Current Projects: Adam Rise, Thy Mansion Wants Thee

Adam Rise, Thy Mansion Wants Thee; the title is taken from Milton's Paradise Lost.

 Marshal Henry meets with a group of four young fathers every other week as sort of a mentor. After one of these men tells him about his teenage son losing a key wrestling match because he obeyed the rules of his upbringing and refused to fight a girl (one opponent was female), the Professor (as Marshal is affectionately called by those he mentors), takes the opportunity to introduce this small group to the long established reality of authentic manhood….a reality that he believes is under siege and in danger of being eradicated.  And for his study guide, he has chosen over twenty classic poems from such renowned poets as Rudyard Kipling, William Shakespeare, Berton Braley, Elizabeth Browning, John Milton,  Jack London, Percy Shelly, William Blake, and many more that lend concrete imagery to what masculinity has always been understood to be.  The areas of conversation deal with purpose, character, war, love, altruism, faith, and more. So sit in with the Professor and his mentees while they pour over great poetry in search  what authentic manhood really looks like.

Possible release: Fall 2020

Current Projects--THOUSAND ACRE LAWN: Five Inspirational Shorts

THOUSAND ACRE LAWN: Five Inspirational Shorts

Never Such A Scholar (title from Henry V by Shakespeare)  follows the lives of the residents of a fourplex.  All have colorful pasts and colorful ways of coping with the consequences of their past.


Thousand Acre Lawn narrates a 'penny for your thoughts' moment stolen by a couple traveling south through the picturesque rolling hills of north-central Texas.  In this moment, inspired by the beauty of the landscape, they unfold the tapestry that has been, is now, and will be their life together in all its struggle and joy.

Tower of Connor offers a 'fly on the wall' experience in a hedonistic sales office where the boys brag about their toys and the girls play 'one-upmanship' against them.

Stairs In The Night walks with a  former bar bouncer and operator as he struggles with the demands of his new Christian faith, the consequences of a colorful past filled with highly questionable choices, and the disintegration of his family.

Paris is Magic…Right? Cassie Merryweather has the opportunity to travel around the world with a stop in Paris for what she expects to be a romantic rendezvous with future potential.  The magic of Paris; however, proves to be as unpredictable as the relationships we so ardently pursue.  

Possible Release: Fall 2020

All Five Books Availalbe in Print and Kindle

All five books are available in print and Kindle Formats:

Suffer the Slings and Arrows

Who Gives This Woman

TTHE WIND TRILOGY:
Where the Wind Begins
Where the Wind Will
Wings of the Wind        

See: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B005FX2JD8                        

From: Who Gives This Woman by Wayne Wilson; Available on Aamzon

Chapter Fifteen

Blanco

            “One…..two…….three……four…...” counted Allen and Jamaal as Tom strained at the 150 pound barbell he was pumping while lying on the weight bench.

              ”OK,” said Gavin to his foster dad, “you said that you would tell me how things were going in my, my situation.”

“Mr. Barnard and I discovered that one of our witnesses was injured in the fray.”

“Hunter,” reported the teenager.

“That’s right,” said Randal somewhat surprised.  “How did you know?  You didn’t mention it in your rendition of the events you gave us the other day.”

“Fifteeeen, come on you can do it,” cried the spotters.  “Sixteeeeen”

“I thought that I heard Hunter cry out expressing something that was more than just a battle cry.  Your bringing up the injury thing reminded me of it.  He must have gotten into some of the broken glass.”

“Beat that!” challenged Tom to his spotters as he jumped off the bench.           

“Four stitches worth,” answered Randal.  “He had it wrapped up pretty good.”

“So how did he explain the injury?  What did he tell his grandpa?” asked the recovering delinquent.

”Tweeeeeelve, thirteeeen…..don’t stop!”

“He made up something about some tin on a shed…very plausible actually,” admitted Randal as he and Gavin watched the competition. “But, hopefully, I planted some fertile seeds of discord and destruction that could bring the whole thing down on their heads.   I cannot tell you where it will go from here or promise that everything will work out.

“Not bad, but watch this and weep,” said Allen as he settled on the bench.

“Oh, that is just great,” cried Gavin as he raised his arms in the air several times as if signaling a touchdown.  “So what did Hunter actually say?”

“Nothing.”

“NOTHING!”

“Nothing.  Hunter said that he could not tell me anything because he was not there and his grandfather quickly ushered me out after it was clear that Hunter was not going to talk,” Randal reported as Allen finished his reps.  “But, on the way down the driveway I sent a text to Ben’s cell phone informing him that I just had a talk with Hunter who shared some interesting information about all the blood on the floor in the lab.  I then requested that he call me……”

“Where did you get his phone number?” asked Gavin.

‘I have my ways,” answered the foster dad.  “Anyway, I did manage a hint to both boys that Mr. Barnard will be conducting DNA testing on the blood left on the floor…”

“DNA!! He is going to test…..”

“No,” replied Randal.  “I embellished a bit on that one.  Hopefully the seeds of instability have been planted and the conspirators will soon crack…..”

“Thirteeeeeeen, Fourteeeeeen,” counted the spotters as Tom strained again at the weight on his second round.

“I explained my suspicions to Skip and asked him to hold off on issuing any conclusions on the matter until we talk to everyone involved.  He is going to call the boys into his office in a couple of days to talk about a ‘report’ [he made a quotation gesture with his fingers] that just came in. It seems as if he may believe our story, but I have not exactly asked him where he stands.  I plan to go up there to be a ‘witness’ as he interrogates the kids…..Hey, you guys are going to have to add 100 pounds to that if you expect it to do me any good,” said Randal as he prepared to go under the weight.

“What am I supposed to do in the mean time?” asked Gavin exasperated.

“Well, you can’t go back to school till this is resolved one way or the other, but Terri has called all your teachers—even Mr. Hitchins--and they have agreed to email your assignments every day till we get this cleared up,” explained Randal as he settled back on the bench.  “Terri can be very diplomatic.”

“If I get expelled, I’m toast…out of here….gone,” protested Gavin. 

“And I cannot guarantee that you won’t be, but I can guarantee that I will have your back all the waaaay.”  Randal spoke that last word as he lifted the bar and weights off the rack and proceeded to pump. 

 “One, two, three….,” sang the spotters as Gavin turned and headed out the door.

