Stories from Heaven's Library - Vol. 9

For Young and Old

Featuring:
         Sun Gyi's God
         Tom & Julie--the Storytellers
         The Adventures of Little White Hawk:
         Black Feather's Wedding

SUN GYI'S GOD

         I come to speak to you, from a land of yesteryear,
         To show you of a time, that for me was very dear.
         I lived in a land of many trees, and a river great and wide.
         The hills, the plains, the lands, the sea, the delta, all combine
         To make the land, the land I love, where I lived and learned and grew;
         I grew to know the King of all, and now I share with you
         My story, so that you may find, within its pages, truth and light;
         That you may come to know and trust, the God of all, and King of might.

The Missionary
         My name is Sun Gyi San (sng-y sn), and I grew up in Myanmar--also known as Burma. My mother and father, brothers, sister, and I, lived in a little bamboo hut in a peaceful village. Our house was built on stilts so it wouldn't be flooded when the monsoons came. It was a peaceful life, and a beautiful one.
         My mother and father were good and wise, and they brought us up to be just, fair and kind. They were Buddhists, and they passed on their religion to us as well. Life was simple and joyful. We lived happily, watching the beautiful sunrise over the river each morning and the fiery sunset each night. My brothers and sister and I busied ourselves with small chores, going to the market with mother, and helping father plow the rice fields. We were busy--always busy--but life was serene*.
         One day, when I was about twelve, a missionary came to our village. He came to the village square. Many were frightened, as we did not have foreign visitors very often and some in our village had never seen a foreigner. This man spoke in a language that sounded very strange to us, yet he could also speak a little of our language. The small children were most interested in him. They would run up and look at him and then run off as if they were scared. He only smiled, and asked them if they wanted to play a game. My youngest brother and sister were quite bold, and they went up to him to play this game. Soon other children joined in his game--he called it "Ring Around the Rosies."
         The man was very kind to the little children and made them laugh. He had a puppet show that fascinated everyone. Some of the grownups were scared and worried what the man might do to their children, but they were too afraid to go up to him and take their children away, so they waited on the side, watching carefully.
         I, too, was on the side observing the man. Something about him fascinated me. I could not figure out what made him so different. It was not just his looks or his language, there was something else. He was interesting.
         That night, I stole to the window of the little hut where he was staying. The candlelight inside sent a warm glow throughout the room. I listened carefully as it seemed he was talking to someone. I peered into the window and saw that there was no one in the hut but him.
         He was on his knees and he was weeping. I did not understand what was making him so sad.
         His eyes were closed, his hands were folded and he was speaking to someone called "Jesus." I thought he must have been praying to some god. I had never heard of a god named Jesus. The only gods I knew were gods from the temple on the hill, and every time we wanted to pray to any of the gods, we had to go to the temple and perform a ritual* of offering sacrifices and prayers.
         But this man had a God that he could pray to in the privacy of his own hut. I liked that. And the tears--I had never seen a man weep as he prayed to a god. Yet here was a man weeping. Much of what he said I could not understand, but somehow I felt that he was praying for the people of our land--praying that they all might come to know this Jesus, and that, from the great darkness, a light would shine forth so bright that it would engulf the darkness.
         As I walked back to my hut that night, I was filled with questions and great wonderment at the foreign man and at what I had just seen. I lay down on my mat on the floor next to my brothers and sister, but it took me a long time to go to sleep. My mind was racing with questions and thoughts.
         In the days that followed, I watched the missionary with great interest, but I could never bring myself to go to him or to begin conversation. He spent most of his days in the central area of the village, talking to and entertaining the children.

Encounters by the River
         One morning I went to the great river that flowed by our village to get some water. It was a beautiful morning. The early mist had lifted and the sun shone brightly. The river looked like a blanket of stars that twinkled.
         All of a sudden, I heard a strange voice behind me. It was the usual and customary greeting of our region, but spoken by a very different voice. I spun around to find the tall, blond missionary standing behind me with a warm smile on his face. I dropped my water pots in surprise and stood frozen to the ground. My thoughts divided me. On one hand, I wanted to run and get as far away from him as I could, but on the other, I had so many things I wanted to speak to him about.
         He stooped down to help me fill my pots again and fasten them on the stick across my shoulders. With a warm smile and a pat on the back, he told me that Jesus loved me. I mumbled a quick goodbye and was off, making my way up the little trail that led back to the village.
         My mind was full of many thoughts. I wondered how a God whom I did not know, had never seen, and never offered any sacrifices to, could possibly love me. Surely the only gods that were kind and benevolent* were the gods that were appeased by many sacrifices and peace offerings. And even then, if a person didn't continue with the offerings, the gods would be upset and could bring many difficulties on the person and their family.
         But this missionary's God seemed different. When I got back home I was very upset with myself, because I had been given the opportunity to talk to this man, but I had been too scared to utter a single word. I wondered if he went down to the river every morning. I would find out.
         I went down to the river the next day, and there he was, sitting underneath a tree, reading. I stood where he could not see me and watched him for a long time. Every now and then he would look around and admire the scenery, and then He would look up to the sky with a contented smile on his face. After he finished reading, he got on his knees again and started to pray. I couldn't hear anything he was saying because he was a distance away, but I resolved that the next day I would get closer so I could hear what he was saying.
         Early the next morning, as the sun was just beginning to rise, I ran down to the river and climbed up the tree that the missionary had sat under the day before. Up here, I thought, I will be able to hear everything the missionary says. I had to wait for a while before I saw the missionary come down the path and settle himself beneath the tree. I watched him as he read silently, and listened as he prayed. What could he be reading?
         After the missionary had finished praying, he was quiet and he kept the same position--on his knees with his head bowed and hands folded. I wondered what he was doing. After a few minutes, he stood up and looked up into the tree--right at me!
         Oh no, I thought, He's seen me! I am caught! What shall I say?
         He gave a big smile and motioned for me to come down. I slid out of the tree and stood looking at the ground, feeling ridiculous. Then I looked at the book that he was holding, and he showed it to me. He explained that it was called the Bible, and that it held the words of his loving God and His Son, Jesus.
         We sat down together under the tree and spoke for a long time. I came to understand Who Jesus was, and why it was that He loved me. The missionary, whose name was Andrew, read parts of the Bible to me. I couldn't understand everything he said, but I knew in my heart that this man was special and that what he was telling me was the truth.
         In the days that followed, I often went down to the river in the morning to talk to Andrew, to hear more about his God, and to listen to him read to me from his Bible. I was very happy. I prayed with him one morning, asking Jesus to come into my heart. I loved this new God, Jesus, and started to pray to Him along with the missionary. For about a month I met Andrew at the river each morning, and we would talk and pray and sing.
         One day Andrew told me, "Sun Gyi, there is something else I must teach you." He went on to explain that I could be persecuted for my new faith. He read to me many passages from the Bible about persecution. That same day he also gave me my very own Burmese New Testament. I was honored to receive such a gift.
         "I will keep it with me always and treasure it as no other possession," I told him.
         "That's my boy!" Andrew replied. "If you read it faithfully, you will find a strength and a peace that you have not known. You will come to understand Jesus much better."
         We promised to meet again the next day, and said goodbye.

Trouble
         When I arrived back at my hut, I found my father standing in the doorway looking very angry. "Where were you this morning?" he demanded.
         "At the river, Father. I often go there in the morning."
         "I know! I saw you there talking to the strange man that has come to our village!" Father was very angry. "You must not speak with him. I have heard that he will put a curse upon you, and you will anger the gods. My rice crop will fail if the gods become angry at me for allowing you to speak with the stranger."
         "He is a nice man, Father," I replied. "He will not hurt me. I read with him out of his book. You know how much I like to read."
         "Arrgghh," my father screamed! "Not that book! It is an evil book, full of lies, false stories and wickedness!"
         "How do you know, Father? Have you ever read from it?" I asked him.
         "No! And I would never read it! I have heard from my friends that it is evil, and that is all I need to know. I forbid you to ever talk to this man again! You will not be corrupted by his words or by his God. We are Buddhists, and we worship the gods in the temple. We will worship no other. You will not speak to the missionary again."
         "No, Father!" I pleaded. I cried and begged my father to let me speak to the missionary, but he grew angrier and beat me and threw me onto my mat. He refused to let me go out or give me food or drink until I promised to obey.
         I remained in that hut a long time. Alone and very hungry, I took out the New Testament that the missionary had given me and began to read. I fell upon a verse that said, "Honor your father and mother" (Mat.15:4). I also read the verse that says, "Blessed are they which are persecuted for righteousness' sake: for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven" (Mat.5:10).
         As the sun that rises in the morning, light flooded into my soul. I knew what I had to do. I called my father and told him, "Father, I will obey you. I will not speak to the missionary." He was pleased and let me out of the hut.
         That night as I lay on my mat, I thought hard. I must find a way to tell Andrew why I can no longer come to the river in the morning. I decided I would write him a letter and ask someone to deliver it. To ask my sister or one of my younger brothers would be too dangerous. Father would find out. I thought about my friend, Eiang! Yes, he would be the right one.
         I devised* a plan. After school the next day, when everyone went home, I would send word with my sister to Father, telling him that I needed to stay longer at school to finish my work. Then I would take paper and pencil (for we had none at home) and write to Andrew. I would tell him of all that had happened to me. All this I did the next day.
         The following day, I found Eiang and asked him if he had delivered the letter. He nodded and pulled a paper out of his pocket and gave it to me. "Andrew is a good man," he said, as he ran off to play. I sat down and read the letter.

