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.

closing the door

memories stirred in her heart like a wooden spoon stirring ingredients together in a mixing bowl.

there was the rainbow at beacon rock. plans for the little restaurant in the gorge. dreams of a home on the coast.

these were not small things. his was intense, passionate. he wanted to rebuild his life. he didn’t want to do it alone. but there were character issues. and pride. it caused him to stumble. and it kept him from yielding to holy spirit, jesus and papa.

she’d seen it often. when pride rose up in him, darkness would cover his face. the tenderness she loved in him was hidden. joy was crushed in anger and unforgiveness.

nearly a year passed since any communication occurred between them. and it was her doing the reaching out. again. he’d gone dark after helping her with the car battery at the airport after thanksgiving. christmas came and went without a word.

she texted him on new year’s day, wished him well. he responded back, but even his texting voice felt small. he wasn’t in a good place, maybe drunk.

now, on the eve of another christmas, memories resurfaced. she smiled, recalling times, places, conversations. his daughter. his family. aunt louise and uncle charlie.

she texted him again, fondly recalling a few details that would make him smile if she wasn’t blocked on his phone. she visited several of his family’s facebook pages, wondering out loud if he’d been home to visit them yet. it was fifteen years now since he’d seen them.

she recalled words spoken over their lives. his momma would be a momma to her. his daughter would be her daughter, just like she’d given birth to her. aunt louise had taken her under her wing, always grateful for how she’d brought him back into communication with the family.

when it got too painful to hold on, she quietly unfriended his momma. she contacted the half-brother and aunt louise to tell them she needed to move on. they wished her well. the half-brother invited her to visit him and his wife if she was ever in alabama. it hadn’t taken long to develop bonds with them.

on a whim, she reached out to aunt louise on messenger, not knowing if she’d even see her message since they were no longer connected. why was all of this flooding back into the forefront?

praying, she got into her weekly epsom salt bath. sitting in silence, papa surprised her with a question. “would you take him back if he was all cleaned up?” her head snapped as she looked up to him. “first of all, you can please confirm this is you. i’m pretty vulnerable right now. secondly, yes, i might, but with conditions.”

the conditions were clear: he needed to be walking closely with papa, jesus and holy spirit. and he would need to come out of agreement with every spirit that does not serve jesus. those two qualifiers covered a lot of ground.

something deeper was working. she wasn’t clear on what it was. more prayer, more healing in the salty, lavender water. thirty minutes later, she was on the living room floor stretching. then cleansing her gateways. this was an important process. forgive, cleanse, release. release is equated with liberty.

late afternoon arrived and she began cooking for the week. chicken thighs fried on the stove, rice cooked in the dutch oven. when the phone rang, she was startled, but not as much as she was when she saw the location of the caller: new orleans. who and why?

she answered. “hello?” “hi ______!” i see you wanted to talk with me. it was aunt louise. calling her. from new orleans. what??? something deeper was working here.

she and uncle charlie were well. the big surprise and subsequent shock came shortly thereafter. he’d been home to visit. finally. he’d been there in october, just a few weeks ago. that was the big surprise. then came the shock.

he hadn’t gone alone. he went with a woman. not just a girlfriend. a fiancé. her head and heart reeled at the same time, shock waves tearing through her senses. aunt louise said something about them being forever grateful for bringing him back to them..somehow, the call ended abruptly.

devastation and betrayal set in. that was her trip to make with him, her family to meet. the new woman had taken credit for getting him there. truth spoke loudly over the top of the lie. she knew well the prophetic words she’d spoken over him two years earlier that propelled him forward to reconciliation with his family.

the truth could not be taken from her. his betrayal could not be ignored, either. he’d chosen not to yield, not to say, ‘yes,’ to papa, jesus and holy spirit. he didn’t want to do the work. it was easier to find someone else who didn’t require so much of him, someone who would be satisfied with mediocre.

it took two weeks to process all of it again. hashing over all the prophetic words, all the promises, all the conversations..and all the character flaws. left unchecked, the character flaws became massive stumbling blocks. indeed, they’d made the foundation of their relationship unstable.