“After Randal showed off a bit on the bench he went in search of Gavin.  He found the boy out by the punching bag in the back sitting on another one of the homemade deck chairs.  There were about six of these along with a bench all placed in a circled around the fire pit.  The pit was about 8 feet in diameter, dug down a bit, and surrounded by large rocks.  This area not only served as a place where Randal came to burn off steam on the hanging bag,  but it also served as an evening gathering spot where folks could gather around a blazing fire to chat or sing (church folks have been gathering to sing for centuries).  As a matter of fact, the youth group was out here last evening so there were still some hot coals deep under the ashes.  It was about 38 degrees this evening.  Randal came out, threw some kindling sticks and some logs in the pit, stuffed some newspaper down underneath, and poked at it a few seconds till a flame appeared.  It was not long till a full-fledged fire was burning.   Then he sat in one of the chairs and said nothing for about five minutes.

“I am just one observer here, but from what I have seen, circumstances do not really ever get easier.  Chances are, buddy, that the older you get, the more pressing the circumstances become.”

“If that is your way of encouraging me, then I think you are going the wrong way here.  Weren’t you supposed to say, ‘Cheer up, things will get better,’ observed Gavin.

“Only God can make a prediction like that, son” responded the adult.  “I’m good, but not that good.”

“I really did not want to move out here in the sticks, but it hasn’t turned out all that bad.  I can’t believe that I am worried about having to leave.”

“The Hill grows on people.  Once you have stayed here a little while, you will never be able to leave altogether.  There will always be a part of you that stays,” explained Randal.

“I want all of me to stay,” confessed Gavin.  “Do you think God wants that?  Surely He does not want me to go back to the city, back to juvee.”

“I cannot, nor can anyone, profess to know the heart of God in that matter,” said Randal.  “But the one thing that I do know about God is that He wants you to know Him.  That can be accomplished anywhere on the planet….even in the darkest jail cell.  If it helps any, Terri and I do not want you to leave either.”

At this point Randal got up and went over to a metal cabinet that looked as if someone had just discarded it under the large mesquite tree on which the punching bag hung.  The galvanized cabinet was rusted and leaning to one side.  Apparently the legs on one side were missing and someone had placed rocks under that side as substitute legs.  Still the rocks were not tall enough to make it level.   The door to the cabinet was secured with a combination lock.  Randal opened the door, pulled out a copper box whose lid was hinged and latched.  The man then lifted a cigar out of it!  He put the smaller container back into its vault, re-secured the cabinet, walked over to the fire, and lit the cigar before relaxing back into the deck chair.   With feet stretched out as far as he could stretch them and his head tilted back as far as it would tilt, Randal took a drag on the cigar and blew a long stream of smoke at the stars above. 

“I bought these overseas years ago and paid an enormous amount for them.  My intentions were to share them in celebrating the wedding of my daughter and the birth of my first grandchild.  I admit that I have dipped into my stash a few times and felt a bit guilty at the indulgence, but now that there is no need for any celebrating along those lines, there is no need to hold back when I want a relaxing smoke.”

“Does Miss Terri know about this?” asked Gavin almost aghast at the sight of an adult smoking in real life.  While he had not lived a sheltered life by any stretch of the imagination, it appears that his benefactors were anal about protecting him from the evils of smoke.  Randal, on the other hand was a bit rebellious at all the pop culture trends especially the busy bodies who felt it was their mission to protect us from all the sharp objects in life.  One of his favorite movies is Apollo 13 and one of his favorite scenes in that flick is the shot of the control room where all the engineers are smoking in front of their control consoles-- all of which  have some sort of ash tray resting on them.  “It is a wonder the human race ever survived before the Department of Health and Human Services (and lawyers) ever came along,” he often joked to himself.   Randal doesn’t smoke regularly and he doesn’t recall ever buying a pack of cigarettes.  Constantly filling ones lungs with smoke cannot be healthy. Everyone knows that and they have always known it.   Still, trying to create a germ free, risk free, pain free, recession free totally comfortable existence leads to a race that is vulnerable to a universe that will always refuse to have all the hills lowered and the valleys raised.   He would rather see the Marlborough man on TV rather than a metro-sexual pawning male body washes.

“Are you serious?” Randal snapped smiling, feigning irritation.  “The last thing I would ever want to do is sneak around behind that woman’s back.   Most of the time, when I am out here enjoying these expensive things, she is right here next to me.”

“So, how does one go about knowing God?” asked Gavin still pondering what Randal said earlier about what God wants and secretly celebrating the man’s statement that he and Miss Terri did not want Gavin to leave the Hill especially after that lab thing and all.  

“Still working on that, son, but I can tell you that it is no different from trying to get to know another individual.  You get to know their friends.  You read their letters.  You talk with them. You listen to what they have to say.  You try to be around them as much as possible….stuff like that.”

“Do you pray, Mr. Randal?” asked the young inquirer.

“I am praying right now, Gavin.  I am asking God to open your young heart to the answers that will satisfy the question you asked about knowing Him.”

“You’re not praying that all this mess will go away?” asked the teenager almost incredulous.

“Things have often not worked out very well for me when the circumstances seemed to be crashing in around over my head and I did a lot of praying along the lines as you just suggested.  Fortunately I had men around me who understood that God was not some grand puppeteer constantly manipulating us around all the obstacles in life.  In the midst of some very trying times I was taught that God uses—not necessarily causes---trials to drive us into His arms, for it was there (safe within those arms) in which we were made to abide.  It is there where true escape and rest occur.  And you know what, Gavin; it appears that what those men taught me is the truth.  My prayers for resolution were never really answered, but I can honestly say that what I was really praying for, Joy with a capitol ‘J’, is being realized.”

Gavin just had a blank look on his face and Randal just knew that he must have looked the same to Morris and Pastor Mark as they tried to teach Him this truth.

“Do you have a place you call home, Gavin, that place you long to return, that place where all the world fades into the background, where nothing seems to intrude and nothing else matters but enjoying that one spot?”

The boy remained quiet for a few seconds as he pondered an answer to his foster dad’s question.  In the meantime, Jamaal had come out and quietly settled into one of the chairs.  He just stared into the flames not wanting to interrupt the discussion that Gavin and Randal were having.  He did hear Randal’s question though and was searching the recesses of his mind trying to find that spot that Randal was asking about.

“No, I can’t think of such a spot, but there are vague memories of a warmness and smell.    This happens sometimes when I feel alone, or if I need a place to run away, or if I see parents loving on their children….not all the time but sometimes.  As a matter of fact, it is coming on me right now as if it were real.  I told this to one lady when I was very young and she told me it was my mind remembering the hugs of my mother.”  He turned his head away momentarily to hide wiping away tears.  “So every time it happens, I feel…” He couldn’t think of the word. 

“Mothered,” said Jamaal.

“Yeah, that’s it.  I feel as if I have a mother who will hug all the loneliness away.  I don’t even remember anything about my parents, but obviously, my mind still remembers something.  It brings me some comfort to believe that they had to have loved me a lot.” 