My dear Sun Gyi San,
         Eiang gave me your letter. I am very sorry to hear we will not be able to continue to spend time together each morning. I will pray for you every day. Please read the book I gave you, for in it you will find the strength that you need, and you will continue to learn about Jesus.
         Be kind, helpful, and obedient to your parents. They will see your love and your respect, and if you are patient, one day you may have the opportunity to explain to them Who it is that makes you this way.
         I will end with a promise that Jesus gives to you. 'I am with you always, even unto the end of the world' (Mat.28:20).
Your brother in Christ, Andrew

         I cried tears of happiness! I felt a peace in my heart, and I knew that my new God, Jesus, would be with me and help me through these difficult times. With great interest and excited determination I read the New Testament Andrew had given me. I had to read it secretly, as if my father found that I had it, he would take it away from me. I did my best to follow Andrew's instruction to obey and respect my parents, and show love to my younger brothers and sister.

The Patient Years
         As the years went by, I kept abreast of what Andrew was doing. He built a little chapel* that he used as a school during the day. Some of the mothers and fathers would let their children attend. There was great uproar in the town over this and much arguing. My father was foremost amongst those who spoke against the missionary. Then there were those who had been converted and who loved Jesus as I did. They would try to explain this to my father and the other villagers, but few listened.
         I would write Andrew from time to time, giving my letters to Eiang to give to him, and Andrew would write me back. I treasured his letters and kept them in a secret place along with my New Testament.
         When I was sixteen, my father arranged a marriage for me. I was pleased when I found out I would be married to Pearl. She was fifteen and very beautiful. I had played with her as a child and sometimes saw her at the market. She had a coy smile and beautiful eyes.
         Our wedding was grand, and most of the village attended. After days of feasting and ceremony, I was finally alone with Pearl. I spoke to her of my faith in Christ. She knew nothing of Him, but was interested in learning. We fell in love, and in the months that followed we spent much time together by the river, reading from my beloved New Testament and praying.
         Not too long after Pearl and I were married, we had a son. I named him John. My father was not pleased with the choice of name, knowing that it had something to do with what the missionary had taught me, but what could he say; John was my son to name.
         Pearl and I continued to live with my parents, for that is the custom of my country. Many times I longed to be my own man and be head of my house, away from my father's rule, so that I might be able to see the missionary whenever I wanted. But as an old saying goes, patience must be served, and I had many things to learn.
         It seemed that as the years went by, my father's hostility* towards Andrew and all those that followed him grew. Father was a village elder, and so his influence was strong. He could not forgive the missionary for converting his son. Most of the people in the village, however, did not feel as strongly as my father, and were not interested in cooperating* with his threats and evil schemes* to run Andrew out of town. They had seen Andrew's work, and if they did not believe in his God, at least they respected him and admired his patience. They knew he truly loved the people of our village.

A Change of Heart
         One day my father was struck with a terrible illness. The doctor was sent for, from up the river, but it looked as though he would not arrive in time. The whole family gathered around Father's bedside to pay our last respects. My father ordered everyone out of the room except for me. When they had gone, he spoke to me, laboring* with each breath and word.
         "Son, I ask your forgiveness. I have watched you all these years, and though I have openly spoken against the missionary and his work here, I have seen with my own eyes the way in which his God has worked. Of all my children, you are the one that has remained kind, patient and obedient, despite my anger. You have honored me and have been a good son. I have refused you all contact with the missionary, but you have remained constant in your faith. I have been watching you and I have seen this. Although I have been frightened by it, that little book you read has given you a strength and peace that is only seen in those that follow the missionary. My dying wish is that you explain to me what is the secret, so that I may die with the same tranquillity I see in you."
         At last, the moment I had waited so patiently for had come. I could explain my belief to my father. Overflowing with joy, I shared many things with my father, and he humbly received Christ as his Savior! When the rest of the family was called back in, my father proclaimed to them all, "Follow Sun Gyi's God, for He is the true God--the God of peace, and the God of love." With that, my father died. Although I was sad, I was satisfied, for I had shown my father my God, and he had accepted Him. I would be seeing my father again.
         After the elaborate funeral ceremonies were over, and the business was taken care of, I went to the little chapel to see Andrew. I was so pleased to see him. We embraced and spent many hours talking. I loved Andrew dearly, for he was the one who had introduced me to my beloved Jesus. Despite the long years of absence from each other, we were true brothers. The book I had so faithfully studied had watered and nurtured* the small seed that had been planted in my heart. It had now grown into a tree, and I, with a happy heart, dedicated my life to helping Andrew and spreading these seeds to others.
         This caused no small stir in my family. But I was a free man--free to go where I chose and do what I would--and what I chose was to be a missionary. In the years that followed, I spent much time with Andrew, helping him, learning from him, learning the loving ways of a missionary, and especially helping him to translate passages of the Bible into the dialect* of my village and the surrounding area.
         These were joyful times, as I filled my heart and mind with God's Word. Pearl and my three children busied themselves with the school, helping Andrew in as many ways as possible. Andrew was now growing older, and the youthful energy with which he had come to our village was beginning to fade. But in its place had grown a wisdom and a love beyond his years. Those of us who had been introduced to Jesus by Andrew considered him our elder, for he was wise and well respected. He knew the Word of God like none other in the village, and he taught it to all who would listen. He was a blessed man who gave his life, his energy and his love for all those in our village and in the surrounding area.
         I would accompany him on journeys to the surrounding areas where he would preach to other villages. A great friendship grew between Andrew and I. In many ways I considered him my father. Andrew would often say that I had been his first and most faithful convert. Although there were many years when we had no contact, God had sent me to him when he needed me the most--that first time many years ago, at the river, when he had been discouraged by the lack of results of his preaching. And now God had sent me to him again, when he was older and needed my assistance in his ministry and in translating portions of the Bible.
         I smile at the wisdom of our God. Truly, He does all things well.

A Turn of Events
         Life in our peaceful village was not destined to remain calm. Word came from down the river that war was on its way. The Japanese were invading. Already they had taken over many towns along the river, and it seemed that we would not be spared.
         Those of us who were Christians met together to pray and discuss the options available to us. Some left the village immediately and went into the hills. Andrew, Pearl and the children, along with some other Christians, and myself remained. There was much fear and uncertainty among the people, and we were able to comfort many with the message of peace.
         Then it happened! It was late one night. My wife and I and our children were sleeping peacefully when we were woken by roars overhead and the screeching of bombs as they fell through the air. It was an air raid*. People were screaming and running everywhere. Fires spread instantly.
         Our house did not take a direct hit, but unfortunately the little chapel where Andrew stayed was demolished. As soon as the planes had gone, Pearl and I ran over to find Andrew, but sadly, he was buried amongst the rubble. Andrew, who had worked so long and hard and dedicated his life to our village, to bringing the Gospel to our people, had gone to be with his God.
         For Pearl and I, it was a great personal loss. We would miss him. Yet we had little time to mourn Andrew's passing. In the middle of this chaos, there was a great need. Many lives had been lost, and there was much work to be done. There were fires all over. Large portions of the village were engulfed in the flames. The fire raged like a wild animal out of control. There was much confusion and chaos, with people and children running here and there trying to escape--first from the bombs, and then from the fire.
         The men of the village formed a line from the river to the village, passing water. They tried desperately to put out the flames, but it was no use. If something did not happen soon, the entire village would go up in flames, and many lives would be lost.
         "Call for Andrew!" someone yelled. "Ask him to pray to his God to stop the fire."
         "Andrew is dead," I quietly replied.
         "We must do something! We must stop this fire before the village is destroyed," the people cried.
         Although Andrew was gone, I knew his God was not gone. I fell to my knees, lifted my arms to the heavens and cried out, "Oh God, save us! From the ends of the earth we cry unto Thee. We are Your children. You are the God of gods, the Lord of lords. All power is in Your hand. Save us now, for we trust in Thee."
         Others of the villagers who were Christians joined in with their prayers. Suddenly, from a clear night sky filled with stars, clouds began to form. It was the hot season, during which it seldom rained, and yet, great rain clouds were forming above us. The rain began to fall, harder and harder, until it was almost like the monsoon*. Slowly the rain put out the fires.
         There was great joy and rejoicing! Many people were in awe, for everyone knew a great miracle had been done by Andrew's God--who remained our God, even though Andrew was no longer with us. The village and many lives had been saved. God had answered the prayer of one of His small, humble children in their time of dire need.
         Pearl and I went from house to house and person to person administering first aid and helping all those we could. Our house became a makeshift hospital, or at least a place for the wounded to lie. Night and day Pearl watched over the wounded with great care.
         Then the word came. "The soldiers! The soldiers are coming! They are coming this way! We must all leave! We must leave now! Take your possessions and your food and run for the hills." Time was of the essence. We had to get to the hills as quickly as possible, for the soldiers were very close.
         It would have been easy enough for Pearl and I to leave with our children, but what about the wounded? Many of them were the lone survivors of their families. There were not only the wounds of the body to consider, but also the wounds of the heart and the spirit. We could not leave them in the town to meet their fate with the soldiers. To my heart came the passage, "He shall feed His flock like a shepherd: He shall gather the lambs with His arm, and carry them in His bosom, and shall gently lead those that are with young" (Isa.40:11). Was God calling me to be a shepherd?--To lead these people to the safety of the hills?
         As quickly as possible, we gathered mules and carts and loaded the wounded, our possessions and as much food as we could find into them. Many of the village people joined us. We formed a great company as we left the village and slowly made our way towards the distant hills. We would have to make our home in the mountains until the occupation was over.

