it was the weekend, time for another bath to rejuvenate and refresh. it was time for conversation with jesus on a topic she didn’t often broach.
it was painful. questions outnumbered answers. she was surprised when he addressed her thoughts before she could speak.
various scenes and encounters played through her mind like old movie reels.
years had passed. prophetic words had come, gone, fallen to the ground.
when they fell, she lifted them back up in her hands, gently cleansing them and strengthening them with promise.
well meaning friends attempted to console with platitudes and scripture. they didn’t quite fit or comfort.
other not so much friends came with false prophecy to take her away from the directives on her destiny scroll. she was both surprised and amused when demons rose up as lying words were confronted with truth.
she thanked abba for the spirit of truth. truth was a close companion and trusted friend. healing and deliverance came as fast as truth rooted out the counterfeit.
old doors were firmly closed while new ones opened wide to paths of freedom. it was a new season, one she’d waited for in earnest.
hope remained. she nurtured it daily. hope kept her focused and immovable.
new possibilities were presented for her consideration.
she tucked deeper into jesus’ protective embrace, occasionally glancing at his ring on her finger.
the bathtub conversation went to the promise she held in her heart.
it was jesus’ time to speak to it.
“you have said ‘yes’ to many of my sons, trusting me to do the work of transformation in them so you could be one flesh.
none of them have said ‘yes’ to you because of the high price it will cost to walk with you.
they have been afraid, unwilling to surrender to the work or the calling.
walking with you, child, is no small thing.
you have suffered massive rejection and misunderstanding, and yet you’ve never left my side.
i will make things right for you.”
in a few powerful words of truth, he’d blown away the shame, rejection, religion and all the other mess.
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.
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?