“Well, I remember my parents and I know that they do not love me,” answered Jamaal.  By now Allen and Tom had seated themselves by the fire and Terri was walking out toward the gathering.  Having seen the flames she knew that some group was enjoying the cool, quiet evening outside on the Hill.

Jamaal continued.  “I cannot think of such a place either except to take a place and put it with a time.  The day Grammy bought me that first bicycle is the time I remember as the most safe, the most fun, the most joyful time in my life.  I think back on that and I can still recall thinking that I was totally complete.  Time could have stood still right then and all would have been perfect with the universe.  Oh, then to recall getting on that little shiny bicycle and having the wind rushing my face as if I were going 100 miles per hour…..”

“We were talking about prayer and knowing God and I asked Gavin if he had a place where he called home….that utterly safe and comfortable place where the pressures and trials of the world just fade away,” reported Randal as he filled the new comers in on the topic at hand.

“My grandmother’s kitchen,” sounded Tom breaking the short silence that followed Randal’s update.

“Right now, I can smell the aroma of arroz, frijoles, tortillas, tamales, tacos carnes, and taste that cold leche dulce….delisioso!”

“There is nothing, absolutely nothing better than homemade flour tortillas made in the kitchen of someone who knows what they are doing,” said Terri.

“I can smell those smells and then I hear and see family mingling all about talking, laughing, kids running,” Tom continued.  “Life can’t reach me there.”

“Tom, you have a very old, very rich, very upright, very strong family,” said Terri.  “You have so much more than any boy we’ve had come through here.  I hope the Hill helps you to take advantage of that great blessing so that you can continue to build on that great foundation laid by your ancestors.  There will be other boys who will need what has been given to you with whom you can share.”

Tom silently nodded in agreement while staring into the flames.

“Where is your special place, Miss Terri?”  Asked Jamaal. 

“Relaxing in my bathtub,” she answered.  “It is a very nice, large garden tub decorated almost in accordance with my fondness wishes, but that is not what creates that special place for me.  It has mostly to do with the fact that I have a husband who built it for me because he cherishes me.  I can sit there in the privacy, the safety, the quiet, and ponder the fact that God has given me a man who thinks of me as his treasure….a treasure to whom he daily gives himself; indeed, a treasure he would give up everything for; a treasure he has committed to protect and provide for with all his power.   Randal has constructed a certainty deep in my soul that if he did not have the means to build that tub, he would sorely grieve the fact and nothing would hinder his diligence in exercising every practical—he is a practical man—extreme in lavishing upon me all that he could afford…..even if it was simply his ever-present devotion….all this, not because he thinks that these things are all that great, but because he thinks that I am great.   And I pray that I will be forever worthy of that devotion.  Unlike the first two men in my adult life, I know that this man [she extended her hand, palm up in Randal’s direction], my adoring husband, will be with me till his last breath.  Women need that.  You boys remember this when a young lady comes into your life.  So where is your spot dear?” she asked Randal with a smile enhanced by the glow of the fire, a smile that had the capacity to melt him where he sat.

“Right here.  Here on the Hill is my spot to run to when life invades with a vengeance.  I have done it for decades.  Even from the other side of the planet, I could come here in my mind, breath this clean fresh air, hear the cattle, see the hills, smell the river, feel the dry crunchy ground beneath my feet.”

“And this brings me to the point I was going to make.   These places of safety that we all run to in times of struggle are phantoms of a  reality we’ve lost…..a reality to which we all desperately  wish to return and that awaits the diligent.  The process of getting to know God is the same as the process of coming home….striving for that place where we are most at peace, the place that fits us and we fit it, that place where we were made for.  It is the same process because we were made to rest in the arms of the One who created us.  That is our true home.  Therefore, the most effective way to deal with life at its most destructive times is to more vigorously continue that journey home.  Do not take detours by praying to have everything fixed, because there will be another malady waiting with the turn of the next day, or the next week, or the next month.  You need to be home. I heard a preacher (8) say that when we pray, we visit our true home and I could not agree with him more,” closed Randal as he reached out to grab Terri’s hand.  “Well, I think it’s time for this old guy to go home…..home to the bed, that is.   You coming, Gorgeous?”

“How can I refuse an invitation such as that?” she said as they both stood.

“See you boys tomorrow,” said Randal as he and Terri walked back to the house hand in hand.

On The Wings of the Wind: On Sale, Amazon

On the Wings of the Wind

Here now is the third and final installment of the Wind series that began with Where the Wind Begins.  In that volume character and narrative were used to describe and contrast the two approaches to life depicted in Ecclesiastes and Philippians.  This was accomplished mainly in the persons of one multi millionaire-- Malcolm Richardson--and one religious refugee from Iran—Dr. Morv Areed (Moreen) Hassani.

  In the series we witness the dark, cynical epitome of the worldly and wealthy aristocrat of Ecclesiastes (Mr. Richardson) meet up with the joy and hope of the Epistle to the Philippians (Mrs. Hassani).  And in a process that travels through all three books and beyond, Malcolm is transformed from an apathetic, agnostic, and detached father to a more relational position in both the spiritual and the familial aspects of his life…all this resulting from Moreen’s joy and hope assisted by Malcolm’s discovery of great works of literature.  Three of these works (King Lear, Paradise Lost, and The Confessions) are dealt with at length in each volume respectively. 

 Wings of the Wind will continue to explore the ongoing relational conflicts inherent in a large family.    Malcolm is thrice divorced with kids and grandkids from all three marriages.  He and His ex-wife Sybil’s relationship closed with a kiss in the second installment, Where the Wind Will, and continues to gel in this volume as does his previously strained relationship with Todd, his youngest son.   The relationship between Malcolm’s stepdaughter, Dana, and Moreen’s  only surviving son, Omid will move forward.  And the marital strain between Malcolm and Sybil’s oldest daughter, Alicia, and her husband, Tom, will continue to plague as those two deal with their financial success inadvertently following in her father’s footsteps.

Another exploration continuing from the first volume is the liturgical journey upon which the characters continue to embark as they experience God through the traditional and ancient patterns of worship initiated by God through Moses, adapted by the synagogue, carried over into the first century church gatherings, and preserved for centuries in the high church traditions.

Suffering in general and the persecuted church specifically is also an area that the Wind series looks into.   The second book closed with a harrowing hostage development in Columbia, which, in the third book (the volume before you) will affect the entire cast of characters,  deeply challenging their ideas of security, comfort, and even God’s goodness.

Who Gives This Woman: On Sale Now-Amazon

Who Gives This Woman

 

Christianity is replete with paradoxes—give to receive, sacrifice to gain, die to live.   It is how God set up His eternal economy and established it as the means by which He would rescue the Universe from its fallen state.  Indeed, He willingly submitted Himself to this system for it was His love, surrender, commitment, and sacrifice that established forever our way of escape from the misery of Adam’s error now and on into that great city meant for our habitation when God closes the door on this era. 