Attacked!
         With Andrew gone, people now looked to me as their elder in Christian matters. I was not used to this position, and yet, I found that in these times of difficulty and hardship, passages from the Bible would spring from my heart with increasing regularity. It was as if each portion that had been carefully stored away was now coming back to aid me.
         It was a long journey to the hills. We made our way slowly, for we were a great company. The paths were steep and perilous*. Many times there was danger of a cart or mule slipping off the path into the abyss below.
         One night we were camped in a small clearing. The fire was out and everyone was still and sleeping. Near midnight, a loud roar tore through the camp. It was a tiger! Chaos sprung forth instantly as the tiger tore and ravaged through the camp! We had no guns, only sticks and knives. We were no match for a crazed tiger. After terrorizing us all, and wounding some who got in his way, the tiger ran off into the night, carrying with him a small child. The damage had been done.
         box inserted at this point in the story: Note: While tigers are ferocious hunters, they usually avoid humans, and only attack them if they feel threatened, or are too weak to hunt.
         Quickly a large fire was lit in hopes that it would ward off any further attack. Everyone huddled around the fire, most weeping, and some too shocked to even speak. I wept and sobbed. What am I to do? What if the tiger returns yet another night?
         Some of the wounded cried out to me, "Why have we come all this way? Why did you take us out of the village? It would have been better to face prison than to be out here on the mountain with no defense. We cannot even run to protect ourselves! Where is your God now, Sun Gyi? Why did He not spare us?"
         These words cut me to the heart, for I was as distressed as everyone else. With a grieving heart I went a ways off by myself and fell to the ground weeping, "Oh God! Oh God, why has this happened? What am I to do? You told me to bring all the wounded with us, but here we are, defenseless. I am unable to protect them. Only You are powerful! Only You are able to defend us."
         I spent hours that night praying and beseeching God for His protection. I claimed many scriptures, holding God to His promises. When I was spent*, I lay down and looked up at the beautiful stars in the clear night sky as the scriptures of Psalm 91 comforted my heart. It was as if I could hear a voice speaking to me. "I will say of the Lord, He is my refuge and my fortress: my God; in Him will I trust. For He shall give His angels charge over thee, to keep thee in all thy ways. They shall bear thee up in their hands, lest thou dash thy foot against a stone. Thou shalt tread upon the lion and adder: the young lion and the dragon shalt thou trample under feet. Because he hath set his love upon Me, therefore will I deliver him: I will set him on high, because he hath known My Name. He shall call upon Me, and I will answer him: I will be with him in trouble; I will deliver him, and honor him." Thus, with my heart comforted, I fell asleep.
         The next day we continued our journey up the mountain trail. As we traveled that day, everyone was quiet and watchful. I had an ominous* feeling that I could not shake--as if danger was lurking* around the corner. I fully expected the tiger to return at any moment, springing down from an overhanging rock.
         To keep up our spirits we quietly sang. We sang as many of the hymns that Andrew had taught us as we could remember. God kept us safe all that day. As we camped for the night we made a large fire and took turns tending it through the night, hoping the fire would ward off wild animals.
         Everyone bedded down, still rather worried. I don't believe anyone slept well, with the memory of the previous night's attack fresh in their mind. I was woken in the middle of the night--it was my turn to tend the fire. Rather sleepily I stood gazing at the flames. All at once the words came to my mind, "Stand and fight! For this day is victory delivered into your hands."
         Instantly I was wide awake, listening for any sound. I reached for my knife and held it ready.
         Then it happened--a roar tore through the night. The tiger had returned, but this time I was prepared. With a strength not my own, I ran towards the tiger and fought him. He threw me to the ground, tearing at my arm, growling and snarling. Despite the wound, almost supernaturally, I continued wrestling and stabbing him. At last, I delivered the final blow, and the tiger lay still in death.
         Shouts and cries of joy went up from all those in the camp. We had been delivered! My wife came running over to examine my wounds. The cuts in my arm were not deep, and in time would heal well. It was a miracle. I had wrestled in combat with this fearsome, angry beast, and yet I had but a small wound to show for it. I could have easily lost my life, but it had been preserved by the same power that had assisted me in my fight.
         Everyone was astonished! "Ohhh!", they exclaimed. "Andrew's God is with Sun Gyi!"

Conclusion
         The next day we made it safely to the hill camp. We were greeted happily by the villagers who had gone ahead of our company. There were many stories to tell--and they were told with great excitement--how God had sent rain to stop the fire, and how He had saved us from the tiger. Many praised me for killing the tiger, but I could only explain to them that it was not I that brought down the rain from the heavens, and it was not I that fought the tiger.--It was my God, Jesus, Who had sent the rain, and it was He Who had given me the strength and the courage to fight the tiger. For all could see that I was a weak and small man. I was not strong, neither brave, but God had been with me in my fight and protected me from serious injury. I testified to the attentive crowd of the power and love of my God, and many were converted that day.
         We settled in the hill camp, and spent our days caring for the wounded, ministering to the broken-hearted, and, when there was time, translating portions of the Bible into the local dialect. We made the beautiful mountains our home, and Pearl, the children and I would travel from camp to camp, telling others about Jesus and spreading His Word.
         We were able to continue the work that faithful Andrew had begun. Many in the hill country came to love my Jesus. I was just a small man, but God was with me and He was able to use me to win many to His Kingdom. Many times I could feel Andrew's presence with me, helping me.
         And, when my days were ended and I reached my Heavenly Home, Andrew was there to greet me. Happily, we embraced, and marveled at what had been accomplished, and the many that had been converted because we--two humble men--had given our lives to serve our beloved Jesus.

TOM AND JULIE -- THE STORYTELLERS
         Less than a year after Tom and Julie had left the tightly controlled AC country where they had been ministering to Frank and their other sheep, the breaking of the Covenant in the middle of the Antichrist's Seven-Year Peace Plan signaled the beginning of the Great Tribulation. Ushering in an era of increased persecution, a greater enforcement of the Mark of the Beast came into full swing upon the peoples of the nations that had aligned themselves with the Antichrist.
         Residing deep in the countryside, among simple folk, Tom and Julie had managed to evade the watchful eye of the One World registration system for a good deal of time, continuing to witness to the people around them, who knew little or nothing of the more sinister spiritual workings behind the polished image of the One World Government.
         But now, technological advances had brought the Mark even to the tiny village where they had found refuge. And so Tom and Julie, together with their one-year-old daughter Clarissa, found themselves at the start of another great adventure
         Julie stirred. She could hear faint noises in the background. Drowsily lifting her head from its leaning position against the crate next to her, she glanced down at Clarissa, who was still sleeping, then over to Tom, who was sound asleep too. The noises were getting louder now. Julie looked towards the door. She could hear someone coming down the steps, then fumbling with the lock.
         The door opened, and after a few seconds, as her eyes adjusted to the dim light that streamed in, she recognized Edward, their friend, standing in the doorway. A slight man with disheveled* hair, he brought a tin plate of food over and held it out to Julie.
         "Thank you so much," Julie said slowly with a smile, as she struggled to wake fully.
         Just then Tom raised himself up on one elbow, and as he saw the food, added, "Yes, thank you, Edward."
         Edward looked at them both kindly.
         "Five more days," he said clearly, looking at them both, first one and then the other. "Five more days," he repeated, as if to make sure they understood.
         Julie glanced at Tom. "Thank you very much, Edward."
         Edward glanced over at the pitcher of water he had brought down earlier. Satisfied to see that it was not empty, he turned and locked the door behind him and went up the stairs again.
         Julie looked down at the tin plate of food. "So sweet. I bet you this is mostly his food."
         "Yes, God bless him," Tom said, hungrily picking at a morsel on the edge of the plate.
         Julie looked around her at the moving shadows that the lone yellow lantern cast as it gently rocked from side to side above them.
         "Five more days," she whispered under her breath.
         The days and nights had melted into each other for Tom and Julie. They hadn't seen daylight for several days. The only thing keeping them connected to time was Tom's watch.
         Clarissa stirred. Her golden curls stuck to her forehead, which was moist with beads of sweat.
         At least it's warm in here, Julie thought to herself, even though it's a little damp.

* * *

         Julie thought back to the weeks, months, and years before, and the turn of events that had brought them aboard this ship. It had taken a while before the advanced technology needed to enforce the Antichrist's Mark had become available in small towns such as the one where Tom and Julie had found refuge. But recently everyone in the region had been mailed a postcard, inviting them to come in to a named clinic to receive their personal, electronic number, to be used for all sales, purchases or financial transactions of any kind. It had all been very calculated and organized, and Tom and Julie's date had come up the previous Saturday.
         Nothing like a deadline to get you moving! Julie thought, with half a smile.
         Just a few days earlier, Tom and Julie had desperately prayed for the Lord's will and guidance in their lives. That was when the Lord indicated that it was His will for them to move on, and that they should be like Abraham, who went out not knowing whither he went. The Lord had given Tom a vision of the nearest port, and Julie had received confirming verses that it was the Lord's will for them to travel to their next location by ship.
         The crazy thing about it all is that we still don't know where we're going to end up! Julie thought to herself. She didn't mind that, though. She remembered the anticipation she felt as she and Tom packed up the few belongings they could carry and made the trip of several hours to the dock in their car. They had been there before in previous years, going from ship to ship, talking to and singing for the sailors, so they were somewhat familiar with the place. However, they'd never gone for the purpose they were going for now!
         As they had walked along the wharf, trying to look as if they knew what they were doing, they unexpectedly ran into one of their sheep, Edward, whom they had met aboard a ship a couple of years previously. He was as happy to see them as they were surprised to see him. Already a sincere Christian, he had prayed to receive Jesus with them back then, "Just to make sure," as he had put it. Julie had written to him now and then, sending him Living Waters and other reading materials.
         Edward knew about the Mark being enforced in this country, so when Tom and Julie took the plunge of faith and shared with him, in low voices, that they needed to leave as soon as possible, his mind jumped into gear right away. Within an hour Edward had gotten them onto his ship as "visitors," and introduced them to the captain and other members of the crew. On a pretense of taking them to shore again, he had hidden them in one of the baggage rooms.

