coffee and honor

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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photo credit: pixabay

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

it was a great day in the kingdom.

copyright 2019 © jane doe productions llc

 

 

 

 

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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

who was grandma?

it should have been easy. it was not. after getting her momma reconnected with her stepsisters, she also re-engaged with them in the hopes of learning more about grandma.

she talked with the oldest of momma’s stepsisters, then with the youngest. it was great to visit and talk with them. yes, it was. but it did not provide any of the answers to her questions.

what was grandma like?

what was her personality? what were her hobbies? did she like music? horses? dogs or cats or both? did she bake or cook?

no one could really say. grandma had been ill and in hospital often. she was there more than she was home. her daughters didn’t really know her, either. there were a few photos of her left. she asked for copies to be sent to her but they never came.

was there any family resemblance?

did momma look like grandma? did she look like grandma? hmmm. another idea came to her. would it be possible to see grandma in the cloud of witnesses? could she, would she make herself known? could she share more about her life in a visitation? maybe. it was worth asking daddy god about.

he did have one answer for her. he told her one morning on her commute to work. in a brilliant movie reel playing in her mind, so many things became clear.

 

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photo credit: pixabay

 

“your grandmother was a worshipper. she loved to sing.”

(copyright © 2017 jane doe productions)

finishing grandma’s work

the mystery of this place began when she was small. once the beckoning began, it never really left. indeed, it grew over time as more clues were given to her. it was akin to following bread crumbs. when ‘birds’ got to them (aka distractions) before she did, the trail would grow cold.

the first trip to the enchanted land was to celebrate a wedding. their little family got in the car for a two week long vacation, nearly unheard of for farmers in the midwest. you simply did not leave your cows in someone else’s hands for that long. but here they were, taking a break from milking cows and slopping hogs. the adventure took them across the country to hillsboro, oregon.

the memories were foggy. she was in second grade at the time. momma’s momma had died, and the relatives on this side of the family were dwindling. it quickly became important for momma to meet her momma’s surviving relatives. there were two uncles. this visit would introduce them to uncle dwight, married to aunt joan who had three daughters from her first marriage. her oldest daughter was getting married. it was hard not to get it all confused.

the ride across the country was almost tortuous for her and her brother. neither of them fared so well in the back seat of the chevy malibu. there were a lot of stops to manage car sickness, especially over high mountain passes. daddy was angry and frustrated, often getting sick himself just because the kids were. momma had the baby in the front seat with her and daddy, too.

after endless miles, they got into a big city with bridges everywhere. she vividly remembered the double-decker bridge with police sirens and lights going all around them. it was a lot for farm kids to take in. they got to uncle dwight’s house, stayed a few days and went to a wedding. she didn’t remember much else. the place stayed with her, though.

oregon came back into focus via a long-distance relationship years later. the fascination grew like wild ivy. it seemed father god was using the relationship to draw her. it worked. she made plans to visit her friend and looked into a job transfer at the same time.

she went west for a short visit and was completely enthralled. this place was like narnia in every good way – flora, fauna, climate, mountains, ocean. it was all there. it was alive and it called her name.

as she dreamed of moving and transferring her job, a roadblock appeared in the form of an angry boss who wouldn’t approve the transfer. complications, delays, frustration came again. more time passed.

then that book came out, the one that made everyone crazy. it was called, “the shack.” a friend sent her a copy in the mail. when she got it, she opened it up and began to read. by 2 am, she’d read through it twice and within 24 hours, she’d been through it three times, laughing, crying, sobbing. it wrecked her through and through.

not only was papa god doing things in her heart, he was also calling her home, back to her roots. this time, there was no doubt. she had to go. the relationship had fallen apart almost two years earlier after his sister had died from breast cancer. it had devastated him.

she decided to check in on him, and they picked up right where they left off. they talked on the phone every day, sometimes for hours. it was good until she told him she was coming for a visit. he wasn’t ready, afraid of loving again, but he didn’t know how to say it. he stopped answering her calls. he was on the run.

she bought the one-way ticket anyway, she had marching orders. when he didn’t show up at the train station, it wasn’t a surprise. inconvenient, yes, but not impossible. it was a rocky beginning to a new life, but she kept moving forward even in the uncertainty.

after nine months of scraping by, she got a full-time job. her dialog with papa god shifted to asking more focused questions that began with ‘why’ and ‘what.’ “why am i here? what am i doing?” those were the big ones, the questions that burned in her.

one day, she asked the question again. keep asking, right? this time, she clearly heard the response from papa god. “you’re here in part to complete the assignment given to your grandmother.” what?? she wrinkled her brow. sometimes she wished he would just give the answer clearly, right up front. really.

