The Rubber Room

March 18th, 2009

I listened to an NPR program on the way home from work last Saturday night that taught me about an incredible place in New York City.  It’s called the rubber room.  A site about The Big Apple gives us the definition so we’ll know why the “reassignment centers” for NYC teachers are called rubber rooms.  A teacher can be sent there for any reason and might be there days, weeks or months without knowing why.  Some have even spent years in the rubber room.  They are sent there for both real and perceived wrongs against students, other teachers or administrators.  And there they’ll stay, getting paid, but not being allowed to teach. 

The Village Voice calls this “the Guantánamo Bay of the school world.”  Initially, it sounds great.  Just sit around and read or do whatever to entertain yourself and get paid.  But being in limbo is not such an easy thing.  Some of them who have spent years there want to form a chapter of the teacher’s union, United Federation of Teachers, for those teachers who are “employed” in the rubber rooms.  You can read some of their stories here at The New York Times and a teacher story.

More of the World’s Greatest Books

March 17th, 2009

Last week I gave you the listing for the first 100 books.  Here is the second 100.  I managed to add another seven to the list I’ve read.  How are you doing?

Samuel Butler (1835-1902) Wikipedia Erewhon (1872) PG
Alexander Pope (1688-1744) Wikipedia Essay on Man (1733) PG
Michel Eyquem de Montaigne (1533-1592) Wikipedia Essays (1580) PG
Edith Wharton (1862-1937) Wikipedia Ethan Frome (1911) Freeread
Aristotle (384bc-322bc) Wikipedia Ethica Nicomachea (-384) PG
Benedictus de Spinoza (1633-1677) Wikipedia Ethics (1677) PG
Alexander Pushkin (1799-1837) Wikipedia Eugene Onegin (1833)
Honoré de Balzac (1799-1850) Wikipedia Eugénie Grandet (1834) PG
John Lyly (1553-1606) Wikipedia Euphues: The Anatomy of Wit (1578)
Fanny Burney (1752-1840) Wikipedia Evelina (1778) PG
Unknown (-) Wikipedia Everyman (1508) PG
John Cleland (1709-1789) Wikipedia Fanny Hill (1749) PGA
Thomas Hardy (1840-1928) Wikipedia Far from the Madding Crowd (1874) Freeread
Ivan Turgenev (1818-1883) Wikipedia Fathers and Sons (1862)
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (1749-1832) Wikipedia Faust (1790) PG
Søren Kierkegaard (1813-1855) Wikipedia Fear and Trembling (1843)
James Joyce (1882-1941) Wikipedia Finnegan’s Wake (1939)
Benito Pérez Galdós (1843-1920) Wikipedia Fortunata and Jacinta (1887)
Mary Shelley (1797-1851) Wikipedia Frankenstein (1818) PG
André Gide (1869-1951) Wikipedia Fruits of the Earth (1897)
Francois Rabelais (c1494-1553) Wikipedia Gargantua and Pantagruel (1532) PG
Émile Zola (1840-1902) Wikipedia Germinal (1885)
Henrik Ibsen (1828-1906) Wikipedia Ghosts (1881) PG
Margaret Mitchell (1900-1949) Wikipedia Gone With the Wind (1936) PGA
Selma Lagerlöf (1858-1940) Wikipedia Gösta Berlin’s Saga (1891)
Charles Dickens (1812-1870) Wikipedia Great Expectations (1861) PG
Knut Hamsun (1859-1952) Wikipedia Growth of the Soil (1917) Freeread
Jonathan Swift (1667-1745) Wikipedia Gulliver’s Travels (1726) PG
Frederick Rolfe (1860-1913) Wikipedia Hadrian the Seventh (1904)
William Shakespeare (1564-1616) Wikipedia Hamlet, Prince of Denmark (1602) PG
Charles Dickens (1812-1870) Wikipedia Hard Times (1854) PG
Anthony Trollope (1815-1882) Wikipedia He Knew He Was Right (1869) PG
Joseph Conrad (1857-1924) Wikipedia Heart of Darkness (1902) Freeread
Henrik Ibsen (1828-1906) Wikipedia Hedda Gabler (1890) PG
William Shakespeare (1564-1616) Wikipedia Henry the Fifth (1600) PG
William Shakespeare (1564-1616) Wikipedia Henry the Fourth, Part One (1596) PG
William Shakespeare (1564-1616) Wikipedia Henry the Fourth, Part Two (1597) PG
Frederic Manning (1882-1935) Wikipedia Her Privates We (1930) PGA
Euripides (480bc-406bc) Wikipedia Hippolytus (-428) PG
Tobias George Smollett (1721-1771) Wikipedia Humphrey Clinker (1771) PG