* * *

         Clarissa stirred in her sleep, interrupting Julie's thoughts. "Quiet, darling!" Julie stroked her damp curls.
         "Mama," she mumbled in her sleep.
         "Sshhh, it's okay."
         Clarissa had been an absolute angel during this whole adventure, hardly crying and contentedly looking at the only two little picture books Julie had brought along, for hours at a time. She was just learning to say her first few words. "Bah" (ball), "Cah" (Cat), and "Flah" (flower). It was so cute. She was such a joy and a fun diversion during this time that seemed to drag on forever.
         Tom and Julie passed time by quietly singing all the songs they could remember from the FTTs, the Memo Book tapes, Songs That Made the Revolution, and then the Heaven's Magic tapes. Clarissa loved their singing and would rock her head from side to side, while holding herself up against Julie's knee.
         Edward had told them that this ship was going to be stopping at several different ports on this particular trip, before it reached its final destination. Most of the ports he mentioned, Julie had hardly ever heard of.
         While they were discussing the possibilities of where this voyage might lead them, Tom suddenly stopped in the middle of a sentence. They both looked towards the door as they heard the clattering of footsteps and the familiar fumbling of the lock. Edward came in a little quicker than usual, and Tom and Julie both knew they must have arrived at a safe place to disembark.
         Edward looked at them both and smiled. "Are you ready?"
         "Yes, yes, we are. Where are we?" Julie asked, as she stood up, holding sleeping Clarissa close to her.
         "Come with me," was all Edward would say.
         As they went up the several flights of steps to the upper deck, they blinked a little at the bright moonlight. Julie and Tom both breathed deeply of the fresh sea air.
         "Oh! This is sooo nice," Julie exclaimed as she exhaled.
         Even Edward, in the hurry that he was, paused for a moment and smiled, and looked out to sea.
         The deck was totally quiet. Tom and Julie could hear the noises of partying coming from the other end of the ship. From the sounds of it, the sailors were getting drunk on their night off.
         "Come with me," Edward said again.
         They carefully walked down the oddly shaped steps that led to the shore. As they reached the bottom, Tom shook Edward's hand warmly.
         "Thank you so much, Edward. We can't tell you how much we appreciate your help."
         "Yes, thank you," Julie said, as she gently touched his arm. "God bless you and keep you."
         Edward smiled appreciatively. "It has been wonderful to see you both again."
         He stuffed a small roll of money into Tom's hand. "For food," he said, patting him on the shoulder. "They still use money here. You must find the Tiger Tavern. My friend John will be there. Just tell him I sent you. I'm certain he can arrange a place for you to stay tonight."
         "Thank you so much," Julie whispered.
         An extra loud shout came from the wild party above, and Edward turned to go.
         Julie was wide awake now. The fresh sea air had invigorated her. She looked around. The port wasn't all that big. A large faded sign stood over what seemed like the entrance to the port, barely visible in the moonlight. A dimly lit guard box was unoccupied. Tom and Julie could see the lights of a town in the distance, which they started towards.

* * *

         As Tom and Julie wove their way through the crowded streets, full of nightlife, they kept their eyes peeled for the Tiger Tavern. Edward had said it was on one of the main roads. Interesting and unusual smells filled the air. Dogs scurried between the people milling around. Naked light bulbs, strung between the stalls, lit up the evening marketplace, and old men and women shouted out, advertising their wares.
         After asking a few people and getting some general points in the direction that the Tavern was, they came to it. Julie hoped it wouldn't be too odd that she brought Clarissa in. Just in case, though, she told Tom, "Why don't you go in and check if he's there first?"
         Tom looked at her. "You'll be okay out here?"
         "Yes, Lord bless and keep us both and help John to be there."
         Tom edged his way inside and looked around. It took his eyes time to adjust to the smoke-filled and dimly lit room. As he scanned the place, his eyes fixed on the back of a man sitting alone at the bar. Trying not to look too out of place, he casually made his way over and sat down on a stool next to him.
         "Excuse me," Tom began, and mustered up the courage to continue, "I'm looking for a man named John."
         The man looked up, a little startled. Tom quickly added, "Our friend Edward said that we could find him here."
         The man's face relaxed. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, then. My name is John." He extended his hand.
         "So, friend," John remarked, "it seems to me that you need a place to stay tonight, am I right?"
         "Yes. My wife and small child and I just arrived."
         "Hmm, I see. Well, why don't you just come with me then," John answered without hesitation, as he got up and proceeded out of the tavern.
         John led Tom and Julie a couple of blocks down the road and then turned into a small side street. Then he led them up an outside stairway, and through a door leading into a small kitchen.
         "Excuse the mess," he muttered, as he switched on the light. He led them through the kitchen, which doubled as a dining room, into an adjoining room with a single bed and a small chest of drawers.
         "You can stay here tonight. My grandmother's away visiting relatives for a few days."
         "Thank you very much," Tom said, reaching out to shake his hand again. "We do appreciate it."
         "Yes," Julie said, as she began to rock Clarissa, who was stirring in her sleep.
         "Glad I can be a help to some friends of Edward," John said with a smile as he closed the door.
         Tom and Julie both sank down on the bed, with Clarissa nestled between them. They were so thankful to be able to lie down and sleep in a real bed for the first time in days.
         "Oh, thank You, Jesus, for getting us here safely. Continue to lead and guide us," Tom whispered.
         They were both asleep before they even had time to think of what they would do the next day or in the days following.

* * *

         Julie awoke bright and early to lovely, yellow sunshine streaming through the curtains in their little room. For a moment she lay on the bed blinking, not remembering where she was, and wondering why she felt so comfortable. Then it all came back to her.
         "Oh yes! Thank You Lord for providing a nice bed to sleep in," she whispered under her breath, so as not to wake Clari and Tom. She could hear the stirring sounds of the city several blocks away, and a rooster crowing off in the distance. She glanced over at Tom's watch, which read 6:30. Since Clarissa was still asleep, Julie decided to close her eyes and take advantage of it.

* * *

         Close to noon, their new friend, John, dug out what looked like a very old baby stroller from deep in the broom closet, and offered it to Julie, to her delight. They decided to head down to the marketplace, with little Clari riding in the stroller to look around. It looked very different from the night before. Clarissa, Tom and Julie looked at the amazing assortment of goods and wares being displayed. There were even pet monkeys and funny-looking rodents being sold, which fascinated little Clari.
         When Tom and Julie prayed that morning, the Lord had told them simply to go out and that He would lead them step by step. Tom and Julie didn't mind not knowing what was going to happen, they were just enjoying being back in the sunlight and around people again.
         While Tom and Julie did not speak the local language, they found, to their relief, that many people spoke at least some English, so they were largely able to make themselves understood. Tom bought some dried fruit and what looked like some flat loaves of bread. He tried his hand at bargaining and found to his pleasant surprise that he was quite good at it. Julie smiled, amused at the fun that he was having, as he would stomp away from a shopkeeper in mock frustration, only to be called back two or three times. He looked over at her sheepishly.
         "We have to make this money stretch as far as we can!"
         Everybody would stop and stare at Clarissa's lovely little blond curls, and she loved soaking up the attention. One old woman sitting on a crate handed her a banana, to the delight of little Clari.
         "What do you say, Sweetheart? Say thank you," Julie reminded Clari.
         With this, Clari smiled and gave a cute little nod of her head in thanks, which produced a beaming, toothless grin from the old lady.
         They found a large tree in the main square to sit under while they ate their mid-morning brunch, and continued looking around them. Julie imagined it would probably get much hotter later in the day, but for now the heat was bearable.
         "It would be interesting to find a map and see exactly where we are," Julie said, smiling over at Tom.
         Tom smiled back. Geography was never Julie's strong point. "Yes, that'd be good. I'm sure there's a travel agency or some sort of tourist information center in this city."
         "It doesn't look like this town--or this city--whatever it is, has really felt the effects of the One World Government yet, has it?" Julie looked around her. Despite the dirt and smells, there was a kind of pleasant disorganization about the whole place, a "live and let live" feeling in the air.
         "Thank the Lord! That's certainly to our advantage!" Tom said, smiling at a little bare-footed girl who ran up to stare at the three newcomers.

* * *

         Tom suddenly awoke and looked around. All was quiet and dark. A thin beam of moonlight crept through a crack in the curtains and left a soft pool of light at the foot of the bed. Tom looked over at Julie and Clari who were sound asleep.
         He'd had the same mystifying dream again--broad expanse of desert; yellow-brown sand, stretching as far as the eye could see, and one lone camel, almost larger than life. Sitting atop the camel was a man--he looked like a prince of some sort. He was dressed in brilliant white robes that seemed to reflect the sun's light, and the white turban wrapped around his head left only the dark skin of his face showing. Tom never saw his face close-up in his dream, but the man was always riding steadily toward him from the desert.
         "What does it mean, Lord?" Tom had had dreams before that didn't make any sense, but he had never had a dream so many times. Every night since they had arrived in this new country a week ago, he had awoken to the same dream. Tom sighed, but he knew the Lord would show him what it meant when the time came.
         His thoughts drifted back, as he mentally replayed the events of the past week. These past few days they had familiarized themselves with the marketplace and explored virtually every street in the city. They had gotten some local clothing as well, so as to blend in more, and so they wouldn't be taken for rich tourists that could be ripped off when they went shopping. Clari just charmed everyone's hearts with her little smile, showing her tiny white teeth. With her little blond curls, she was such a heart-winner!
         Tom's heart swelled in fatherly pride. He looked again at Julie and Clari sleeping peacefully. Lord help me to take good care of them.--And please take good care of us, Tom prayed. He then drifted back to sleep.