Randal Simpson, a divorced Dad who has (as much as humanly possible) done everything right.  Still, he loses custody of his adopted daughter, Amber, to her manipulative mother who abandoned the family for six years searching for fame and fortune.  The ex-wife succeeds in completely severing father and daughter for almost two decades.  Randal, under the direction and encouragement of Christian community, comes to understand that his first and foremost responsibility is to provide for and protect the child who carries his name even if he is forced to do so in absentia. 

In Spite of the poison dished out by her ever vindictive mother, Amber is haunted by the natural desire to discover the man whose name she bears.  This desire eventually takes her on a transforming (and trying) journey over a three month period that takes her (resistant all the way) back in time and across state lines.  In the end, though, it will be her father’s love, surrender, commitment, and sacrifice that brings about healing, reconciliation and renewal.

 

 

On Sale: Where the Wind Begins

On Sale: Amazon

WHERE THE WIND BEGINS

Book 1 of 3

 Where the Wind Begins is the first of three installments (Where the Wind Will—2^nd installment—is available on Amazon) where I have taken the sentiments of these two books and placed them in two characters.  Morv Areed (Moreen) Hassani is a lady in her mid fifties who has suffered great losses—family and fortune--as a result of the bloody conflict between her home country of Iran and that of Iraq.   She was forced to leave a promising international medical career and her country as a result of religious persecution….she is a Christian.  In the states she lives out her faith as part of a local Eastern Orthodox fellowship.

Malcolm Richardson (Ecclesiastes) is a multi-millionaire (in his late fifties) who had retired early.  He has everything he can buy and is board with it all.  The man has made tremendous mistakes with his family throughout the years and is now suffering the consequences of those relational mishaps. 

The title comes from Solomon describing life as a “chasing after the wind”.  Malcolm Richardson feels that his life is as Solomon describes it.  Moreen, who runs a café frequented by Malcolm, informs the millionaire that this may be true for him, but she knows where the wind begins. 

The story contrasts these two outlooks on life as the two main characters, their families, their friends, and their struggles interact.  

Note: An appendix allows readers to connect characteristics drawn from those two books to the characters in the story.

See into in previous post.

On Sale at Amazon:Where the Wind Will

Here is the second installment concerning the life and times of one Malcolm Richardson, a thrice married, thrice divorced multimillionaire, who is struggling with the unexpected death last month (November) of his friend Morv Arid (Moreen) Hassani who he had met the previous spring.  She was a former prominent, ground breaking Doctor in her native country of Iran, a survivor of the Iran/Iraq war,  and a refugee from religious persecution.  An organic product of their friendship is a developing and quite startling spiritual transformation that is proving to be addictive and frustratingly confusing for the wealthy former business tycoon having little to no religious background.  With Moreen’s passing Malcolm must rely on the growing faith of his first (and he knows to be his only true) love, Sybil Richardson who he left almost three decades earlier for wife number 2.  His need for guidance concerning this mysterious new pull also creates a serendipitous romantic opportunity for the two middle aged divorcees.  This opportunity is complicated by the struggles and interactions of a very large blended family which includes—from Malcolm’ perspective—3 ex wives, 4 natural adult  children (3 from Sybil), 2 adult step children, 1 fourteen year old step son,  6 spouses, 1 adopted 20 y/o daughter (and boy friend),  4 grand children, and Moreen’s remaining 2 adult children.   One major conflict that Malcolm must resolve is the severe bitterness his youngest son (by Sybil) over Malcolm’s abandonment of the family so many years earlier.  All this will play out across an international plane as Malcolm is forced to continue to deal with the deadly reality of religious persecution around the world….a reality that eventually will hit the Richardson family very hard close to home.  

See the author’s other book, “Suffer the Slings and Arrows: Dialogues With Job”.

Review: Suffer the Slings and Arrows

Title: Suffer the Slings and Arrows: Dialogues with Job

Author: Wayne Wilson

Review Date: November 09, 2012

Reviewed by CBM Christian Book Marketing

10.0 stars on a scale of 10.0 stars

Suffer the Slings and Arrows: Dialogues with Job by author Wayne Wilson is a fictional narration of the classic Old Testament Book and one of the oldest books of the Bible, The Book of Job.  As most Christians may be familiar with the Book of Job and his sufferings, the author has written an intriguing fictional account, taking the reader back in time to 15 years after Job encountered his sufferings.  As noted in the popular cliché, "Time heals old wounds" the author thoughtfully takes a look at how Job's sufferings affected each character emotionally, socially and spiritually.  The author reveals Job's relationship with God, therefore asking and answering poignant questions that arise throughout the Book of Job.  If you have ever had trouble enduring or understanding the book of Job, consider this book that delves in deep and gives the reader a practical look at the Book of Job through the creative use of dialogue, scripture and encouragement.

 

This inspiring read will challenge the reader to come up higher in their pursuit of God while they consider God's servant, Job.  Regarded as one of the greatest literature books in history, the Book of Job has a significant meaning to many who walk the "straight path."  Within these turbulent times, people need to know who their redeemer is and that whatever happens they must gain an attitude of Job who triumphantly proclaims, Though I be tried by fire, yet I shall come through as gold, and Yea though He slay me, yet I will still worship Thee.   

As the author notes, "The story of Job encapsulates the story of the Old Testament and is applicable to all.  Job encourages us to rise above the suffering and find contentment in God Himself…not in His provisions.  Seek God's face, not His hand." Answering the question of, is love really love when there is no hidden agenda behind it? 

Capturing the essence of the time period and the timeless message of the Book of Job, readers will develop a deeper knowing and a deeper knowledge of God through this delightful and well written book from an author who has always been intrigued by the Book of Job and it's purpose.  A highly recommended, entertaining must read that will keep you coming back for more.

On sale now at Amazon
http://www.amazon.com/Suffer-Slings-Arrows-Dialogues-Job/dp/1935079751/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1356802956&sr=1-1&keywords=suffer+the+slings+and+arrows

Where the Wind Will (January 2013-Estimate scheduled release)

Introduction

            

Where the Wind Begins (proposal attached) is a narrative that injects the world view inherent in the Old Testament book Ecclesiastes into a fictional character-- specifically a jaded thrice married, thrice divorced millionaire by the name of Malcolm Richardson. Likewise it takes the world view inherent in Paul’s epistle to the Philippians (written from house arrest in Rome) and places that into the fictional person of an Iranian widow and refugee named Morv Areed Hassani.  Malcolm is wealthy, accomplished, well traveled, and miserable.  Moreen (Morv Areed) grew up well to do in Iran but had her wealth, her dreams, her family, and her career as an accomplished physician all taken by the circumstances surrounding the Iranian Islamic Revolution of 1979.  The one element in her life that Suddam’s henchman and the Islamist of Iran could not take was her faith and with this, as circumstances play out, she lovingly and gently confronts the pessimism of said Malcolm Richardson.