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photo credit: pixabay

he enjoyed the process of walking her through these opportunities for delight while she wanted to stomp her feet in frustration. his answer only led to another question. “what does that mean?” she asked herself.  no one knew much about momma’s momma, her grandma. this woman’s life was like a mist. there wasn’t much to grab onto.

the digging began again, with more intensity. it meant more conversations with momma. and there was more reconnaissance to do. over the years, momma and her stepsisters got disconnected again. they didn’t know she’d been sick, had part of one leg amputated and was now living in a nursing home.

for the past few years, momma had talked about getting in touch with them but never pursued it. she and momma talked about it again over the phone on a lunch break. it was clear that momma wanted to talk to her stepsisters again, problem was she didn’t have contact information for them anymore. she didn’t, no, but the internet did.

she almost ran back to the office to get on her computer. in twenty minutes, she tracked down an address and phone number for the oldest stepsister in kansas city. she ran off to the conference room and made the call. she knew it was the right number when she recognized the voice on the other end. they talked for a little while to get caught up. she gave the stepsister momma’s number so they could reconnect.

there, that piece was done. now it would be easy to get the answers she needed about the grandma she’d never met met. what were her hobbies? her likes? her dislikes? had she hiked mount hood? did she like to go to the coast? what made her laugh and cry?

the most important question loomed larger than all the others. what was grandma assigned to do in the earth that she did not finish?

it was a grand mystery.

(copyright © 2017 jane doe productions)

 

 

 

grief, healing and rest

life changed after the big move.

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photo credit: jane doe

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

she now lived with a younger married couple.

she recalled meeting them, visiting for the first time. she heard holy spirit say, ‘family,’ softly to her. it was how she knew she belonged with them. it was confirmation.

the woman became a sister and a daughter. the man became a son, a brother, a protector. she had missed growing up with her siblings. these relationships provided restoration and fulfillment of those longings and desires.

papa. he was good to her again. over and over. always. forever.

she had long talks with papa about him after the big move. in the first conversation, he asked her to wait for him one year. he gave her choices and options. they reasoned together. she agreed to wait one year.

two months later, papa spoke again on the same topic.

she was at her desk when she heard his voice.

“i am no longer asking you to wait for him.

you have waited long enough.

i want you to move forward. 

i will restore.”

his words stunned her as she sat up straight.

she took a breath and a minute to process his words.

his voice was strong, tender, purposeful, fatherly.

his direction came as a surprise. but papa knew the end from the beginning.

the cord had been cut.

the processing began soon afterward. grief, anger, shock, betrayal, sorrow.

sometimes the deep longing to hold his hand again would unravel her.

she blessed him. she prayed for him when he came to mind.

papa had movies for her to watch. they helped her process emotions, to see beyond, to see glimpses of what he would do for her.

he encouraged her, sometimes saying, “great is your reward, child.”

she believed him. she had been faithful and obedient.

she began to sleep again. she learned to breathe again.

she soaked in worship music and healing frequencies at night as she slept.

sweet praise and rest brought healing.

jesus beckoned her to the beach. it was time to meet again. she went.

the touch of the sand under her feet brought more healing and balance to her body.

she worshipped as she walked, singing into the wind at the top of her lungs.

then he was there. suddenly. he’s like that. suddenly. it took her breath away.

the lion spoke.

“it was harder for you to let go because you didn’t really trust that i loved him, that i had him. but i want you to know this: i love my son more than you love your husband.

you can trust this. you can open your hands all the way and release him to me.”

she looked up in the sky. waves washed over her feet. the sand was cool.

She opened her hands and spoke the words out loud. she let him go.

then she drew an imaginary line in front of her.

with great joy and intentionality, she stepped over it.

there would be no more sorrow over what was, over what might have been.

her bright future beckoned.

she answered.

‘yes, lord.’

(copyright 2016 jane doe)

 

progression and obedience

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photo credit: jane doe

another year passed. it was time to move again.

she did not ask about reuniting this time.

she moved in with a lovely, gentle woman in a narnia house in a new neighborhood.

many things remained the same. some things grew worse.

he was not truthful in much. he told her what he thought she wanted to hear.

she knew that he knew that she knew. he lied anyway.

she knew he didn’t go see the former lady friend to simply visit.

the lady at the park was likely a new source of sympathy. or money.

they went to a meeting where another man of god told of being raised from the dead.

the man looked into his eyes for a long time.

“it’s not too late for you,” he said. he did not respond.

she went to the local pool one weekend.

she finished a lap and rested on the edge of the pool.

she was so tired. no one could see she was crying in the water.

papa god began to speak.

“it is true that you would be further along in your relationship if he had made better choices. you have done all that i have asked you to do and more.

i need you to keep moving forward. your destiny depends on it.”

she sighed. it was true. all of it. she agreed.

she did not know what that looked like. she just said, ‘yes.’

things grew progressively worse with him. different than before. tenuous and tense.

soon, there was another conversation with papa god another weekend afternoon.

he was more serious this time. there was deep concern in his voice. concern for her.

“he can no longer have access to you until he is submitted to me. his negativity is killing you.”

he was right. her whole body was inflamed. her strength was depleted.

it would take several months to walk this out. but she did.

when the next move came, it was different than the others.

this move was thirty miles away.

he had no license, no car. there was no regular bus service.

he had no access.

this move brought her rest. she began to sleep at night. she began to heal.

she began to move forward into her destiny as papa god had promised.

there was progression through obedience.

it was a good move.

(copyright 2016 jane doe)