* * *

         The next morning, when Tom and Julie went out for their morning walk with Clari after their devotions, they were surprised to see the town buzzing with excitement. People were hanging banners and streamers and flowers over the awnings of their shops. Others were stringing lights across the streets, and still others were putting up decorative palm leaves on walls and buildings and trees.--Anywhere one would fit.
         "I wonder what all the excitement is about?"
         "I think that's the excitement there," Tom said, pointing over to a brown wall that might have once been white. A large poster was being glued onto it, depicting a man with a white headdress.
         Tom felt a tingle of excitement go through his spine as he looked at the poster. Could this be ?
         "Julie!" He said, trying to catch his breath, "remember that dream I've been telling you about, that I keep having?"
         "Yes," Julie said, staring at the poster as well.
         They both knew what the other was thinking.
         "Wow! This is exciting!" Julie exclaimed.
         They asked some of the shopkeepers, who now recognized Tom and Julie from their daily walks, about the posters. One of them explained that the man on the poster was a prince, visiting from a neighboring country, Prince Akhmed Fahmir.
         As Tom and Julie continued their morning walk, they came to the large square--their favorite place to stop for a morning snack.
         As they walked gratefully towards its familiar shade, a couple of local fruit drinks in hand, an eight-year-old boy ran up to Tom, with a large smile on his face.
         "Story, story! Tell us a story!" He begged, tugging on Tom's white tunic-style shirt. Some other children nearby heard and also thronged around Tom and Julie, mimicking his words, "A story! A story!"
         Tom smiled. "I didn't realize they liked my stories so much," he said to Julie, who was also smiling at the children all around them.
         Just a couple of days previously, Tom had discovered the art of storytelling, when a few children sat around the tree staring at him and he decided to strike up a conversation. By the time Julie had come back from shopping with Clari, several children--and even a few parents--were so mesmerized with the simple story that Tom was telling, that hardly a head turned to look at little Clari. The people had begged Tom to come back the next day and tell them more stories. Word of this foreign "storyteller" had spread quickly, and every day it seemed more people gathered around to listen.
         The following day, while Tom was trying to explain a certain story, he looked around at the puzzled faces and prayed for a solution.
         "Does anyone here have a blackboard and some chalk?"
         "Yes! I do!" A plump woman piped up, disappearing into her shop and re-emerging with a small blackboard and several sticks of chalk.
         "Aha, there's my solution!" From then on Tom used the blackboard to illustrate the simple stories that he told. These were stories that he had heard all his life. Some he adapted, and others he told just as he had heard them, ranging from simple stories about Scott the Puppy to age-old stories of Noah and the Ark, and then occasionally even stories of his childhood and the various countries he had lived in.
         This "ministry" was an answer to Tom and Julie's prayers. They both had been looking for a way to begin pouring out to people again. They missed the witnessing they were used to doing. And this was the Lord's answer to their prayers. Although Tom felt unsure of himself at first, and it had been several years since he'd taught kids--and they were Family kids who already knew a lot of Word--the Lord was doing it.
         He had prayed for special storytelling spirit helpers, and it definitely seemed they were coming to his aid. Each day as Tom took the plunge to make his way to the square again, although a little nervous, the Lord always punched through and brought a good story to mind.
         Besides their one-on-one personal witnessing to John and other sheep they met, this was a way that Tom and Julie could test the waters as to how much of a witness these local people could take. It was apparent that they weren't under any strict authority or control from the One World Government, and they seemed to live fairly relaxed lives. Tom and Julie wondered how this was possible, even this far into the time of Great Tribulation. When they asked the Lord about this in prayer, He showed them that the leader of this country was anti-Antichrist, and a man who cared for and protected his people. The Lord told them that He was holding back the tide of the floods of evil that were trying to overwhelm this nation. This gave Tom and Julie increased faith to feed the people in this way.
         Sometimes Tom would baby-sit Clarissa and Julie would tell stories. She also felt a little nervous, although she certainly had more experience than Tom in helping take care of her younger brothers and sisters, and telling them stories when she was younger. Despite their worries about the presentation of their stories, their little audience seemed to eat them up, which reassured them both.
         Today, however, parents came to pick up their children sooner than usual. They smiled apologetically at Tom and Julie.
         "They must help us today. We're so sorry."
         "Oh, that's okay," Tom and Julie said.
         "Do you know? There will be a big parade. Prince Akhmed arrives tonight."
         Tom and Julie relaxed under the tree with their exotic-tasting fruit drink and bananas and watched the hustle and bustle around them. They wondered how long the prince would be staying.
         "I have a feeling that the Lord has something in store for us--something to do with this prince."
         Julie nodded at him silently.

* * *

         That night the festival and parade was quite a sight. It seemed as if everyone and his dog had turned out to wave palm leaves, and to cheer and to dance in the streets. The old ladies were out selling specially concocted drinks and snacks. Old men walked around with wooden trays strapped to their waists, selling whirligigs*, balloons and handcrafted toys.
         One of the old men--by now a friend of Tom and Julie's--upon seeing little Clari that evening, stopped by, and with a large smile on his old wrinkled face, he handed Clari one of his largest balloons, prompting an immediate smile in response.
         "Thank you so much," Julie said gratefully.
         John had hospitably welcomed them to stay longer in the little room, since his grandmother had extended her visit with relatives. They'd managed to survive on the money Edward had left them, but they were now getting quite low on cash for food, let alone to buy little toys for Clari.
         "Thank You Jesus, You're so sweet to give that little gift to Clari," Julie whispered under her breath. As a new mommy she now understood how mothers wanted to give their child the best of everything they possibly could. It helped her to understand, too, how much Jesus loved her and Tom, in giving them the best of everything as well.
         It was some time before any sign of a procession came through, but the people didn't seem to mind. They whooped and they laughed and the children played with hula-hoops and set off firecrackers for an hour or more.
         When the shouts grew increasingly louder, Tom and Julie knew that the procession was probably moving along towards their area. And so it was. First a parade of smartly dressed soldiers marched through the square, followed next by a motorcycle squad going at a snail's pace, and then several rows of horsemen.
         Tom craned his head to see what was coming next. "Oh my God, look!"
         "What?! I can't see! What? What?" Julie said, trying to both protect Clari from the throng of people, as well as see for herself what was coming. Doing their best to peer across the throngs of people, they could see a large white camel approaching, on which sat a stately man.
         "Well, isn't that a sight!" Tom whispered under his breath, as the crowds cheered even more wildly, throwing flowers and streamers onto the road. The prince nodded to the crowds. He had a solemn, yet kind look on his face.
         The parade having passed, the fever of excitement in the crowd died down, and people began to disperse. Little Clari started whimpering a little, feeling stifled by all the commotion.
         "It's okay, Clari." Julie soothingly stroked Clarissa's hot forehead. "Maybe we should go home now, Tom."
         "Yes," Tom said thoughtfully.

* * *

         In the days following, Tom went to his usual "story spot." He tried to go there each day around mid-morning, when the air was still slightly cool. Each morning the dear lady brought out the blackboard and the chalk with a smile. The children and grownups had begun to seat themselves before Tom even arrived now, patiently waiting.
         On one such morning, as Tom was telling a story, Julie stayed on the outskirts of the crowd of people and looked around. The townspeople had brought stools, blankets and mats of various sizes to sit on, while some stood around the edge of the crowd.
         Tom chatted with a couple of small children by his feet as he set up the blackboard and prepared his chalk, saying a silent prayer for the Lord to anoint him once again.
         "Today's story is about " Tom paused for a minute, looking around at the crowd, who seemed to lean forward ever so slightly in anticipation " a garden.--And a Gardener!"
         "One fine morning, the gardener went into his garden, but he was surprised to see that all the plants and trees of the garden were droopy and sad!"
         He looked over and smiled at a wide-eyed three-year-old, who was watching his every move with keen anticipation.
         Tom was quickly creating the garden on the blackboard. As he drew the characters, he sang the song from one of the videos he'd seen years ago:
         "Alas, woe is me, what is this that I see, all my flowers and trees are so saa-aa-dd! Tell me, my good Oak, is this some kind of joke, or a terrible problem you ha-aa-ve?"
         Tom stopped just as abruptly as he had started, looking at the first row of children sitting cross-legged on the ground around him, who giggled at the sudden outburst of song, and then continued telling the story.
         Julie, too, smiled. This is such a good idea. Lord, thank You for showing us this way to minister to these precious people! She too had a story prepared for later on, when Tom would get a little tired and want a break. She glanced around the crowd, which had grown quite considerably. When Julie made a quick mental count, there were nearly seventy. Quite a few grownups too. She prayed, Oh Lord, please help Tom as he tells this story. Help him not to go blank. Help him not to be nervous. Please also help the moral of the story to sink into each one's heart and pave the way for an even greater witness later. Please have Your way, Jesus.
         As she glanced around at the grownups lining the outer circle of the audience, her eyes lingered on a woman, who struck her as a little out of place. She's pretty, Julie thought to herself. She was a slender and petite young woman, dressed in black from head to toe. Wearing dark glasses, Julie couldn't see her eyes, but this woman seemed to be intently listening.
         I wonder if she's some kind of official? Julie wondered to herself. Oh Lord, please continue to protect our security. Help no one to get nosy about why we're in this country or if we're supposed to be here.
         Satisfied that she had taken it to the Lord, she continued looking around at the audience. She was missing their previous country less and less these days, as the love and appreciation she was beginning to feel from these people was so very fulfilling. They all just adored little Clarissa, and always offered her food whenever they went down to the marketplace. Julie's thoughts were far away when a while later she happened to glance back to where the unusual woman had been. She was gone.

