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)

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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)