Knut Hamsun (1859-1952) Wikipedia Hunger (1890) Freeread
Friedrich Holderlin (1779-1843) Wikipedia Hyperion (1797)
John Keats (1795-1821) Wikipedia Hyperion (1856) PGA
Raymond Roussel (1877-1933) Wikipedia Impressions of Africa (1910)
Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu (1814-1873) Wikipedia In a Glass Darkly (5 stories) (1872) PGA
Alfred Lord Tennyson (1809-1892) Wikipedia In Memoriam (1850) PGA
Sir Walter Scott (1771-1832) Wikipedia Ivanhoe (1820) PG
Virginia Woolf (1882-1941) Wikipedia Jacob’s Room (1922) Freeread
Denis Diderot (1713-1784) Wikipedia Jacques the Fatalist (1796)
Charlotte Brontë (1816-1855) Wikipedia Jane Eyre (1847) PG
Henry Fielding (1707-1754) Wikipedia Joseph Andrews (1742) PG
Jules Verne (1828-1905) Wikipedia Journey to the Center of the Earth (1866) PG
Thomas Hardy (1840-1928) Wikipedia Jude the Obscure (1895) Freeread
Jean-Jacques Rousseau (1712-1778) Wikipedia Julie; or the New Eloise (1760)
William Shakespeare (1564-1616) Wikipedia Julius Caesar (1601) PG
Marquis de Sade (1740-1814) Wikipedia Justine (1791)
George Orwell (1903-1950) Wikipedia Keep the Aspidistra Flying (1936) PGA
Robert Louis Stevenson (1850-1894) Wikipedia Kidnapped (1886) PG
Rudyard Kipling (1865-1936) Wikipedia Kim (1901) Freeread
William Shakespeare (1564-1616) Wikipedia King Lear (1605) PG
Ivan Turgenev (1818-1883) Wikipedia King Lear of the Steppes (1870)
H Rider Haggard (1856-1925) Wikipedia King Solomon’s Mines (1885) PG
Natsume Soseki (1867-1916) Wikipedia Kokoro (1914)
Sigrid Undset (1882-1949) Wikipedia Kristin Lavransdatter (1922)
Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772-1834) Wikipedia Kubla Khan (1816) PG
Émile Zola (1840-1902) Wikipedia La Bête Humaine (1890)
D H Lawrence (1885-1930) Wikipedia Lady Chatterley’s Lover (1928) PGA
Oscar Wilde (1854-1900) Wikipedia Lady Windermere’s Fan (1892) Freeread
Sir Thomas Malory (1405-1471) Wikipedia Le Morte d’Arthur (1485) PG
Honoré de Balzac (1799-1850) Wikipedia Le Père Goriot (Father Goriot) (1834) PG
Alexandre Dumas (1802-1870) Wikipedia Le Reine Margot (1845)
Walt Whitman (1819-1892) Wikipedia Leaves of Grass (1855) PG
William Butler Yeats (1865-1939) Wikipedia Leda and the Swan (1923) PGA
Victor Hugo (1802-1885) Wikipedia Les Misérables (1862) PG
May Sinclair (1862-1946) Wikipedia Life and Death of Harriett Frean (1922) Freeread
Pedro Calderon de la Barca (1600-1681) Wikipedia Life Is a Dream (1635) PG
Edgar Allan Poe (1809-1849) Wikipedia Ligeia (1840) PG
William Wordsworth (1770-1850) Wikipedia Lines: Composed a Few Miles Above Tintern Abbey (1798) PG
Louisa May Alcott (1832-1888) Wikipedia Little Women (1868) Freeread
Samuel Johnson (1709-1784) Wikipedia Lives of the Poets (1779) PG
Raymond Roussel (1877-1933) Wikipedia Locus Solus (1914)
Thomas Wolfe (1900-1938) Wikipedia Look Homeward Angel (1929) PGA
Joseph Conrad (1857-1924) Wikipedia Lord Jim (1900) Freeread
Honoré de Balzac (1799-1850) Wikipedia Lost Illusions (1843) PG
Eliza Haywood (1693-1756) Wikipedia Love in Excess (1719)
Aristophanes (c446bc-c385bc) Wikipedia Lysistrata (-411) PG
William Shakespeare (1564-1616) Wikipedia Macbeth (1606) PG
Gustave Flaubert (1821-1880) Wikipedia Madame Bovary (1857) PG
Stephen Crane (1871-1900) Wikipedia Maggie: A Girl of the Streets (1893) Freeread
Sinclair Lewis (1885-1951) Wikipedia Main Street (1920) Freeread
George Bernard Shaw (1856-1950) Wikipedia Major Barbara (1905) Freeread
Comte de Lautréamont (1846-1870) Wikipedia Maldoror (1868)
George Bernard Shaw (1856-1950) Wikipedia Man and Superman (1905) Freeread
Lord Byron (1788-1824) Wikipedia Manfred (1817) PGA
Jane Austen (1775-1817) Wikipedia Mansfield Park (1814) Freeread
Walter Pater (1839-1894) Wikipedia Marius the Epicurean (1885) PG
Charles Dickens (1812-1870) Wikipedia Martin Chuzzlewit (1844) PG
Jack London (1876-1916) Wikipedia Martin Eden (1909) Freeread
Elizabeth Gaskell (1810-1865) Wikipedia Mary Barton (1848) PG
Multatuli (1820-1887) Wikipedia Max Havelaar (1860)