* * *

         "My dear friend," the king said to the visiting prince as he warmly greeted him, clasping both of his arms in his. "What a pleasure to see you again so soon."
         "I thank you for your hospitality in receiving me on such short notice, but I have a very important matter I must speak with you about," the prince replied.
         A tall servant girl set down two glasses of honey wine beside them, and with a wave of his hand, the king dismissed all his servants and aides.
         Just as she was also about to depart, Prince Akhmed raised his hand and bade his closest aide, Fatuna, stay, explaining to the king, "She is my most trusted aide." The king nodded, as Fatuna stood respectfully behind the prince.
         "So tell me. How goes it with your people?" the king inquired.
         "The very problem that I face has to do with my dear people," began the prince. "They are more discontent than ever. When we first made a pact together, more than a year ago," the prince looked out at the ocean, "that we would protect our people in whatever way possible from this One World Government, you and I agreed that the greatest weapons of defense we could possibly use were the unseen ones--the weapons of persuasion, of keeping our people happy in whatever way possible, so that they would remain loyal and not be tempted to fear the great hand of this mighty Beast."
         The prince looked squarely at the king. They used such terms with no one else.
         "Yes," the king retorted, "the strength of my people has stood in their simple love of life and their contentment with the simple joys that they have, of working hard and raising their children."
         "Which," the prince replied, "is the reason I have come to see you. My people, too, once had that contentment. They had peace, they led simple lifestyles. But the propaganda of the great dictator is strong, and I have nothing to counter it.
         "He is seducing my people," the prince's voice gained passion, "with material things, with greed, with the promise of a 'better life,' of being better off, if they will only bow down and worship him.
         "He has control of almost every avenue of international media--the Internet, television and the radio. It is not a thing that I can control any more.--Which means that my people are now choosing for themselves who they will swear allegiance to."
         The prince glanced at Fatuna behind him, who respectfully kept her eyes ahead, but heeded closely every word that was spoken.
         "His wiles have even deceived some of my closest, most trusted aides, who have defected. You know they did not need to defect! I was not holding them against their will. And yet they left in the night, without a word spoken to me. Well I hope they find what they are searching for." The prince looked down. He had never felt so helpless.
         "May I be given the liberty to speak, Your Highness?" Fatuna ventured, as she took a step forward.
         "Granted," the prince said.
         "While out, both yesterday and today, I had the unexpected privilege of hearing two storytellers."
         The king looked questioningly at Fatuna, and the prince also raised his brows slightly.
         Fatuna continued confidently, "I venture to say that these gifted ones--though young--could hold part of the solution for our people. As Your Highness so aptly put it, we have no way to counter the great dictator's wiles and seductions. Yet as I listened to these storytellers, I found my heart being filled with peace and contentment. Their stories carried deep truths, and yet " For a moment Fatuna seemed lost for words, "their words were so pure, clear and simple, that even the smallest child could understand."
         The king raised his eyebrows and added, "News of these storytellers has reached even my ears. They are apparently causing quite a stir in the town where they are staying, and are popular with the people there." He quickly added, "They are not from our country, but no one knows where they came from."
         The prince's interest was immediately captured. Perhaps this could be the solution he was looking for. "Then summon them," the prince instructed Fatuna, turning to the king for his approval.
         "Of course," the king said, "do as you wish."
         "With His Highness' most gracious wishes, of course," the prince added.
         Fatuna was gone in an instant.