Where the Wind Will is the second of a three part narrative began in Where the Wind Begins.    Without a doubt the first installment to the series was a love story on several plains (vertical, horizontal) and on several levels (filial, romantic, familial).  The sequel continues in that tradition.  It carries on with many of the key relationships began in Where the Wind Begins, the main being that between the divorced Sybil and her millionaire ex, Malcolm Richardson (mentioned above).

Summary

                Where the Wind Will takes place a few weeks after the death of the heroine, Morv Areed Hassani or Moreen for short,  which occurred in the closing pages of the first installment.   Her friend Malcolm Richardson struggles with the reality of her death and his continuing walk of faith that she inspired and he does not adequately understand.  One development concerning this walk and the transformation it is generating is that Malcolm is becoming more aware of the dire mistakes he has made as a man, a husband (thrice divorced), and a father (3 children, 4 step children, 1 adopted daughter, 4 grandchildren)….mistakes that demand correction.  In trying to understand the dynamics of the transformations he is experiencing, Malcolm leans heavily on the relatively recently blossomed faith of his first wife, Sybil and her parish priest, Dr. Simon Wheeler. 

What transpires from Malcolm’s growing dependence on Sybil’s spiritual strength is a continuing respect for her on every level and a desire to become more a part of the family she raised by herself.   This, in turn leads the millionaire bachelor to realize that he has always loved Sybil and with encouragement from Dr. Wheeler, he sets out a courting.  She is hesitant, but cautiously receptive.

Heather, Malcolm’s adoptive daughter (from his third and most recent wife—and divorce), will fall in love with her friend Josh who was introduced in Where the Wind Begins as a veteran of the Afghanistan war and a senior music major at the University of Houston at Clear lake (she is a junior) who is able to recognize the world’s plea and search for God in its music. He and Heather have recognized how congregationally centered and driven their Christian experience has been and with the help of Father Simon Wheeler they will be introduced to the ancient forms of worship.  In this volume he decides to volunteer for a missionary trip to Colombia….an action that creates no small bit of friction between him and Heather.

Malcolm’s step daughter, Dana, from his second wife (Rachael, for whom he left Sybil almost three decades ago) has befriended Moreen’s only surviving son, Omid.   These two met briefly in the first book and he teaches philosophy on the university level.  She entertains radical feminist ideas, dabbles with faith, and continues recovering from her emotionally devastating divorce some months earlier.  Omid is borderline agnostic and struggling with the death of his mother.  The two are providing each other moral and social support and it appears that the relationship is currently non romantic.

Omid’s sister Dorri has moved to Austin, Texas to begin studying for a Doctorate in Middle Eastern Studies. She and her mother inhabited the downstairs apartment below Malcolm’s mansion on the Gulf of Mexico in Kemah, Texas prior to Moreen’s demise.  Vacating the property will give Dana a safe opportunity to move out of her mother’s house and return to life on her own.  Rachael and Malcolm do not speak to each other.

The story closes with a dramatic twist that prepares the reader for a third installment.

Word Count:  151,000

Purpose and Target Audience

                In the proposal for the first book, I listed its purposes as:

·         Emphasize sanctification over circumstances, character over comfort and declare this to be God’s approach

·         Introduce readers to the book of Ecclesiastes and its dark, real life, “rubber hits the road” perspective

·         Invite evangelicals to be less provincial and exclusive in their religious world views

·         Introduce evangelicals to the possibility that  high church liturgy can be moving and meaningful

·         Elevate the daily walk in the faith as paramount

·         Introduce readers to the richness of Shakespeare

The first bullet point indicates the primary reason for writing Where the Wind Begins.  I essentially address the problem of suffering in the life of the believer by comparing the world view of Ecclesiastes to the world view of Philippians.  This was attempted by orchestrating these world views to play out in the lives of the two main characters.    I continue to develop this understanding in Where the Wind Will, by referring back to the life of Morv Areed Hassani and by expanding the foundations of her suffering, that being the reality, the needs, and the plight of the persecuted church around the world.  Jesus made it a point in the upper room as he was preparing his disciples for the post-resurrection world to inform them that because He was hated by the world, the world would also hate them and the history of the faith has been just that.   With few exceptions, devotion to Christ meant persecution.  Those of us who reside in the West currently enjoy (for how long?) an island of tolerance in the midst of an ocean of oppression.  I wish to do what I can to contribute to the needs of those brothers and sisters who suffer for the faith and hope that Where the Wind Begins, this work, and all that follow will do just that.

Rick Warren came out with a bombshell concept several years ago that he wrapped up in the terms “Purpose Driven Life”.  I never did look into any of this, but I know of it because of its phenomenal success in the market place.  At any rate, the title of Warren’s series leads me to the second issue that Where the Wind Will continues to address and that is “congregational driven worship”.  The first installment actually dealt with this issue in a cryptic manner as laid out in the third and forth bullet points above.  This installment will deal with the issue more directly.

The latter part of Exodus, all of Leviticus, parts of Deuteronomy, and Numbers are avoided by most believers as tedious and boring.  This is understandable, but unfortunate, for the one thing that these works scream is HOLINESS!  We take this word and wrap it in legalism (granted—this tends to be emphasized in the Pentateuch), but it carries a much richer connotation that is meant to permeate all of one’s existence.  God intends for us to separate, not to blend or homogenize.  He wishes us to be distinct from the world, not camouflaged.  He wishes us to be images of His holiness, not Christian versions of a fallen culture.

And this HOLINESS is not left up to our imagination.  God gives it a specific and detailed look that impacts every aspect of life and the particular aspect that I am concerned with here is worship.  The idea that I can worship however I wish is not Biblical.  God laid out a pattern with which He wanted us to use in approaching Him and that pattern is characterized by recognizing that He is a consuming fire not to be approached frivolously. Moses reminds Aaron of the words of God in this matter after the tragic death of his sons due to their lack of reverence, “By those who come near Me, I will be treated as holy, and before all the people I will be honored.”

The ancient Hebrews understood this, the Jews of Jesus’ time understood this, the first Christians understood this, and the Church understood this down through the ages.  This understanding was breached with the reformation which (acknowledging the legitimate complaints) unintentionally gave every man and his Bible the freedom to re-define orthodoxy and thus the manner in which he was to approach the Almighty God.  Now we have someone reinventing worship every week and the sad thing is that motivation behind all this seems to be an appeal to the masses in an effort to make worship more entertaining and less demanding.  The focus is the congregation not to the One Who should be the absolute target of said worship.