his actions consistently sowed distrust. there was nothing solid to build on. it was unsustainable, shaky ground. she knew his history. if he was challenged to be more, he threw a tantrum. and if he didn’t get his way, he moved on to someone else.

two weeks later, she made a different decision. looking up, she spoke decisively. “i don’t want him back. if he was yielded to you, he would have come back for me. he did not. so i’m closing the door. you close it, too.”

she took back the key and the dream. papa had already breathed new life and purpose into her. it happened yesterday in the salty bath laced with lavender and into the future oils. he’d taken her heart into his large, gentle hands and breathed new life into it. it was beating strong again.

she held the key in her left hand, the side her heart lived in. someone was coming. he would be worthy of her heart, the key and the dream.

Key, Heart, Daisy, Love, Wood, Valentine'S Day, Symbol — photo credit: pixabay

destiny beckoned as compromise lost its power and voice.

reunion

they’d last seen each other almost six months earlier. it ended abruptly when she decided not to listen to his tasmanian devil fit on the phone after confronting him on bad behavior.

as he spewed angry words across the airwaves, her response was simple and calm. “i am not having this conversation with you tonight.” she pressed the red button on her phone, disconnecting the call. kindness with boundaries. he does not have permission to speak to her this way. no.

the result of the boundary was an immediate facebook unfriend, a block on the phone and an email requesting she never call him again. it’s what people do when the mirror is placed before them. it was also a sign he was not worthy of her heart yet. sigh.

now here they were, giving it a go again. she was excited and wary. the phone call had gone well. now she waited for the text so she knew where to meet him.

they met at a new place, not one of their old favorites

he asked her to meet him at a new place. it was new to her, not to him, but new to them together – appropriate for a new beginning. arriving first, she made her way straight to the ladies room after a brief survey of the establishment.

she took a minute to get her bearings. and breathe. deep breath in, exhale slowly. rinse and repeat.

she checked her lipstick in the mirror, observing the glow on her face. there was a tenderness and light in her features that had been missing for several months. it returned the moment she heard his voice. love does that.

father, jesus and holy spirit were as excited as she was. realizing this was a new day, she asked holy spirit to order their conversation. shaking off any anxiety, she walked back into the bar area and settled at a table near the door. yikes. it was dark in this place. the smell of marijuana wafted in from the patio. it didn’t stimulate her appetite in the least. it wasn’t her favorite, never had been.

when he came in, he’d see her straight off. and he did. he walked in, saw her there, pulled back the chair to reach her and put his arms around her neck in greeting. my god, what a long time it had been since she felt his embrace. he sat down. they looked at each other. he asked her something she didn’t hear. she was so caught up in just looking at him she never heard the words.

“excuse me, i’m sorry. what did you say?” it was almost funny. well, no, it was funny. was she fifteen again? maybe. there wasn’t much that could render her speechless. she let him begin with the catching up so she could just look at him.

he was as beautiful as ever. dear lord. it wasn’t just his physical appearance. he was freer, glowing from the inside out, light in his eyes. his joy had returned. part of that joy was the call he got from her only a few hours earlier.

they glanced at menus. he was a regular here, so he made a couple of recommendations. “order whatever you like.” she ordered something, not really caring what it was. he went up to the bar, placing their order for food and drinks.

he was nervous, though, like a cat on a hot tin roof. she let him begin catching up on his life first. he was going to counseling, paying someone to listen to him vent. that was good. he also commented he’d tried dating, but it was a disaster. she felt some relief with a question mark following. why did he share this? this revelation would prove to be a clue later. she filed it away. guilty people always tell on themselves. they can’t help when it when truth is staring them in the face.

they finished their food while keeping the conversation moving. she studied him closely. he hadn’t been home to see his family yet. another item to file. she was in contact with his aunt/godmother, a lovely woman who prayed for her nephew consistently. she took her role of godmother seriously.

he knew the two of them spoke on messenger, asking what they talked about. she lightly danced around revealing their conversations. there was no need to show her hand except to encourage him to go home to visit. his parents and the rest of his family weren’t getting any younger. they wanted to see him before moving to heaven. it was that simple.

his response indicated he wasn’t ready for that trip yet. he ordered another beer. she asked how he was going to drive home. he wasn’t. an uber driver had dropped him there and uber driver would collect him and take him home. this had become a regular routine. he thought himself clever. it was a good choice for keeping his driver’s license, not so good for other obvious reasons.

it was late now and she had to work the next day, friday. he walked her down the street to her car. he hugged her goodbye, embracing her for a very long time, longer than he ever had before.

she got in her car and watched him walk back to the bar with unease and a heavy heart.

it still wasn’t time.