Even Obama Got Tired

March 16th, 2009

of the spending sprees of American International Group.  It’s very frustrating to taxpayers to see bailout and stimulus money used for parties and employee bonuses.  It’s even more irritating to those of us who are stuck with our 401k plans being “managed” by a company who has shown such a lack of concern regarding their investors.  I don’t understand the rationale behind a company rewarding the people who took them down the tubes. 

According to a news alert for The New York Times, Obama has instructed Timothy F. Geithner to “pursue every single legal avenue” to block bonuses to the ailing insurer’s executives.  It would have been advisable to have made sure there were restrictions laid down prior to giving AIG any more money.  It’s not as if their bailout party was a big secret.  Our government needs to quit giving handout after handout to companies who show no regret for not being financially responsible.  Instead, many companies who need to brush up on business management are being rewarded. 

And now they’re talking about stimulus plan #2.  No wonder so many individuals have financial problems.  They learn to play the entitlement game from our businesses and leaders.

Check out what Don’t Mess With Taxes had to say about this mess.

Praise the Lord!

March 15th, 2009

Praise the Lord! 

Praise God in his sanctuary; praise him in his mighty firmament!  Praise him for his mighty deeds; praise him according to his surpassing greatness!

Praise him with trumpet sound; praise him with lute and harp!  Praise him with tambourine and dance; praise him with stings and pipe!  Praise him with clanging cymbals; praise him with loud clashing cymbals!

Let everything that breathes praise the Lord!

Praise the Lord!

Psalm 150

Still Hanging

March 14th, 2009

By the apron strings, that is.  I’m going to share with you some of the apron patterns that I’ve found.  There’s a wide variety out there.

The Vintage Apron Bonnet pattern is one of the most versatile.  You can see some good photos of it at Sun Bonnet Sue

Tipnut has a list of 52 free apron patterns.  You should be able to find just about any style that you would like on that list.  

About.com also has a nice list of apron patterns.  You can find some at Made By Amanda as well. 

I really like the list at my half of the brain.  There’s a picture with each pattern to give you a better idea of what you can expect with your finished project.  I have some quilt blocks that my mother made, and I’ve been trying to figure out what to do with them.  This site solved that dilemma for me.  I still haven’t made that apron yet, so I’ll be making a couple of the quilt block bib aprons.  If you read Tied to My Strings, you know that I need more than one or two.

If you prefer to work from purchased patterns, McCall’s has 12 apron patterns.  If you go here, you will find a very long listing of pattern companies where you can research for more apron patterns.

There are websites devoted to aprons.  One of these is Tie One On.  She has links to free patterns, including a crocheted apron.  There’s a good apron post at the Angry Chicken.

I’m looking forward to wrapping some of these apron strings around me.  How about you?  Do you wear aprons?  Do you have an apron site that you can share with the rest of us?

Thriving on Less

March 13th, 2009

In the next installment of Leo Babauta’s book, he shows us how he got out of debt.

Chapter 8 – A Guide to Getting Out of Debt

 

“Debt is the worst poverty.”