As these issues are being investigated, Malcolm continues to discover more about himself, the faith that Moreen introduced him to, as well as a possible pathway toward reconciliation with the first love of his life.  

There last two bullet points listed above will also continue to be developed in Where the Wind Begins.  First of all, it would be impossible to adequately deal with the ancient practices of worship and not focus on the importance of maintaining an active, vibrant regimen of prayer, Scripture reading, meditation, corporate worship, and service.

As for the last point, I will continue to use the work of the Bard, but will also endeavor to introduce the genius of John Milton….specifically in his great epic poem—Paradise Lost.

I wrote Where the Wind Will in such a manner that the events of the prequel become apparent as the second installment unfolds.  Of course, there are important nuances that are missed if one jumps over the first book; therefore, the author enthusiastically encourages first the reading of Where the Wined Begins if possible.

  Enjoy.

Wayne Wilson

Cabot, Arkansas           

June 2011 - September 2012

Chapter 26, Where the Wind Will

Chapter 26

Bone of My Bone

And Adam said, This [is] now bone of my

bones, and flesh of my flesh: she shall be

called Woman, because she was taken out

of Man.

Therefore shall a man leave his father and

his mother, and shall cleave unto his wife:

and they shall be one flesh.

Genesis  23-24

           

                                Now Morn, her rosy steps in the eastern clime

                                Advancing, sowed the earth with orient pearl….

It was just past noon.  Malcolm had finished a light lunch, settled into the wicker rocker in the sun room, and had barely gotten settled into reading some Milton when the buzzer at the front gate went off. 

Annoyed at the interruption which was enhanced by the grating character of the buzzer, Malcolm thought to himself, ”I really need to change that sound,” and ignoring the summons he re-read those two glorious velvety rich lines that began Book V of Paradise Lost.  It was at this moment that he began to realize that there are now few things on earth that he enjoys more than a well crafted sentence and here was a portion of the best he has ever seen.  In his ecstasy, the buzzer sounded again.

“Drats,” he said aloud as he rose to make his way into the kitchen where the nearest com link was.

“Hello,” responded the millionaire frustrated.

“Hey, Malcolm, it’s your favorite real estate salesman,” answered David Jenkins.

“Yes David, what can I help you with?   And, by the way, before you answer, be advised that I’m kind of into something right now,” he added to explain his side of the current circumstances.  This was followed by the muffle of someone else talking to which he heard David respond,

“Don’t worry about it.  It’s OK.  We’re good friends.  He…..”

“Hey David, is everything alright out there?”

“Yeah, Malcolm, say I have someone with me who wants to talk with you and I assured him that you would be more than willing give him a few minutes.  As it stands now, he is getting a little nervous so I would really appreciate it if you would just open this damn gate and let us in.  Whad-a-yu say buddy.”

David was a very talented salesman.  There are those who dabble at the trade; there are those who can do nothing else so they go into sales eeking out a meager living; and then there are those who have the gift.  Sandy Cochran had the gift and so does David…..that uncanny tenacity not to ever accept a no….ever, and in such a manner as not to anger the customer.  Malcolm really liked David and he respected his talent.  If he had met him fifteen years ago, he would have done whatever it took to hire the man.  Indeed, David was annoyingly pushy at times, but Malcolm trusted that he would not intrude unless he had a very good reason so he relented.

“Sure David come on through,” said the host with a sigh as he pressed the button to open the front gate.  “I’ll meet you at the front door.”

“Thanks Malcolm.  We’ll be there in a jiff.  See, I told you it would be alright,” was the last thing Malcolm heard as the intercom was shut off.

Malcolm stepped onto the front deck through the large front door in time to see David and his companion step out of the car and Malcolm immediate recognized Anthony Shultz the son of his late neighbor Basil Shultz who died about six weeks ago.   Upon seeing Anthony, Malcolm took it upon himself to walk down to meet the visitors.  There were handshakes and warm, polite greetings all around followed by Malcolm’s invitation that his visitors follow him up to the house.  He sat his guests in the office, which next to the sun room, was the most intimate room in the home.  He took their beverage orders (coffee), excused himself to the kitchen, and returned.  After passing out the requested fare, he fell in one end of the burgundy leather love seat.

“Anthony, it is great to see you again and it is an honor to have you in my home.  I am not going to ask how you got hooked up with a character like David Jenkins here,” said the host a little suspiciously while looking somewhat askew (with a slight grin) at his salesman friend.  “How is your mother doing?”

“Mom passed away two days ago, Mr. Richardson.”

There have been very few times in his life where Malcolm Richardson was caught off guard during a gathering (he prided his ability to always remain in control), but this could not be counted as one of those instances.   The air was almost sucked out of his lungs.  Now Malcolm really had no history with this family other than the times he had watch Basil and Shirley take their morning walks and that morning he had met Anthony at the home of octogenarian just after Basil had passed away.  The start came as a result of other factors.   First, to be honest and much to his shame now, he had not really thought of the Shultz’ since the morning he first met Anthony. Second, this dying thing is getting much too common an occurrence in his world and he would really wish it would stay away.  Third, it seems that the standard bearers of this new journey of his are all being taken away.

“O Anthony, I am so terribly sorry.  I…..”

“That’s OK, Mr. Rich….”

“Please, call me Malcolm,” urged the millionaire.

“Yes, of course, I’m, sorry Mr. Ri…I mean Malcolm,” replied the melancholy guest.  “You were so kind to come and check on Mom and Dad that morning and  seemed most sincere in wanting to be kept abreast of any developments, that I thought it necessary to oblige and come out here to fill you in on the latest,”  explained Anthony in a most servile fashion.  It was obvious even to the two other dense souls in the room that this man was struggling with loss.

“I hope she did not suffer too much Anthony,” Malcolm wished aloud somewhat awkwardly as he really did not know what to say.

“No, I think all would agree that Mom’s last days on earth were peaceful ones,” reported the son.  “At first, just after Dad’s passing, Mom did fine.  She would ask where Dad was and frankly we had no clue what to say except that he was away.  This went on for about a month and we all got the impression that the situation was quite manageable.   Megan had secured a home health nurse and we all slipped into an acceptable routine.   Then she started to become more and more agitated unable to explain what it was that was causing her such angst.  This frustrated her and just caused her (and us) further anxiety.  The situation spiraled down for about 10 days and we were just about to pull the plug on the whole ‘taking care of Mom’ idea.  Even the home health care people could not fix the situation and---by the way--they were great.  Then, one evening, while we were getting Mom ready for bed…..”