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.

laundry-413688_960_720 — 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.

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???

possibilities, potential and promise

it was 5 am saturday morning. she was wide awake. sleeping in wasn’t happening today. another roller coaster week in her never a dull moment life was over. it was time to rest and reflect, laugh again.

it was a melting pot of warfare, sleepless nights, tears, passionate conversations with bad endings. demons swearing at her. nice. what was that about being blessed when you’re persecuted and people talk ugly to you? she shook her head and laughed. the devil only has a hissy fit when you’re doing something right. well then.

trust the process

“trust the process,” her friend told her. when she heard it, she knew it came right from papa god’s heart. trust the process. indeed. she’d asked papa for his best for her.

she’d seen him through his papa’s eyes for some time now. she saw him in truth, in perfection, as a beloved son even when he wasn’t fully awake to this reality.

he’d had brilliant prophetic words spoken over him, words of promise, hope and a future. he saw vignettes of unlimited possibilities and potential, the ways papa god wanted to bless him as his son. he saw how his gifts and talents could be brought to life.

sprout-933892_960_720 — *photo credit: pixaby*

most importantly, he was presented with the beautiful gift of a wife, a full partner he could walk with in this life. would he step into his destiny? would he come back for her?

this was a major life decision. in returning to her, he’d be turning his face fully back to papa god. it meant walking arm in arm with him in unity. it meant stepping into sonship.

it meant radical change in direction, a homecoming worth celebrating loudly. the cloud of witnesses perched on the edge of their seats wondering how this would play out. would he choose well? would he be bold and courageous? yes, the stakes were high but the reward was great.

she’d prayed intently over him and his family for cleansing and restoration in their blood lines. for all the enemy stole to be returned to them 7-fold.

weeks turned to months, months grew to years. she wept over him, took communion over him, visioning life with him. she determined to cooperate fully with papa god, willing him to have every opportunity to make the best choice for his future and future generations.

she prayed for wisdom and revelation that the eyes of his understanding would be open. she prayed for his heart to be one with father god’s heart again. she called to his spirit to rise up and lead his soul, declaring his spirit would only be led by holy spirit.

faithful friends stood with her and prayed. in all of it she kept telling papa god she wanted his best.

she gave him wide margins to work things out on his own. she spoke when holy spirit prompted her – and sometimes when silence was the better option. grace covered her.

unconditional love often gets an unexpected response

wisdom dictated several things she would not compromise. those things had earned her unfriending, blocking and ‘goodbye.’ unconditional love often gets an unexpected response.

jesus chimed in on her thoughts, showing her some of his daily experience. he’s telling us, “i love you, i’m here for you, not leaving you. ever.” his compassion rises, watching us trying to stitch up our gaping wounds. we lay there bleeding, still holding up the hand, saying, “i’m good here. get the hell away from me.”

see how we are

see how we are. still, he doesn’t leave. he waits until we give in, showing him our wounds, allowing him to love and heal us. she remembered her conversation with jesus, drowning in her own lake of mess. “i am so freaking broken. what do you want with me??”

she could see it wasn’t him rejecting her. it was a combination of pain, fear and angst speaking, a realization that the old ways of dodging brokenness weren’t working.

she didn’t leave, either. she loved him hard, praying for him when she would have rather kicked his backside. love never fails, never gives up. it gets up in the morning to love another day, to love the hell away.

now, she waited, trusting the process, waiting on the promise.

the best man is coming for her.