* * *

         Today was Julie's turn to begin with a story. She smiled and glanced around the audience, silently praying for the Lord's help. She noticed that the same unusual woman who had been in the audience yesterday was here again today.
         Lord help me not to be nervous, she silently prayed, and began her story. "Once upon a time, in a faraway land, there was a princess who lived in a high, high tower, where no one ever went!"
         Julie immediately became engrossed in her storytelling. Forgetting all about the woman, she concentrated on trying to remember the story she had read in the Free Zine when she was younger.
         When lunchtime came, the noon sun beat down very hot. Tom and Julie looked for a place to eat. As they stood close together, Tom whispered a prayer just loud enough so Julie could hear too, "Lord, You know that we're out of money. Please somehow supply a lunch for us today."
         They walked along the street smiling at the children and different ones who had been listening to their stories that morning. They had previously prayed and counseled, and decided not to take any kind of money collection, concluding that it was better at this point to simply give the stories as a gift to the people.
         As they walked by, one of the shopkeepers called out, "You must be hungry! Why don't you come in? Please, sit down!"
         They looked a little hesitant and surprised.
         "No, no, no, please sit down! Please sit down!" he urged them again.
         He led them over to a white plastic table with a small red and white striped umbrella shading it. He quickly dusted the table off with a towel and motioned for Tom and Julie to sit down. He brought them tall, cold drinks and some local food.
         "Why, thank you so much," Tom started to say. "But we can't really pay for this."
         The man stopped their words with a finger to his mouth. "Your stories are more pay than I could ever want. You've kept my children out of trouble!" he said, nodding his head in the direction of some eight- and nine-year-old boys playing together on the street corner.
         Tom and Julie smiled gratefully again, thanking the man, and then looked into each other's eyes. The Lord had done it again!
         As they were finishing their lunch, Julie noticed a white car coming up the street, off in the distance. Crawling at a snail's pace, it waited for children, dogs and carts to move out of the way as it edged closer.
         "Tom, look it's a limo!"
         Tom looked right away.
         "Caw!" Clarissa said, looking at it too.
         To their amazement, the limousine stopped right in front of the store. The shopkeeper, drying his hands off with a towel, walked out of his store, looking a little surprised, puzzled and bewildered all at once.
         Straightaway a woman emerged from the car. Julie immediately recognized her as being the same woman she had seen at the two previous story time gatherings. Graceful, calm and dignified, not seeming to notice anything else, she walked straight up to Tom and Julie's table.
         "You are the storytellers?" she asked, without any attempt at an introduction.
         "Yes, we are," Tom said, as Tom and Julie both instinctively rose to their feet in respect.
         "My name is Tom, and this is Julie, and our little girl, Clarissa."
         A wisp of a smile played about the woman's lips, as she took off her sunglasses to reveal beautiful dark brown eyes.
         "I am Fatuna, personal aide to Prince Akhmed, who would like to meet with you."
         Tom tried to remain calm, although inside, his stomach was knotting up with excitement. As Tom and Julie hesitated, looking at each other and then Fatuna, she continued, "Would now be convenient?"
         Tom, overcoming his speechlessness said, "W Why yes! Yes, of course! We would be honored."
         "Wonderful!" Fatuna said, giving them her first full smile.
         "You will be wanting a fresh change of clothes before you meet him."
         She half turned her head to a small man who had emerged from the car with her. After looking Tom, Julie and Clarissa up and down a few times, he scurried off into the marketplace and returned almost as quickly with a few large paper bags.
         Inside the limo, which was refreshingly cool, Fatuna offered both of them a cold drink and gave little Clari a lollipop. Julie smiled politely in thanks. Other than this show of hospitality, Fatuna was quiet for the rest of the journey.
         As they drove along the coast she noticed Tom and Julie looking out the window at the ocean and explained, "Prince Akhmed is residing at King Sahid's seaside palace."
         Tom and Julie smiled at her. They held hands together, each knowing that the other was also praying for the Lord to prepare them for whatever was going to happen.
         The limo rolled in the wide archway and through the stately gardens, around an oval-shaped lawn which held a fountain in the middle of it. It came to a stop at the wide, marble steps that led in to King Sahid's seaside retreat.
         Tall pillars supported the entrance. Everything was made of a cool beige marble. The whole mini-palace seemed to be open, as the refreshing sea breeze swept through the large lobby where the three waited while Fatuna disappeared down one of the hallways. Clari sat looking curiously at the brand new baby-stroller she was seated in, that the man with Fatuna had brought them. A maid emerged and showed Tom and Julie into a side room with an adjoining bathroom.
         Leaving the paper shopping bags, which Tom and Julie assumed held their new changes of clothes, she pointed to the showers and fresh towels, and told them they had half an hour, then left them. Tom and Julie looked at each other and heaved a sigh.
         "What has the Lord got planned for us?" Julie wondered aloud as she opened one of the bags, pulling out a loosely fitting outfit of white pants and a tunic for Tom. It was finely embroidered around the neck and the sleeves, which reached to his wrists. Digging through the other bags, Julie pulled out a similar garment with embroidery for herself, although instead of a shirt and pants this was a white, straight dress that reached to her ankles. She discovered a miniature version of the same for little Clari, as well as some shoes for each of them. Julie and Clari's shoes each ended in a little curly point and had colorful sequins sewn to them.
         "Amazing! He got our sizes just right!" Tom said, trying on his shoes after having showered.
         "Sure is!" Julie said, as she dried Clari's hair with a towel. "Wow! Even a hairbrush! He thought of everything!" Julie said, lifting little Clari onto the sink as she combed her curls, and then turned to the large mirror to comb her own hair.
         Shortly, they emerged from the side room to find Fatuna waiting for them.
         "Prince Akhmed and King Sahid will see you now." She motioned with her hand for them to follow, up the stairs and out to a large patio, framed by graceful, overhanging palm trees. A couple of colorful Birds of Paradise called cheerfully to each other.
         Julie felt nervous. She'd never met any royalty in her life, and now she was going to meet a prince and a king in one shot! Lord help Clari to be a good girl! she prayed, as she picked the toddling Clari up, to carry her the rest of the way.
         The king and the prince were facing the ocean, luxuriating in fancy cushioned deckchairs, beside platters of exotic food and wine. Fatuna stood before them and announced officially:
         "Your Highnesses, Tom and Julie, the storytellers, are here to see you."
         As they walked around within the king and the prince's view, Tom and Julie smiled. Not quite knowing what to do, they both bowed respectfully.
         "Please, please sit down!" the king said cordially, as servants brought up smaller deck chairs behind them.
         Julie set little Clari down in front of her. Standing hesitantly on her own feet, she smiled shyly at the king and the prince. Delighted, the king took a fig from one of the platters and held it out for her. Clari eagerly lunged forward, while her mother held her steady around the waist, to take the fig from the king's two fingers. She smiled brightly up at him.
         "What a delightful child!" the king exclaimed.
         "Thank you," Julie smiled gratefully.
         They both sat on the edge of their chairs a little nervously, as the king began to talk. "Welcome to my country. Where have you come from?"
         Tom cleared his throat and explained where they both were from, and how they had arrived in his country not long ago. He also explained that Julie was his wife and little Clarissa their daughter.
         "Wonderful, wonderful," the king said, not wanting to hear much more. He looked over at the prince, giving him permission to proceed.
         The prince resumed the conversation. "News has reached us of your storytelling abilities."
         Julie glanced over at Fatuna, who was looking a little more relaxed now.
         "Yes," Tom began, "well, it all began rather unexpectedly, actually, one day in the market square." Tom told the prince how they came to tell their first story in the marketplace, and how much the children had liked their stories.
         "Our parents told us many stories when we were children," Julie piped in with a smile.
         "I see," said the prince, glancing quickly towards the king. "Would you please tell us one of these stories?" he continued, folding his hands across his chest. "I would be most interested to hear one of them."
         Tom and Julie looked at each other, amazed at how these monarchs had already heard about their little storytelling gatherings, which--after all--hadn't been going on for very long.
         "Yes, of course!" Tom answered. "I would be happy to tell you one." He searched his memory, praying that the Lord would bring just the right story to mind for this situation.
         For a moment, the attention turned to Clari, who had wiggled off her mommy's lap and was curiously edging her way around the balcony railing toward an enormously large, yet seemingly docile German Shepherd, lazing in the sun by King Sahid's deck chair. As Clari approached the dog, she bent forward and reached out her dimpled hand towards the dog, as if wanting to make his acquaintance. The king smiled at this friendly display. Julie almost rose to get her when the king raised his hand. "Don't worry. Togo wouldn't hurt a fly," he said.
         Julie smiled and nodded at the king, praying a silent prayer that the Lord would protect Clari. Now she was gingerly bending down to touch one of his outstretched paws, and, being a little intimidated by the large, wet tongue lolling out of Togo's mouth, she crawled around to the side of Togo, and turning around, sat her little bottom right up against the dog's belly--who didn't flinch--and leaned back, putting her arms on him, as if he were a great big comfortable couch.
         "Ha!!" the king laughed, immensely amused by little Clari's boldness. "It looks as if your daughter has made herself a friend!"
         The momentary diversion had given Tom the time to think of a story to tell the king and the prince. After a moment of silence, Tom leaned forward. "This is a story," he began deliberately, "of a young prince, and the magical power that he had."
         As Tom began unfolding the events of the "fairy tale" about the young prince, and about his father and mother who sent him to a faraway land on a mission, Julie prayed, as she recalled the tract that Tom was recounting. Lord, please help him to remember it. Please anoint him.
         Tom related how the prince had set out at a very young age, on a secret mission. And how, though he looked just like other children did, everyone who came to know him knew that he was special, through the wisdom that he displayed, and the simple but very meaningful stories that he told them. He told others about his homeland, far away.
         In the meantime, Julie kept her eyes closely on Clari. She had fallen asleep, laying comfortably against big old Togo, to the delight of the king.
         Julie continued to listen to Tom's story, praying for him. He was adding in colorful details here and there that weren't in the tract, but which Julie could tell he was being supernaturally inspired with as he went along.
         Lord, what a wonderful opportunity for You to work here. Here are two powerful men who can influence whole countries of people. Please continue to anoint Tom. Help him not to be nervous. It's a story about You, so please show him how to best end it.
         Tom didn't end the story as the tract did, introducing the young prince as Jesus. He felt led, at this time, to keep it more general. He closed the story as if it were a fairy tale, with the young prince finally returning home to his parents, along with everyone who had believed in him and the simple words of truth that he had spoken.
         When Tom was done, there was a moment of silence, broken only by a few gulls calling to each other. Even the two chattering birds had become quiet now. Both the king and the prince seemed lost in thought. Who knows but that they too had felt called to help their people when they were young, similar to the prince in the story just related to them.
         Julie was startled from her thoughts and prayers by the prince rising to his feet. She looked over at Tom, wondering if they should also rise, but they both remained in their chairs. The prince strode to the railing and looked out over the ocean for several moments.
         "Yes. This is what we need," he said, more to himself than to anyone else. Pulling himself from his own deep thoughts, he turned to the king. "It's settled then?"
         The king nodded his agreement.
         The prince looked over at Tom and Julie. "Thank you for that story. And now," he took on a slightly more businesslike tone, "I have an invitation for you, to come home with me, to my kingdom, that you may tell these stories there to my people."
         Tom and Julie looked at each other, startled. They had had no idea this was coming.
         "Yes," the prince continued, "there is a great vacuum in my people, for " His sentence trailed off. He could not quite put into words what he wanted to express. "We feel that your stories could help to fulfill that need."
         "As you must know ," the prince looked intently into Tom and Julie's eyes, as he paused to reason within himself for a moment. These are good people; they could not have such a light in their eyes if they were subject to the great dictator.
         He began again, "We have tried to resist the influence and technology of this One World Government. But my people are in great need, for the International Powers are threatening to capture and enslave the hearts and the minds of my people. They must be given hope." The prince looked at them both again, almost pleadingly. "They must be given something to live for. You have something. I don't know what it is, but your stories are inspired. They have the power to touch those who hear them,"--with this he glanced at Fatuna--"with the deep truths that they hold. I know now, for they have touched me. So, will you come home with me?" The prince looked at Tom and Julie eagerly. He was not demanding. He did not even seem a prince at this moment. He was imploring them to come.
         Tom and Julie didn't hesitate another moment. "Yes, of course," they both agreed, and Tom continued, "Your Highness, we would be honored to be of service to you and your people, in any way that we can."
         The king added solemnly, "From what I have heard, I suppose my people will miss you greatly."
         Tom bowed his head gratefully to the king. "It has been our pleasure, Your Highness, to dwell in your country, and among your people. We will miss them also."
         The prince looked over at the king. "But this has endless possibilities! We could have a televised 'Story Time' program each day. Then everybody could benefit."
         Tom was a little startled and looked at Julie. They've only heard one story! he thought. Julie looked at him reassuringly, knowing that he must be thinking the same thoughts as she. Yet Tom knew, as he had from the first day that he had seen the prince in the procession, that this was the fulfillment of that mysterious dream that God had given him, and that this was all part of the plan He wanted to unfold.
         "Marvelous!" the prince said determinedly, "We must be getting back as soon as possible then. We'll leave in my private plane tomorrow!"
         Fatuna stepped forward. This was her cue to show them the way out. Tom and Julie stood at once and bowed deeply to the two Highnesses.
         "Grateful to be at your service," Julie said, sincerely.
         The king then bade them farewell, "May God continue to be with you both."
         Julie went forward to lift little Clari from her comfortable "bed" and Togo gave a small whimper as they walked away.
         Tom and Julie followed Fatuna away from the terrace, as she led them up yet another flight of stairs and showed them into a plush bedroom, complete with a king-size bed and an ornate chest of drawers. Off to the side they saw what looked like a luxurious, gold-colored bathroom.
         "You can sleep here tonight."
         Julie turned around, still holding Clari to her breast. "Thank you so much!"
         "No! Thank you," Fatuna replied emphatically. "Rest well." She smiled and closed the door.
         Julie slipped off her shoes to feel the plush carpet between her toes. "What a day! Thank You Jesus!"
         They looked at each other in amazement and both burst out laughing at the same time.
         "De Lawd works in mysterious ways!" Tom drawled slowly, still trying to grasp what had just happened and what it meant.
         "He certainly does!" Julie walked around the room, looking at the fine paintings and lovely fresh flowers that graced the vases here and there. There were fresh towels and thick terry-cloth robes folded neatly on the bed. Julie gently placed Clari under the covers in the middle of the wide bed.
         She and Tom hugged each other close. "Thank You so much, Jesus," Tom prayed, "for leading and guiding us, for being so good to us, for supplying our needs. Thank You for helping us to be tuned in to Your whispers!"
         "Amen," Julie continued. "Thank You for helping us to find favor in Prince Akhmed's sight. Please continue to anoint us, and help us to continue to look to You each and every day, and please lead and guide us as we embark on this new adventure!"

THE ADVENTURES OF LITTLE WHITE HAWK

Black Feather's Wedding
         Life as an Indian was not always peaceful and smooth. Living off the land involves a lot of hard work. We did not have the conveniences that many people have today. Our day began early with the rising of the sun, and ended when the sun set. We had many responsibilities, and the load was shared from the youngest to the oldest, each one doing their part to make our Indian village run smoothly and in harmony.
         It was my responsibility to help supply our village with needed water. We would take our horses to the river, fill our buffalo skins with water and bring them back to the village. I would go with Black Feather for this job. He was very faithful, teaching me to always be sure we had enough water, not only for the day's needs, but also for reserve. My job was to check the water supply and to let him know how we were doing, so that we would always have a good amount of water on hand.
         Black Feather would tell me, "Little White Hawk, you may not think this is an important job, but it is very important. You are learning to care for your people, and before you can be chief of the tribe, you must learn these basic needs of your people, to be sure that along with protecting them, you know how to take good care of them when you are a chief. Now you are learning the basics, and one day you will know all that is involved in order to take on the leadership of the tribe.
         "It is the Great Spirit in the Sky that leads us. Shawnee Indian protect their people. If we do not care for each other, we will have no future as a nation. You must not be ashamed or afraid to fight for what you know is right.
         "This is your warrior training. It begins with learning responsibility and how to carry it, and how to be faithful and diligent. This helps build the spirit of a man. These are the beginning steps to becoming a warrior, and they are necessary for him who would be chief of the tribe. So take heed."
         I would watch Black Feather each time we would go and fill the buffalo skins with water. I admired Black Feather, for he was a good warrior, and he had protected our people many times when we were attacked by warring tribes. And though he was a noted warrior among our tribe, he was faithful in this humble responsibility.
         Black Feather taught me many things. He was a humble chief, yet he was strong in the eyes of his people. From him I learned of many responsibilities. They made up the foundation of my training as a warrior--and as future chief of my people.

