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.

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photo credit: pixaby

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

unconditional love often gets an unexpected response

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

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

see how we are

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

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

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

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

the best man is coming for her.

copyright jane doe productions © 2018

 

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the white orchid

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

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photo credit: pixabay

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

new life was springing up all over this plant.

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

Shirley Temple
photo credit: tv guide

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

copyright jane doe productions © 2018

bittersweet beacon rock

it was a road trip day with intent. after an hour or so of navigating the winding road through the wild, untamed columbia river gorge, she arrived at the restaurant.

although he wasn’t with her, she felt his presence there. this was a place of promise and destiny for them. she did what she would’ve done if he’d been there: she mingled with the staff and discussed damage to the building by winter storm activity.

after a bit, she ordered lunch and watched customers file in for late breakfast and/or lunch. it quickly got busy and she did what came naturally, jumping in to hostess and help. the owner’s wife arrived and they visited, discussing tentative plans for the summer season. it was good she’d come today.

leaving the restaurant, she walked around the other properties that were linked to destiny. the wind blew hard and cold as it always did in the gorge. she was glad she’d dressed for it.

twenty minutes later, she turned into beacon rock state park. she paid the daily fee and headed out on the trail. light rain fell as she walked. she stopped as she recognized the place where father had dropped the rainbow in front of them just a few weeks earlier.

he began to speak. “this is a place of promise and fulfillment. stand on my word. stand on my promises. i never fail. ”

she took hold of those words and dictated them into her phone. they were rock solid when everything around her was shaking.

then she spoke to him, even though he wasn’t there. “we’ve walked this path together twice. today i walk it alone, but father said the next time i walk it we’ll be together again.”

 

Beacon Picnic table
photo credit: jane doe

 

she kept walking and as she did, the pain in her heart intensified. shaking her head, she asked father, “why is this so hard?” his answer surprised her. “you chose to take a stand, and in that, you upgraded your own vision of yourself.”

she walked for a while then began singing along to adam levine singing ‘lost stars.’ she felt the absence of his arm linked through hers and the tears came quickly. the lyrics were more poignant than usual.

‘God tell us the reason youth is wasted on the young,
it’s hunting season and the lambs are on the run, searching for meaning…’

father continued. “you have chosen to upgrade your level of relationship by requiring full partnership and equal leadership. this will bring the balance you desire and what you both need to walk in and manage what i have for you.

an upgraded relationship means giving up what you settled for in the past. it doesn’t mean you’re giving up on the person – it means they have to choose to come up higher to walk with you where you are.”

she listened, processing as she walked, sang and cried. upgrades are costly. old, stale ways have to be discarded for new effective methods of communicating, relating, showing mutual respect and honor. paying the price means we let go of false safety, comfort and security.

certain things require change. possessing promises is one of those things.

she changed the music over to the verve performing ‘bitter sweet symphony.’ this chorus fit the bill today, too.

‘i’m a million different people from one day to the next,
i can change, i can change, i can change, i can change.’

she put that song on repeat and listened to it all the way home. then she spoke to him in the spirit. “come up here. your leadership is necessary. we have to be in balance.”
she’d felt him so close to her all day. and everywhere she looked, she saw his pickup. wasn’t that always how it was?

she prayed as she drove. she saw the vision first, throngs of men standing at attention in the cloud of witnesses, then gave the direction out loud, “men in the cloud, pray for the men on the ground.”

what followed quickly shifted her view from her own circumstances to that of her country. she saw a great gigantic rug being shaken out across the country, shaking out the lethargy, shaking off the passivity, shaking loose the men so they’d be free to step back into their positions of leadership in family and in country.

when the men are strong, the families are strong.

(copyright © 2017 jane doe)

certain things require change

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photo credit: jane doe

she was late running her errand, which meant she’d be late picking him up. she called to let him know. and to ask if she could use the restroom when she got there.

some things never change. “you know, i knew you’d ask me that! the toilet handle broke this morning. you’d better stop someplace else to go first.” she howled in laughter. there was always something wrong with the toilet.

ten minutes later, she was there. responding to the car’s gentle honk, he walked out the apartment door, crossed the street and got in the passenger side of her car.

with twinkling eyes and a big grin on her face, she looked him over. he looked her over, too, with the same goofy expression and cocked head that had made her laugh so often before.

they were uncomfortable for no more than twenty seconds. then the chatter began as though they’d never been apart. in reality, it had been nine months.

a lot had changed in nine months. he still looked like a giant teddy bear, and felt like one, too. he’d had surgery on his leg and had most of the hardware removed. but there had been complications and he still needed healing.

she was continually amazed at all the times the enemy had tried to take him out but never succeeded. that was a testimony all on its own.

they took turns in the catching up until they got to the theatre. once inside, they debated on whether to purchase overpriced popcorn and candy. wisdom won, and they opted for a late lunch after watching, ‘the shack.’

he hadn’t seen it yet. this was her second viewing. she offered him a kleenex as the movie began. he declined her offer and took a hanky out of his back pocket instead. all right, then.

the similarities between his story and the main character’s were too many to count. neither of them attempted to gloss it over. it was the pain of the past that had destroyed what they’d attempted to build.

when she had a break from wiping her own tears away, she looked over at him occasionally to see how he was doing with it all. he was hard to read. she held his hand in the places she knew would be hard for him. some things never change.

then the poignant and profound quote came from papa’s lips as she spoke to mackenzie.

