When He shall come with trumpet sound,
Oh, may I then in Him be found,
Clothed in His righteousness alone,
Faultless to stand before the throne!
On Christ, the solid Rock, I stand;
All other ground is sinking sand.
These lyrics stirred my soul today, and while we don’t know the moment they will pass from expectation to experience, we do know this. Today, we can stand before His altar in worship. For me, it’s #pointofmercy, wherever it is for you, I encourage you to make your way to the place of His feet this morning!
After I slammed the laptop shut, almost immediately, there was a knock at the door. Have you ever seen a spy? Until that night, I had these images of some suave, rugged guy, but that’s not what ours looked like.
He looked more like an Uncle you see at Weddings and reunions. White hair, blue eyes, gold glasses, and a gray pinstriped suit. He showed his credentials. They looked good, but I had never seen a spy’s license before, so who knew.”
If he got to our door, that meant he had been cleared by security. I wondered why they hadn’t alerted me, but he explained. “I didn’t want them to interrupt your meeting. Yes, I know about it, my name is Sam Madison, U.S. Intelligence.”
That last part sounded phony, and he knew it by my face. “I really am with U.S. Intelligence, Tom. My work involves multiple areas of U.S. interest. I think I can prove it to you.” Just then, the phone rang.
I’ll confess, I half expected to be talking to anyone from the President to the Secretary of State, but not my own cousin. “Tom, is he there yet? He’s legit, the Commissioner vouched for him. They’re old buddies from the Commissioner’s war days, no, I didn’t ask.”
“Thanks Joe, how did you know when to call?” “He told me what time, apparently this guy’s good.” I hung up the phone, offered him a cup of coffee and we sat down.”
“Thanks for the coffee, a good blend. You know, it’s sort of a habit of mine. Ive had coffee from Jerusalem to the Seychelles, and my favorite brew is still from my hometown shop in Astoria.”
“It’s probably because you don’t get there much. How are you Sam?” Otecko knew him? This was getting too weird for me. “Close your mouth Tomás, he’s a second cousin. I’m guessing that’s why you’re on this case?”
“I’m good, though a little concerned. This Rastilav is a nuisance. At his best, he’s like a good decaf … doesn’t exist.” We laughed, he knew his audience in more ways than one. “I think I can get him to leave you alone. Of course, it will be a little involved, and slightly dangerous, but I’ve seen worse.”
He may have, we hadn’t. I didn’t make that connection at the time, not until a couple of guys tried to adjust my height with a chainsaw. If I had known about the next week, I may have rethought accepting help from the man from Astoria.
What does a squirrel dream of? In those cold, winter months when the snow covers everything like a favorite comforter from your Grandmother? Does he dream of swashbuckling adventures, or does he imagine he’s the one driving the car? Who knows, but we do know one thing, he’s prepared to dream.
He spent the time before the first smell of cold, gathering and preparing. He is a resource gatherer. His family, small or large, has enough to eat. Their tree is warm and strong. It doesn’t really matter what his dream is about, but that he’s prepared to daydream.
Today, regardless of the cold expectations you face, take some time, prepare to dream. Yes, your storehouse could have been fuller, and no, maybe you can’t spend the winter resting. Still, we can prepare ourselves this morning, to dream of a better future.
Because if you dream, then you know what resources are needed. We may not know the subconscious mind of the squirrel, but we know that, by nature, even his rest is serving a purpose. It’s getting him ready to face a busy spring, preparing for whatever happens next.
I’m so excited, currently four of our PruittWrites books are available in paperback! They are our two Bible Commentaries, Ruth The Book Of The Friend, and Famous: The Lumberjacks Of Solomon, the adventure Alaskan Silver, and our first novella, The Polar Bear’s Typewriter. We plan for more to follow, and they’re all available @ www.amazon.com/author/pruittwrites now.
I slammed the laptop shut and cut the video feed. Rastilav had arranged the skype session, hoping to scare us into submission. His pride got the better of him, and ended with the opposite. Here is how it happened.
“I see you’ve met Marika Sokol, pity. I’ll have to admonish her, she’s slipping, you’re still breathing.” Then, as if he’d said nothing more than if he had complained about the weather, sipped his tea. I took a drink of my coffee, and tried to think of a heavy response.
Otecko did it for me. “A charming threat, but don’t pretend Mr Ambassador. You are glad she failed, or else you would be her target. Maybe not for a bullet, at least not right away, but she would have put herself ahead in the battle for your group’s leadership.”
His cheeks turned red, but he caught himself before he responded. “There are some in my group that are like you Americans and your coffee. You are over caffeinated actors who jump when you should use patience.”
It was a deliberate insult, designed to attack our country, our business, and our abilities, but it didn’t work. What Louis Rastilav missed was the American resolve. He meant to throw us off, instead he triggered something else.
Otecko didn’t move, knowing I had this. “Mr Rastilav, regardless of what you think, I can promise you one thing. You call us actors, so I’ll stay with the analogy. In a movie, the guy who says the last word before the credits roll is the winner. I can promise you, the last words in this play we’ll be read by a coffee loving American!”