legally binding one to. 

she took the brochures home to intentionally thrown them in the dust bin, making an outward show that she would never agree to those policies. those doors would not be opened again.


what a reveal. more exposure of the enemy. 

it was time to ask father god, jesus and holy spirit the hard question:

what else am i in agreement with that is allowing the enemy to steal, kill and destroy?” 

 god’s people no longer have to perish for lack of knowledge. 

it is a choice. 

do the work. 

search every matter out. 

you will know the truth and it will make you free. 

copyright  © 2022 the jane doe chronicles llc

like enoch had

she spent mother’s day alone, but not really.

a week earlier, she’d needed a road trip and her son’s home was the destination. the car was her prayer closet. she needed that space and some miles alone with holy spirit. 

on the way, she stopped at the grocery store and bought organic lettuce and uncured summer sausage, some for her and some for her son. when she arrived, she knew it was only a quick visit. he was busy working on four-wheelers and had made it clear he did not have time for conversation. 

he was surprised at the food gifts and thanked her. hoping for time together, she reminded him the next sunday was mother’s day. his expression was a mixture of ‘oh, shit’ and ‘i’m not changing my plans.’ he had a baby shower to attend that day. 

as she locked eyes with him, the words were right there, just waiting to be spoken. she wanted to gently explain to her son that if he wanted a wife, he best learn to treat his mother honorably. if he didn’t make space for momma, he was not making space for a wife.

instead, she looked at him with a smile, caught the words before they left her mouth, and told him she would share those thoughts another time. timing really is everything. and he knew without her saying a word. he had to make different choices for the outcomes he wanted. she would continue to pray for him. 

back to mother’s day. the day had been peaceful and quiet. she’s done a few things around the house and picked up some groceries. it was late afternoon. the weather was cool, great for walking. she’d had early dinner and felt restless. “father, can I go for a walk?” he answered immediately, “yes, you can.” hmm. there was a plan. 

she dressed and headed out around the lake. when she was about two thirds of the way around, she saw a large bird flying into the the area, then soaring over the water. was it a hawk or an eagle? she looked for the white head on the bird while it scanned the water for fish. its’ prey targeted, the raptor swooped down and snatched it out of the water. it flew closer to her and she saw it was an eagle, just a young one whose head wasn’t white yet. father was speaking to her, affirming her. much of their communication was silent; it was a knowing.

she continued around the lake, thankful for that encounter. as she approached her building, she stopped to listen to a bird sing in a bush. out of the blue, she thought of enoch and looked up. “you know, sometimes i wish you’d just jack me out of here like you did enoch.” to her surprise, enoch appeared on her left and father spoke. “enoch will be your guide this next leg of the journey.” she said, “okay.” what else was there to say? this was a huge honor. and an old request granted..

the backstory begins here:

time travel back to the early 2000’s, say 2003, to the time she was learning to walk with father, jesus and holy spirit. 

she had pressed in until she had her heavenly prayer language, speaking in other tongues. prayer was important, especially tongues. the enemy cannot translate it. it’s a highly effective weapon.

several times a week, she would drive into the small town nearby to walk the high school track to pray and worship. no doubt the neighbors heard the tongues and her singing at the top of her voice. 

on this particular saturday morning, she was praying and singing ‘irresistible,’ by darlene zschech. it was the same song she’d sung out over the hills of samaria only months earlier in israel. 

during that period of time, enoch was the topic of study. she was fascinated by him, his knowledge, the relationship and intimacy he and father god shared. as she walked that humid morning, she came around the west side of the track and stopped. she looked up and took a breath. with both confidence and trepidation, she told her father what she wanted. 

i want a walk with you like enoch had.”  the gravity of her request immediately shifted the atmosphere of the cosmos. as she awaited his response, she heard the holy hush. the weightiness of her words was palpable.

all activity ceased. angels, the cloud of witnesses and every other occupant of heaven peered toward the earth to see who would dare make such an ask.

she continued to wait, her feet stuck in place on the asphalt track. finally, he answered her, his voice tender and gentle: “that will take a lifetime to walk out, child.”


the request she made decades earlier was not forgotten.

enoch is her guide for this leg of the journey.

copyright © jane doe productions llc may 2022

p.s. thank you for encouraging me to get back to the keyboard. heaven sent you.

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 effing 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 similar mindsets, a woman walked up on them from the other direction. no, you can’t make this up, and yes, it 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 for 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 o’savin’s new book, “kid by the side of the road,” would be very useful.

Artwork credit: Chris Taylor/SeraphimChris

copyright 2020 © 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.


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