Anthony stopped here pausing while he worked his way through the torrents of emotion that boiled just below the surface.  Malcolm and David’s only option was to wait this awkward moment out. 

Gathering up his resolve, Anthony continued, but not really speaking to Malcolm or David.  It was as if he was carrying on some sort of internal dialogue, aloud.

 “You know, some of my fondest memories growing up were the bed time rituals we all went through with Mom and Dad as they prepared us all for sleep.  I just now realized how life had played out in reverse for us for in the end for it was I, the child, who was performing those rituals for the parent,” explained Anthony,  “Oh pardon me,” he recovered, “anyway, every night was a long drawn out process getting her to bed.  There was the suggestion that it was time for bed followed by her obstinacy not wanting to oblige.  The same resistance was encountered in trying to bath her before bedtime.  The entire scenario changed, however, when it came time to dress her, brush her hair and actually put her in the bed.”  Mr. Shultz paused momentarily for what seemed to be some reflections and then continued.  “This was always a comparatively calm period of 1000 questions about everything imaginable from her childhood to the present.  I do not think she even knew who we were, but somehow, Mom felt that we knew her very well and, as such, attempted to reconstruct her existence through us.  It was at this time of our daily routine that she became docile and cooperative.  She would even break out into humming and singing childhood songs as if she had not a care in the world.  The ubiquitous frown would melt into a jubilant glow and I could almost see my mother emerge from that shell of flesh.”  Again he paused for apparent reflection.

“Well, two nights ago, just after we laid her in bed and were about to turn and exit, she sat upright with a strength and vigor I had thought long had vanished from this frail body.  And with more life and lucidity that I have seen in Mom in years, yes asked,

“Is Basil gone?  Did he die?”

Anthony paused long enough here for David to inquire, “What did you tell her?”

“Well, Ramona and I looked at one another for help in how to proceed encountering expressions of cluelessness from both our faces…..so I just told her the truth.  I told her that Dad had passed away and was in a much better place waiting…….”   He could not finish and stood to pace over to the pool table where he picked up the eight ball, studied it momentarily before rolling the small black orb into the far side pocket.  Then he turned and walked back to his waiting audience.  I told her that Dad was waiting for her to join him.” 

Another pensive pause followed.   Malcolm found most conversations awkward when moments of silence ensued and he knew for a fact that David could not tolerate in the least such events, but both men apparently found these short times of reflection in this instance quite natural.   Mr. Shultz continued.

“When Dad was in the hospital just after his stroke, seemingly oblivious to all that was around him, Mom would lie in his bed with her feet at his head and her head at Dad’s feet.   She would tightly wrap her arms around his legs, and place her cheek against is stocking feet and sing those little childish songs I mentioned earlier.  This was one of the most amazing things I had ever seen and apparently it was so unique that the hospital staff would come by just to see it and….and marvel, I guess,” he added as commentary again seeming not to be speaking to Malcolm or David in this short interlude.  Returning to his listeners, he continued.

“We could never really figure what this really meant or why she felt so compelled to embrace his legs and feet…..”

“Perhaps, she was returning to all those morning walks,” surmised the host.  “Your Dad always seemed so attentive to her during those times as I watched them.  He would just talk and talk, but she never really seemed to be understanding what he was saying.  I mean, I was not ever close enough to even know what he was telling her and have no real idea if she were listening or not,  but in observing from a distance it just seemed by the blank look on her face as if his narration had no audience.”

“Shows you what you know,” joked David with an ever so slight chuckle.

“She left us sometime early that morning,” said Anthony apparently oblivious to David’s quip.   “I guess she fully understood my comment about Dad waiting for her and she left us not wanting him to be waiting any further,” finished the son as he made his way over to the large window and gazed up through its pane into the sky.  “So they are together again, I guess, though I do not really understand much about what happens after death.”  Then turning to face his host and his driver, he reported, “Ramona and I were not frequent church goers, but we maintained a connection with Family Life Church in Clear Lake.   Mom and Dad were avid church goers before her condition made travel just too tedious and that congregation did a good job checking in on them and keeping us posted.  We were always so thankful for that.  This is the main reason we allowed them to stay alone in that big house knowing that someone was always looking in on them.  Actually, they were the ones who found Dad and called the hospital.  And then when you showed up that morning with apparent concern it just corroborated the fact that Someone was up there making sure these two old people were OK.  This,  and watching them pass from this life has prompted us to consider becoming more active in trying to understand spiritual matters……anyway, that’s neither here nor there, I just thought that you deserved an update Mr….I mean Malcolm.  That’s it,” said Anthony with a shrug of his shoulder and an outstretched hand apparently preparing to leave.  “I am sorry if we disturbed your mid-day activities…..

“You did nothing of the sort, Anthony,” Malcolm responded rising to grasp the extended hand,   “and I am truly honored that you took it upon yourself to come over this afternoon.  The invitation stands, if I can help in any way you know how to get in touch.  It certainly seems that Mr. Jenkins here is at your beck and call, though I could not imagine the motivation,” added the skeptical millionaire while staring accusingly at his real estate friend with a slight grin. 

“Just doing my part, buddy,” responded David, also with a smile.

Not really understanding what that was all about, Anthony excused himself and made his way toward the front door.  Cordial benedictions were passed around and Malcolm’s guests exited the home.   After closing the front door the owner of this one man mansion walked over and fell into one of the chairs in the lounge area of his great room.

“What was that all about,” he said aloud.  “Why was I allowed to hear all that,” actually considering himself a better person as a result.  There are narratives that just stand out as shining examples of just how grand and amazingly mysterious the universe is and that story was one of them.  In pondering that powerful example of the nuptial relationship, he had just heard described, Malcolm rose to return to the sun room where his copy of Paradise Lost lay in waiting--making a stop in the kitchen to make another cup of hazelnut decaf.  (He had one of those fancy machines that measured out the beans, ground them, and then brewed the beverage—all according to commands entered by the operator.)  The sun room was quite toasty with the gas fire going compared to the slight chill that permeated the rest of the large home.  (Malcolm did not have the large freestanding gas fire pit between the dining room and the great room lit.)  He resumed his position in the wicker rocker and picked up Milton’s masterpiece.

In reading this 17^th century work, Malcolm was beginning to understand that there was much more life and heat in the puritan understanding of male/female relations than he was led to believe by the pop pedantics.  Unlike our bachelor, Malcolm was convinced that Milton would not have been the least bit surprised at the relationship that Basil and Shirley were able to enjoy.  The novice literary critic was also struck by the majesty and respect that Milton extended toward the institution of matrimony.  This was no surprise, of course, it was just made more abrupt by the poet’s expert use of language.