  • – Thomas Fuller

It was only a few years ago when I was overloaded with debt – so much so that I couldn’t make all my payments and I had numerous debts sent to several collection agencies. I had creditors calling me for late payments, and I was juggling them, constantly stressed about how I was going to make my car payment and make rent. It’s hard to imagine those days now – the unbearable burden of that debt – because as of this year, I am debt free! It’s an amazingly liberating feeling to be free of debt. Your money is your own, and you have breathing room in your budget for saving, investing, and buying what you need.

But going from overwhelming debt to being debt free wasn’t an instant event. It was a journey, and it meant a firm resolve, some sacrifices, and some new habits.

 

How I Finally Got Out of Debt

 

It wasn’t the easiest of journeys for me, but I think because of the struggle that getting out of debt entails, the final destination is that much sweeter.

 

Here are the most important things that got me out of debt:

 

1. Canceled the credit card. This item always draws a lot of debate, but I’ll say it anyway, because it’s been crucial in getting myself debt free: credit cards are extremely tempting, and with the high interest, they can be downright dangerous. It is possible to use them wisely and even profit from using them … however, most people don’t use them that way, and for people like me, it’s better to just cancel the card. I still had a big debt to pay on the card, but at least I wasn’t using it anymore.

 

Rule #1: If you’re trying to get out of a hole, stop digging.

 

2. Eliminated non-essential expenses. This might seem extreme to many people, but remember: I have six kids and for awhile I wasn’t making enough income to support my family. I needed to cut back. So I eliminated everything I didn’t need: cable TV, most of my eating out, going to the movies (except on rare occasions), alcohol, eventually cigarettes (once I quit smoking in November 2005), buying new clothes (except when really needed), etc. I slowly re-learned what it was like to live frugally. This was also key, as it’s part of the “stop digging the hole” rule.

 

3. The spending plan. I don’t like to use the word “budget” because it strikes fear in the hearts of many readers, and blank stares in the eyes of others. Instead, I like the term “spending plan”, because it conjures images of creating a plan to achieve a goal, taking action, and doing something about your problems. But basically: figure out how much you make, and consciously decide how you want to spend it this month. My plan actually budgets out each paycheck, because a monthly budget wasn’t useful to me: if I only do a budget for a month, how do I know what to pay when my first paycheck comes out? I like to be more specific.

Anyway, the spending plan is essential. You have to decide where your money is going to go before you actually spend it. It was when I was spending without a plan that I got into trouble. And remember: a plan should be flexible, and have wiggle room, because life changes.

 

4. Cash and online bill payments. One of the reasons I had a hard time controlling my finances in the past is that I was spending left and right with no easy way to track my finances or stay within budget. I was using a credit card, debit card, checks, constant ATM withdrawals, etc. I’m not good at writing down every penny. So I devised an easier way: pay all my bills online (including debts and savings), and then withdraw all the money I need for spending categories like eating out, groceries and gas. I use the envelope system, so that I always know how much I have left in each category. Simple and fail-safe.

 

5. The emergency fund. I think this was one of the most important things I did. I know, it’s very common advice, but it’s for a good reason: without an emergency fund, your finances are at the whim of any urgent situation that comes up. Unexpected medical bill? Home repair? Car repairs? Need to travel to see your sick relative? These things will have to be paid for somehow, and if you don’t have an emergency fund, you’ll either go into debt to pay for them, or you’ll sacrifice your debt repayment for this month to pay for it. Without an emergency fund, it’s almost impossible to get out of debt. For myself, my debt reduction didn’t really start until I had saved at least a small emergency fund (shoot for $1,000 to start with, but at least a few hundred in the beginning).

 

6. The debt repayment plan. I created a plan to get out of debt, using the debt snowball method. I tackled the small bills first, allowing myself to create a sense of accomplishment right away, and to free up some money to pay for the bigger bills. Although tackling the highest-interest debts first is smarter financially, the difference is small and the psychological boost of the debt snowball is huge.

 

7. Debt is my first bill. In the beginning, actually, saving for the emergency fund was my first bill. As soon as I got paid, I would go online, transfer money into my savings account, and only after that was done would I pay other bills and withdraw my spending cash. Once I had a $1,000 in savings, I began making debt repayment my most important bill, and I would pay those first. Savings second. All other bills third. By paying debts and savings first, you eliminate the common problem that people have when they make savings and debt the last thing they pay: if something else comes up, there’s not enough money left over for savings or debt.

 

8. Rewards. I am a strong believer in rewarding yourself and celebrating any accomplishment. When a debt was paid off, my wife and I would go out to dinner to celebrate. And we might do something nice for the kids. Sure, we were spending extra money, but that sense of accomplishment is important. It’s a long journey, and you need to be able to look back every now and then to see how far you’ve come. It’s very motivating, and it gets you to the finish line.