the girl who wasn’t clumsy

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

scrambled-eggs-5865_960_720 — *photo credit: pixabay*

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

turn around, look

the weeks apart turned into months. truth be told, it was not easy. standing and believing took on new meaning. her faith grew exponentially in the process.

day by day, she took communion, prayed and declared over them and their children, mixed lot that they were. when she prayed, she saw things and then she would speak them out. in one vignette, she saw him with his head resting on father god’s chest, hearing the heartbeat of the one who made him.

in another, she saw father god building a new bridge between him and one of his children. they approached from opposite ends of the bridge, getting closer to each other every day. in the moment they met in the middle, they entered into a brand new beginning, one that would make up for the lost years.

she knew he was getting closer. father gave her dreams to encourage her to keep doing what she was doing. he was so close, she could feel it. when the breakthrough began, she would see him coming to the house to get her, standing at the front door ringing the doorbell.

other times, she would see him at her work. memories of them working in the conference room together would flood back to her mind. they were precious, sweet and painful at the same time. their foundation together had been good, but now it would be strong, solid, immoveable. father said so.

several friends knew this road they were walking out. their prayers were impactful, clear, declarative, filled with power and love. praying together, they moved things that had blocked and hindered, clearing a path for his healing, freedom, future and calling.

on the day she cut a cord of control and witchcraft, one friend observed it would take him a few days to get his bearings. this action was critical. the ties that held him captive held him no more. now, he was able to move freely like never before.

and then, days later, father let her see him walking free. on a thursday night after work, she headed to the pool for a swim. it was the same pool where they’d met a year earlier. it was the same park they walked and talked around many times.

the sighting

she was parked on the street sitting in the car talking to another friend. their conversation went all over the place, rabbit tracks in every direction. they were still getting to know each other. there was a lot of ground to cover – and not. conversations were rarely short and this was no exception. she opened the car windows to keep from melting from the heat. she rolled down the passenger window and looked to her left. what she saw stopped her talking in mid-sentence.

there he was, walking on the path. she looked again, hard. yes, it was him. “oh, my god, he’s here, ****’* here!!! he’s about twenty feet away from me walking on the path around the park. what do i do?!?!”

‘”what is the lord saying to you to do?” “i don’t know! my heart is beating so hard i can’t think.” she stopped talking to listen, to feel and know what to do. then it was easy.

“i’m not doing anything. i’m not going after him. he still has to come for me when he’s ready. i just get to see him.” crying, she continued, “he looks good. he’s standing taller. and his gait seems more purposeful, like he’s freer and sorting things out.”

she waited to see if he went into the pool building. he did not. he kept walking. “okay, he’s out of sight now. i’ve got to get in the building while he’s on the other side of the park.” they postponed their remaining conversation until later.

she went on to swim. what was normally relaxing was anything but after the excitement of the ‘sighting.’ she kept an eye on the men’s changing room to see if he’d walk through the door.

when later came and their conversation resumed, both women agreed how special it was for father to let her see him. she knew a few more things now, with certainty: he was healing. he was free. he was stronger. and he would be coming for her soon.

the next morning, another friend messaged her. she asked if something had happened with him due to her post the night before: “tears of joy, peace, contentment, high expectations and a pint of organic vanilla ice cream drowning in chocolate sauce. it was a grand day. ♥”

this friend had surmised correctly, and she had some encouragement to bring, as well. she offered what father showed her:

“it’s not a long road between you two,” father says. “turn around, look.” she continued. “i see things in pictures mostly. so i saw the path being swept, and you a short distance away waiting. father is saying turn around and look. maybe an encouragement to see what father is doing.”

yes, it was an encouragement. yes, yes, yes! she mulled over the words again. “it’s not a long road between you two. father says, “turn around, look.”

she turned around to look.

psalm 37:4 the voice

take great joy in the eternal!
his gifts are coming, and they are all your heart desires!

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.

Jesus loves me with music — *photo credit: pixabay*

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

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.

equipment-2047314_960_720 — *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.

thejanedoechroniclesdotcom

Dio (God) is forte (strong) and presente (present) in every pasticcio (mess)

Tag: family