* * *

         Black Feather was well loved by his people. He had risen to the challenge of becoming the leader of our tribe upon the passing of my father, Great White Hawk. When he became chief, he had not yet taken a wife. And after that, his increased responsibilities did not leave him much time to pursue such matters. Black Feather took on his new role with pride and soberness. He was not one to seek after his own desires, but rather he put the care of his people foremost.
         Whenever Black Feather would walk through our village, the eyes of the people would look upon him with respect and great love. He had filled my father's moccasins* well, and I knew my father would be very pleased to see that his people were well cared for.
         But there was also concern among the tribe for Black Feather, because he did not have a wife. My mother would tell me, "Little White Hawk, it is not good that Black Feather is alone. He needs someone to care for him, for the burden of chief is a heavy burden to bear."
         My mother would go out of her way to help Black Feather whenever possible, and Black Feather would thank her for her kindness. When I would see him look at mother, his eyes were filled with great tenderness.
         One morning Black Feather came to our teepee, asking for my mother. "Little White Hawk, where is Shines-in-the-Sun?" (Shines-in-the-Sun was my mother's name. She received that name because of her beautiful black hair, long and shiny, which glistened in the sun.)
         "She is helping some of the women with sewing," I said.
         Then Black Feather told me, "Little White Hawk, your mother will go out riding with me this morning. We will be back when the sun is high is the sky. We will be near Two Hills if you should need us for any reason. I will leave word with Fast Arrow, and he will go with you to get me if something should go wrong."
         "Yes, Black Feather."
         Black Feather looked at me, "Little White Hawk, I have something to say to you. Can you keep this to yourself?"
         I looked at Black Feather, nodding a curious "yes." I wondered what it was he had to tell me.
         He squatted down to where I was sitting on the floor. "Little White Hawk, I am alone. I carry a big load as chief of this tribe. Many nights I am burdened and lonely. I need a companion, a friend, someone I can love, and who will love me. I have found someone who I believe can fill each of these needs. I ride out today with your mother because I am going to ask her to be my wife.
         "Little White Hawk, I have taken you in as a son since your father died, and I have become chief of this tribe. Now I have been training you to fulfill this role. I look upon you with great pride, as your father did. I hope that you will look upon me with favor in asking your mother to become my wife. I know that I will never take the place of Great White Hawk, your father. I know he loved your mother very much, and now I have grown to love her too, and want to take care of her. What do you think of this, Little White Hawk?"
         I looked into Black Feather's eyes, and I could see that the words Black Feather had spoken were sincere. When he spoke of my mother, there was gentleness in his voice; there was love in his eyes. As I thought about what he had said to me, the air about us was still and silent. Then a most peculiar happening took place. When I looked at the ground I saw the face of my father, Great White Hawk, smiling! Was it the Great Spirit in the Sky whose words I then heard?--"He is happy. He is pleased. Great White Hawk is pleased."--It was if my father wanted me to know that he approved. "Yes, Black Feather, I believe Father would be pleased, and I am pleased."
         We both stood up and hugged one another, as Black Feather clasped my shoulders in his hands.
         "Little White Hawk, the heart of the Wise One (that was another name for the Great Spirit) beats in your breast."
         "Thank you, Black Feather."
         Black Feather left the teepee. When I emerged from my teepee I could see him and my mother riding toward Two Hills. I felt my mother would be so happy to hear of the love that Black Feather had for her. I knew in my heart that Black Feather--and my mother--would return as one.

* * *

         When Black Feather announced to our tribe that he would take my mother for his wife, there was great happiness among our people. The following day would be the wedding feast. Our tribe would send out hunters to bring back fresh meat, and there would be a great wedding celebration. An Indian wedding is much different than White Man's wedding.
         That evening, Black Feather approached me and asked if I would want to join those who would go on the hunt for the feast. It was an honor to be asked to do so. I eagerly said, "Yes! I want to go!" Black Feather would stay back to prepare for the wedding ceremony.
         And so, early the next morning, he sent me on my way. I set out with a few others to hunt for deer. I rode with the experienced hunters from my tribe. I turned to Swift Feet, my friend, and said "Oh! How much I would like to kill a deer, a big one for the dinner! I would be so happy." Not only would it be a special gift to my mother and Black Feather, but for all the tribe. I wanted to show the others of my tribe that I had become a man, one who could handle the responsibility of providing for my tribe. A good hunter can walk proudly among his people.
         My father was a good hunter, and in my heart I silently spoke with him, "Father, please help me. Be my guide."
         To catch a deer takes skill. Once a deer has been spotted, the hunter must be very still, quiet and patient. Any sounds or sudden movements can easily scare the animal away. As we walked through the forested area, I could smell the dampness of the dew upon the leaves and underbrush. We quietly walked, watching, looking, patiently waiting to see any sign of deer nearby.
         Then suddenly, to my left, I saw a deer! I looked at the others; they had seen him too. We squatted quickly. I was closest to the deer, so the others motioned for me to shoot the first arrow. One sure straight shot would be enough, if done accurately.
         As the deer stood still, I selected my arrow and drew my bow. I heard my father's voice in my ear, "Little White Hawk. Wait! Not yet. Hold steady." Then he said, "Stand up!" I quickly stood up and took aim, and then I heard my father say, "Now, Little White Hawk! Shoot!" I let go of the arrow. Whooossh! It found its target and the deer fell. He was a big one.
         "Little White Hawk, good shot!" cried Swift Feet. "This deer is a good size to feed everyone for the feast!" I smiled at him, proud that I had been the one to help provide the food for this special day. But I knew that it was because my father was speaking to me, helping me and guiding me. It was as if he was right there,so close, so real.
         I remembered how the bear had wounded my father, and how I had cried out to the Great Spirit for His help. The Great Spirit had seemed so near and had provided the help I needed at that very moment. Now I had called out to my father in the same way, and he felt so near, too--just the same as when I cried out to the Great Spirit in the Sky. It was as if my father were not dead. My father had taught me to call out to the Great Spirit in the Sky like he did. But now this Great Spirit seemed so much closer than just in the sky, and I could not help but wonder about many things.
         I remembered Little White Tail, the young white girl who had come to our village, and how she had told me the name of their God, Jesus. They called the Great Spirit in the Sky, Jesus. Did this Jesus Spirit help them when they cried out to Him the same way the Great Spirit helped me? Could they hear the voices in their ear like I could?
         I had so many questions. I would have to talk to Black Feather about these things. But now we needed to go back to our village to prepare the wedding celebration.

* * *

         Soon we were back in the camp, and we cleaned and skinned the deer to prepare it for cooking. Others in the tribe prepared for the wedding ceremony. As night approached, and a campfire burned, the tribe gathered together. We all sat down.
         My mother emerged from our teepee. Indian women are so beautiful! Her hair was made into two braids with beads that lay against her breasts, and the rest of her hair flowed straight and long down to her waist. Her white buffalo dress was beautifully decorated with beads. It adorned her, showing her natural beauty. She stood barefoot, and wore a beaded anklet.
         She stepped forward to where Black Feather stood, and then they turned to face the people of the tribe. The fire burned behind them.
         Black Feather did not have his great headdress on as chief of the tribe, but he wore two simple black feathers that hung flat down the back of his head. They were fastened with two beads to his hair. He was dressed in buffalo-skin pants and wore moccasins. He wore no shirt, but around his neck hung a beaded ornament of majestic colors, which lay flat on his chest.
         Black Feather spoke: "Black Feather and Shines-in-the-Sun come before Shawnee tribe for a blessing on their union. We seek the blessing of the Great Spirit in the Sky. We seek the blessing of the people."
         The people cried out, "E sha e nay nay! E sha e nay nay!" (Live as one!) "Kee taw e nay nay! Kee taw e nay nay!" (Be as one!)
         Then Black Feather placed a beautiful beaded necklace around my mother's neck. Likewise, my mother did the same to him. Black Feather then spoke again: "We come before You, O Great Spirit in the Sky. We ask You to bless our union."
         Then three of the warriors of our tribe and their wives circled around Black Feather and my mother, waving branches of fragrant herbs. They sang an Indian chant: "Great Spirit, bless this union! Great Spirit, bless this union!"
         Then my mother took Black Feather's hand in hers and raised it to her lips, kissing it softly. Black Feather took my mother's hand within his strong hands and raised it to his lips, where he placed a loving kiss on her hand. As they faced each other, they held each other's hands, raised them together to their chest, and Black Feather kissed my mother. All the tribe yelled out with shouts of approval.
         That night we had dancing, food, laughter and great happiness. Black Feather was proud and thanked me for having killed the deer we had for our dinner. It was a joyful occasion. All of us slept well that night, happy for the union of Black Feather and my mother.

Definitions included throughout booklet:
         * serene: calm, unaffected by disturbances
         * ritual: a ceremony or act usually repeated in the same way
         * benevolent: kindly; prone to do good
         * devised: formed; designed
         * chapel: a small church
         * hostility: feelings of hate or dislike
         * cooperating: working or acting together
         * schemes: secret or devious plans
         * laboring: straining; using great effort
         * nurtured: nourished; fed
         * dialect: a variety of a language, differing by pronunciation, grammar or vocabulary
         * air raid: attack by military aircraft, usually with bombs and rockets
         * monsoon: a wind from the southwest or south that brings heavy rainfall to southern Asia in the summer
         * perilous: dangerous
         * spent: worn out; depleted of energy and strength
         * ominous: threatening
         * lurking: sneakily lying in wait
         * disheveled: messy, disorderly
         * whirligig: any of various spinning toys
         * moccasin: common native American Indian shoe, made of soft leather

[End]


Copyright (c) 1998 by Aurora Productions