Cloud by Day, Fire by Night

iUniverse, Inc.

Contents

Foreword...................................................................viiDedication.................................................................xiPreface....................................................................xiiiChapter One – A Quiet Gentle Spirit..................................1Chapter Two – Journey To Yahweh......................................9Chapter Three – The Prodigal Father..................................16Chapter Four - Forgiveness.................................................23Chapter Five – Appointed: Anointed...................................27Chapter Six – The Royal Decree.......................................35Chapter Seven – A New Awakening......................................42Chapter Eight – Yahweh Emmanuel......................................49Chapter Nine – A Willing Heart.......................................56Chapter Ten – A Jesus Way Of Life....................................64Chapter Eleven – The Godly Vigil.....................................72Chapter Twelve – Abiding Comfort.....................................80Chapter Thirteen - Eternal.................................................86Chapter Fourteen – A Father's Touch..................................92Chapter Fifteen – The Tribute........................................98Epilogue...................................................................105Appendix Christmas Story Competition: John's Christmas.....................110Preview Chapters from The Revelation: I Knew Him Then......................113God Is In The Numbers .....................................................126References, Notes, Resources and Links.....................................144

Chapter One

Scene One

It was a dismal, drizzly dreary day and I had just returned from the Courthouse in Denton, Texas following a dismal dreary divorce hearing. The world as I knew it, had perceived it, had lived it, had suddenly and cataclysmally imploded on me.

At fifty-two years of age, sitting alone on the only piece of furniture in an apartment hurriedly rented from the two thousand dollars with which I had been sent away, I pondered my fate.

Gone was a beautiful wife. Two wonderful sons (7 and 5 at the time). A beautiful home. Twenty-plus years as devoted husband and father.

Gone was a well-paying job. At fifty-two it would be a real struggle to get back on that fast track. Gone was the neighborhood cadre of friends that suburban families tend to draw themselves to; friends as long as the family unit survives, but when the family separates, different story.

Gone was the two-income lifestyle so prevalent amongst families throughout the nineteen-nineties. Gone forever was any familial relationships with my in-laws and assorted relatives. Gone was the daily joy of watching and helping my boys develop and grow. Somebody else would enjoy that pleasure, I thought sadly.

Staring vacantly out the curtain-less window as the drizzle turned to a steady downpour, I began to take stock of my life.

My avaricious nature and greed to live the so-called American Dream had destroyed the very nature of my being – Family. I was unemployed, somewhat scared (yes, scared) my mind filled with trepidation. The thought of starting over chilled me as I wondered about how and what, I was going to do next.

Whatever family ties I had (all in-laws, since my lone sister and her family were living in England) were gone. Friendships, since they were all neighborhood or job-related, gone. Daily interaction with my boys – gone.

This wasn't self-pity mind you, this was reality staring me in the face, and I didn't like myself or what I was seeing.

My mind was in a stupor, everything had happened so fast.

Quite a legacy don't you think. Fifty-two years without developing one single friend to call within the whole world?

I had never felt so abandoned and alone in all my life.

Scene Two

To a great degree, divorce is worse than death. You have two survivors, one who is hurt more than the other, and I have yet to meet any divorced partner who can honestly say that it was mutually agreeable. There's always one who wants out, while the other wonders what went wrong, how and why, so fast. Unfortunately, I've been on both sides of that fence and know very well of what I write.

Don't love you anymore. It's over. Get over it. Move on ...

Words so easy off the tongue, but not so easy to digest or comprehend. Especially to the one who still wants in. And especially when there are children who are survivors.

So you find yourself in a situation that's over but it's not over, except the relationship changes. Changes from one of intimacy (in its broadest sense that is, not in terms of sexual intimacy) to one of aloof estrangement, the children becoming a tenuous spider-web connection to an emotional memory-bank. A part of your life, yet not a part of your life, especially when you don't have custody.

At once, a court order bars you from any contact with your own children without consent. Cut off from spontaneous contact with the very people you brought into the world. Cut off from developing close family ties, as if a two-day weekend sojourn together would make up for all those missed bedtime readings and hugs, those morning drop-offs at school, the help with the homework, developing ball skills for soccer, a behind-the-back basketball pass, or a space-shot fastball. Suffering through music lessons, watching school plays, reading good report cards.

Watching them ... Grow.

Meanwhile mom and dad act like long-lost lovers who ran into each other at a grocery check-out, desperately trying not to step over any perceived boundary line that may ignite a twenty- year emotional bonfire which just might get them back together again. An uneasy, semi-formal behavior-pattern emerges, broken occasionally when one or both of the boys comes running into your embrace for a heart-felt hug. A genuine hug. A loving hug. A meaningful hug. Then back to mom and whoever for the rest of the week.

In death, au contraire, you cremate or bury the body, eulogize the person, think fond and happy memories about them, close the door then move on. But divorce ... the victims survive.

Scene Three

As I contemplated my fate, little did I realize that in the weeks and months to follow, my job search and "sorry, don't need" responses would seemingly go on endlessly, my phone would be cut off, my car re-possessed, and my subsistence, to say the least, would be meager at best; the day would come, and finally did, when I would be evicted from this very apartment.

The only mail I ever received were collection notices or legal summonses, some attached to the door for all the world to see.

Eventually I went bankrupt with total worldly possessions of the clothes on my back, whatever was hanging in the closet, and a twenty-five dollar net worth which was listed as "briefcase and contents."

As one who had experienced the exhilaration and rewards of professional sports, the perks and privileges of a high-flying business executive, the so-called prestige and position that such a lifestyle allows you to enjoy, my...