He opened the book to one of his marked pages and read,

for in thir looks Divine
The image of thir glorious Maker shon,
Truth, Wisdome, Sanctitude severe and pure,
Severe, but in true filial freedom plac't;
Whence true autoritie in men; though both
Not equal, as thir sex not equal seemd;
For contemplation hee and valour formd,
For softness shee and sweet attractive Grace,
Hee for God only, shee for God in him:
His fair large Front and Eye sublime declar'd
Absolute rule; and Hyacinthin Locks
Round from his parted forelock manly hung
Clustring, but not beneath his shoulders broad:
Shee as a vail down to the slender waste
Her unadorned golden tresses wore
Dissheveld, but in wanton ringlets wav'd
As the Vine curles her tendrils, which impli'd
Subjection, but requir'd with gentle sway,
And by her yeilded, by him best receivd,
Yeilded with coy submission, modest pride,
And sweet reluctant amorous delay.
Nor those mysterious parts were then conceald…
So passd they naked on, nor shund the sight
Of God or Angel, for they thought no ill:

Then he thumbed to another mark where Adam and Eve have a tender discussion concerning the forbidden tree:

Sole partner and sole part of all these joyes,
Dearer thy self then all; needs must the Power
That made us, and for us this ample World
Be infinitly good, and of his good
As liberal and free as infinite,
That rais'd us from the dust and plac't us here
In all this happiness, who at his hand
Have nothing merited, nor can performe
Aught whereof hee hath need, hee who requires
From us no other service then to keep
This one, this easie charge, of all the Trees
In Paradise that beare delicious fruit
So various, not to taste that onely Tree
Of knowledge, planted by the Tree of Life,
So neer grows Death to Life, what ere Death is,
Som dreadful thing no doubt; for well thou knowst
God hath pronounc't it death to taste that Tree,
The only sign of our obedience left
Among so many signes of power and rule
Conferrd upon us, and Dominion giv'n
Over all other Creatures that possesse
Earth, Aire, and Sea. Then let us not think hard
One easie prohibition, who enjoy
Free leave so large to all things else, and choice
Unlimited of manifold delights:
But let us ever praise him, and extoll
His bountie, following our delightful task
To prune these growing Plants, & tend these Flours,
Which were it toilsom, yet with thee were sweet.

To whom thus Eve repli'd. O thou for whom
And from whom I was formd flesh of thy flesh,
And without whom am to no end, my Guide
And Head, what thou hast said is just and right.
For wee to him indeed all praises owe,
And daily thanks, I chiefly who enjoy
So farr the happier Lot, enjoying thee
Preeminent by so much odds, while thou
Like consort to thy self canst no where find.
That day I oft remember, when from sleep
I first awak't, and found my self repos'd
Under a shade on flours, much wondring where
And what I was, whence thither brought, and how.
Not distant far from thence a murmuring sound
Of waters issu'd from a Cave and spread
Into a liquid Plain, then stood unmov'd
Pure as th' expanse of Heav'n; I thither went
With unexperienc't thought, and laid me downe
On the green bank, to look into the cleer
Smooth Lake, that to me seemd another Skie.
As I bent down to look, just opposite,
A Shape within the watry gleam appeerd
Bending to look on me, I started back,
It started back, but pleasd I soon returnd,
Pleas'd it returnd as soon with answering looks
Of sympathie and love, there I had fixt
Mine eyes till now, and pin'd with vain desire,
Had not a voice thus warnd me, What thou seest,
What there thou seest fair Creature is thy self,
With thee it came and goes: but follow me,
And I will bring thee where no shadow staies
Thy coming, and thy soft imbraces, hee
Whose image thou art, him thou shall enjoy
Inseparablie thine, to him shalt beare
Multitudes like thy self, and thence be call'd
Mother of human Race: what could I doe,
But follow strait, invisibly thus led?
Till I espi'd thee, fair indeed and tall,
Under a Platan, yet methought less faire,
Less winning soft, less amiablie milde,
Then that smooth watry image; back I turnd,
Thou following cryd'st aloud, Return fair EVE,
Whom fli'st thou? whom thou fli'st, of him thou art,
His flesh, his bone; to give thee being I lent
Out of my side to thee, neerest my heart
Substantial Life, to have thee by my side
Henceforth an individual solace dear;
Part of my Soul I seek thee, and thee claim
My other half: with that thy gentle hand
Seisd mine, I yeilded, and from that time see
How beauty is excelld by manly grace
And wisdom, which alone is truly fair.

Extatic over this language of intimate connection, the reader moved to the next marked page where Milton apparently records what could only be described as erotic, though one must realize that our approach is taken post fall and Milton is describing the intimacy and beauty of a pre-fall relationship and even that with in the confines of man and wife.  Consequently, the scene comes across as almost forbidden and Malcolm feels as if he is intruding .  None-the-less he proceeds already aware of the libidinous content reading with relish as his mind fabricates images of he and his first love—the ravising Sybil:

So spake our general Mother, and with eyes
Of conjugal attraction unreprov'd,
And meek surrender, half imbracing leand
On our first Father, half her swelling Breast
Naked met his under the flowing Gold
Of her loose tresses hid: he in delight
Both of her Beauty and submissive Charms
Smil'd with superior Love, as JUPITER
On JUNO smiles, when he impregns the Clouds
That shed MAY Flowers; and press'd her Matron lip
With kisses pure….

To whom thus EVE with perfet beauty adornd.
My Author and Disposer, what thou bidst
Unargu'd I obey; so God ordains,
God is thy Law, thou mine: to know no more
Is womans happiest knowledge and her praise.
With thee conversing I forget all time,
All seasons and thir change, all please alike.
Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet,
With charm of earliest Birds; pleasant the Sun
When first on this delightful Land he spreads
His orient Beams, on herb, tree, fruit, and flour,
Glistring with dew; fragrant the fertil earth
After soft showers; and sweet the coming on
Of grateful Eevning milde, then silent Night
With this her solemn Bird and this fair Moon,
And these the Gemms of Heav'n, her starrie train:
But neither breath of Morn when she ascends
With charm of earliest Birds, nor rising Sun
On this delightful land, nor herb, fruit, floure,
Glistring with dew, nor fragrance after showers,
Nor grateful Evening mild, nor silent Night
With this her solemn Bird, nor walk by Moon,
Or glittering Starr-light without thee is sweet.

                So, there, sitting all alone in the middle of the day in his large house empty of everything but stuff, the pensive bachelor was forced to contemplate marriage and the awful, immensely consequential mistakes he had made in his approach to this timeless institution.  And here in this quiet moment of reflection, Malcolm Richardson asked God for a second…..no, he remembered in horror, a  forth chance at love.