 

9. Increased income. Besides spending less and living more frugally, I also increased my income to make my financial situation more stable and to accelerate debt repayment. To do this, I got a full-time job (I was only doing freelancing before), and continued to do as much freelancing as possible. Then I started ZenHabits.net, and that became a steady and growing income stream. I also improved my freelancing gigs, and began to look for other ways to make money.

 

Why Living Frugally is Only Part of the Solution

 

I would not be debt-free today if I didn’t learn to live frugally. If you don’t stem the flow of blood, you’ll never heal the wound. But frugal living is only one component. You have to learn to get your finances under control, and to plan your spending, and to create an emergency fund. You have to learn how to motivate yourself to finish the long journey. And one of the most important steps, as mentioned above, was increasing my income in multiple ways, in a series of steps designed to get my finances in better shape and to pay off debt faster.

 

Living frugal should be the first thing you do, in my opinion. It is vitally important. But it’s only a part of the equation – spending less only gets you part of the way. Earning more gets you the rest of the way.

 

How can you increase your income? You won’t do it the same way I have. Sure, anyone can create a blog, write an ebook, freelance, write a print book. And I’ve talked about ways to do those things in various places before. But it doesn’t always work out for everyone.

 

The key is to find something you’re passionate about, and pursue that with all of your heart. That might mean educating yourself, and learning new skills. That might mean finding mentors, and starting at the bottom. But when you’re passionate about something, you’re more motivated to learn and to succeed. Really pour yourself into it, and you’ll find a way. It’s also important to seek new opportunities, and don’t let good ones get away. If the opportunity doesn’t work out, well, drop it … but at least you gave it a shot. And who knows? One or more of those opportunities might turn into pure gold. They sure have for me, and I’m loving my life more than ever before.

Outlaw Marshal

March 13th, 2009

It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old…or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!

You never know when I might play a wild card on you!

Today’s Wild Card author is:
Al and JoAnna Lacy

and the book:

Outlaw Marshal

Multnomah Books (January 6, 2009)

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Al Lacy has been an evangelist for over 30 years, and he combines his love of the Old West with his passion for the Gospel in Christian fiction. Previously writing under pseudonyms Morgan Hill, Bill Reno, and Hank Mitchum, Al published 47 novels in the general market. Now Al writes under his own name.

JoAnna Lacy, Al’s wife and longtime collaborator, is a retired nurse. The Lacys havebeen married over forty years and live in the Colorado Rockies.

With over 3 million books in print, Al and JoAnna Lacy are co-authors of the popular Kane Legacy series, as well as the Frontier Doctor, Orphan Train, Mail Order Bride, Shadow of Liberty, and Hannah of Fort Bridger series. The Lacys havebeen married over forty years and live in western Colorado.

Product Details:

List Price: $12.99
Paperback: 304 pages
Publisher: Multnomah Books (January 6, 2009)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1601420544
ISBN-13: 978-1601420541

 

This is a nice story about a nice family living in a nice town and their nice friends, nice church and nice pastor.  They spend a lot of time being nice, crying, praying and witnessing.  The best parts of this book are when the good guys are out looking for the bad guys.  Then after the bad guys are apprehended, the good guys are nice to the bad guys.  The story has a nice ending.  Do you want sugar or artificial sweetener with your tea?

 

AND NOW…THE FIRST CHAPTER:

At sunrise on Monday morning, May 2, 1887, fifty-year-old Dan Haddock awakened in the bedroom of the apartment above his furniture store in Denver, Colorado.

Dan rubbed his eyes, rolled over in the bed, and glanced at the large window, which was on the east wall of the room. The eastern horizon was rose-flushed and golden. Above the glowing rim of the sun, the intense purity of the blue sky was a sight to see. “What a beautiful world You made, Lord,” he said in an appreciative whisper.

The owner of Haddock’s Furniture Store rubbed his eyes again, and this time when he opened them, his line of sight settled on a ten-by twelve-inch framed picture that sat on the nearby dresser. Suddenly, as he focused on the face of the lovely woman in the photograph, Dan was overcome with emotion. His eyes filled with tears as he stared with infinite tenderness at the face.

He swallowed hard. “Oh, Rebecca, darlin’. I miss you terribly!”

Suddenly his mind was filled with precious memories.