“when all you see is your pain, you lose sight of me.”

she looked over at him again. this time there was no subtly. this time she said, “this” with tears running down her face. he caught it.

they finished watching the movie in silence and walked out of the theatre quietly when it was over. bj’s bar and grill was the chosen location for late lunch. after ordering, more real conversation came.

some conversation unpacked the movie. it offered further explanation of what papa had available to him if he would simply agree that papa was especially fond of him. if he would shift, he could live an abundant life. no, it was not without pain, but he could live well-loved, and that made all the difference.

tears sprang back to her eyes when she said it, but he had to know. “i didn’t leave because i didn’t love you. i left because i was dying. you were so consumed with the pain of your past that you had nothing to give me.”

he answered her slowly. “i guess that’s true.” his own feelings of unworthiness had made him unable to receive, love and cherish the gift papa had given him in her. he believed the lies the enemy told him, without ever questioning their validity.

he took over the conversation with the experiences he’d had with papa since they’d last been together. he talked about how papa was working in his heart, but she heard some lying green mist in his words. self-pity was holding him back from going after a full-on relationship with papa. she heard it. what was at the root?

after lunch, they visited places they used to go together. wildlife was always a shared joy. they watched ducks, geese, an eagle, and an osprey. a sweet little bird sang a melody that sounded like twinkling stars.

as they walked along the path at the nature preserve, he mentioned how the guilt of a rescue worker dying while trying to save him still tore him apart sometimes.

she stopped in her tracks. this was a piece of the puzzle. “wait. this is why your leg is not fully healed. you are judging yourself guilty for what happened to that man, when in fact you had nothing to do with it.”

“yeah, you’re right. it wasn’t my fault. but it really doesn’t bother me anymore.”

“you just said it still tears you up sometimes, so let’s deal with this.”

she saw the demons were opposing this process. after some persistence, she got him to say it. “father, in the name of jesus, i come out of agreement with the spirit of condemnation.” it was a start. truth had been spoken. this was new for him.

he was not used to doing anything that empowered him or made him free and strong. but it was a start, and a good one. she stopped there. it was enough for now.

she wanted to go back, but he encouraged her to walk a little further. she soon saw why. the path that meandered to the far end of the park was under water. in fact, the whole park was almost entirely flooded from heavy spring rains.

the drought was over.

they finished their walk and headed back to his apartment. he thanked her for the movie and for lunch. he had some things to think about.

she prayed he would choose the path of life papa had for him.

certain things require change.

(copyright © 2017 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)

it had been a long, long night.

sleep didn’t come until the early hours of the morning.

lying in bed, thoughts raced through her mind.

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photo credit: pixabay

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

images of the swat team with guns drawn on her played over and over in her mind.

she felt like she lived in a movie. it was surreal.

finally, she sat up on the side of the bed.

it was real. it had purpose.

she was awake. she was alive.

jesus came and stood next to her as she gazed out the window.

he put his right hand on her left shoulder and spoke quietly, “no harm will come to you.”

“okay.”

a couple of tears ran down her cheeks.

she took a deep breath, went to the kitchen and made a pot of coffee.

she was awake. she was alive.

she was going to make it.

(copyright © 2016 jane doe productions)

the wind at her back

 

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photo credit: pixabay

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

silence fell between them. she sensed his anger.

once again, he got up out of bed in silence. In silence, he dressed and in silence, he walked out to the living room.

this time, something had to be different. their separation hadn’t changed anything. he was content. he didn’t have to do anything different. he hadn’t made room for her in his life. he didn’t care for her heart and she had given it all. the status quo was beyond painful, and now, unsustainable.

she needed to speak this time, to stand up for herself.

courage came. she steadied her voice and spoke: “i don’t feel very loved when you leave the room when we have things to sort out.” her words were strong, gentle and calm.

there, she’d said it. lying in bed, she waited for a response, hopeful. it came, but not the one she’d desired.

that mocking spirit rose up in him. it spoke out loud, addressing the dog. “did you hear that, rascal? she doesn’t feel loved.”

she lay in the bed, drawing the covers up closer around her. she waited, giving him time and a wide berth to do the right thing.

minutes later, she heard him get up from the couch. he walked back into the bedroom and lay down again on the other side of the bed. it might have been miles for the chill she felt from him.

she waited. it was his move now, not hers. not anymore. she waited for him to move closer to her, to invite her into his arms.

she waited for him to say he was sorry this one time. it didn’t come.

instead, he got up in silence and walked back out to the living room. he sat down in the same place on the couch.

waiting again, she gave him more time to choose well, to make a different choice. it didn’t come. the game was on. she wasn’t playing.

she got up and dressed. refusing to give in to anger, frustration or accusations, she walked to the living room, too.

walking to the door, she unlocked the door handle and deadbolt. she turned around, going to the kitchen to gather the items she’d purchased earlier.

her arms full, she walked to the middle of the room and looked at him with love in her eyes. holding back tears, she asked him, “Is there anything you’d like to say to me before i walk out the door?” she hoped, praying for a different outcome than the familiar one that had played so often.

he was on his feet now as she spoke, going toward the door. his anger was no longer contained. “no, I think you’ve said enough for both of us.” he had opened the door, but not as a courtesy. he was throwing her out without words. again.

she looked at him, but he wouldn’t meet her gaze.

she felt no fear, just great sadness as she walked over the threshold of the door. the wind of the slamming door blew across her back.

immediately, she heard papa speak in her heart. “now, he must come to you.”

there would be no going back now. he had choices to make.

(copyright 2016 jane doe)