Dan thought of the day he first met Rebecca Jardine when they both attended a tent revival in Jefferson City, Missouri, in June of 1856; he was nineteen and she a year younger. When the evangelist who preached the meeting finished a powerful gospel sermon, both had walked the aisle and had received the Lord Jesus Christ as their Savior. Both were baptized in the church that had sponsored the tent revival and attended the services whenever the doors of the church were open. They began seeing each other on a regular basis and soon fell in love. They were married in October of that same year, after he turned twenty and Rebecca nineteen.

Dan thought of when they moved to Denver in July of 1871 and opened the furniture store. They very much loved their new church in Denver and enjoyed serving the Lord.

His mind then went to March of 1885, when his dear wife came down with a serious case of pneumonia and, despite the excellent care she received from the doctors and nurses, died in April at Denver’s Mile High Hospital.

Heavy of heart and missing Rebecca so very much, Dan sat up in bed and lifted his Bible from the nightstand. Needing comfort, he turned to Revelation 21:4 and read about the future of the saved people in heaven’s holy city, the New Jerusalem: “And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away.”

Tears spilled down Dan’s cheeks, and he sniffled. “Oh, Rebecca, sweetheart, when you and I are together in heaven, God’s going to wipe away all our tears. There won’t be any more crying—” He choked and brushed the tears from his cheeks. “There won’t be any more crying, darling, because there’ll be no more death, no more sorrow, and no more pain.”

Dan drew a shaky breath. “Oh, dear Lord, I’ll be so glad when Rebecca and I are together again. Of course, Lord Jesus, when I first get to heaven, I want to see You, look into Your eyes, and thank You in person for dying on the cross for me and for saving me that day at the tent revival… Then I want to see my dear Rebecca and hold her in my arms again.”

This time Dan used the bed sheet to dry the tears from his eyes and face, then rose from the bed and made it up. After shaving and grooming himself and dressing in one of his business suits, he went to the kitchen and cooked breakfast.

At eight thirty, Dan descended the stairs and entered his furniture store through its rear door. He had swept the store clean after closing late Saturday afternoon, and as he made his way toward the front door, he smiled as he looked around and admired the tidiness.

When he reached the large front windows, he lifted the shades and waved at a man and his wife who were walking along the boardwalk toward their clothing store. They smiled and waved back. Dan then flipped the Closed sign on the door window to Open and unlocked the door. He was ready for the new business day.

Just as he was turning away from the door, he noticed a young man ride up on a white horse and pull rein at the hitching post. His face looked vaguely familiar, but Dan couldn’t think of where he might have seen him before. He was probably going to do business in one of the other stores.

As Dan walked toward the counter, he smiled. “Thank You, Lord, for helping Haddock’s Furniture Store do so well since Rebecca and I opened it here almost sixteen years ago.”

His smile faded as Dan thought of Rebecca again. He missed her so very much. However, as he walked behind the counter, he reminded himself that whenever it was the Lord’s time to take him to heaven, he would be with Rebecca again…and this time forever.

Dan then bent down to get into the safe below the counter. He glanced at the .45-caliber revolver that was on top of the safe as a security measure, then quickly turned the dial, working the correct combination. When the dial gave off its satisfying click, he opened the safe’s door and lifted out a bag of currency. He took a specific amount of money from the bag and placed it by denomination in the various sections of the cash register’s drawer. He placed the rest of the money back in the safe, closed the door, and spun the dial.

Just then the front door opened, and Dan looked up to see the vaguely familiar young man step into the store with a fierce look in his eyes. Dan’s eyes immediately took in the revolver in the man’s hand as he closed the door behind himself.

Fear gripped Dan’s heart, black and cold. He recognized the man now. He was an outlaw named Hank Kelner. Dan had seen his face several times on Wanted posters on the big board in front of chief United States marshal John Brockman’s office at the federal building in the center of downtown Denver. Dan’s blood froze.

The look in the outlaw’s eyes was even more piercing as he rushed up to the counter, pointing his gun at Dan. He spoke harshly, through his teeth. “I’ve been watchin’ you through the window, mister! I saw you put that money in the drawer, and I know you have more down there behind the counter. I want it all. Give it to me now, or I’ll kill you!”

Dan’s chest was tight, and he could only breathe shallowly, but anger welled up inside him. He leaned down as if reaching for the other cash but instead grabbed his .45-caliber revolver. As he raised the gun, Kelner fired first. The roar of Kelner’s weapon thundered throughout the store. The bullet struck Dan in the chest, and he collapsed behind the counter.

Kelner hurried around the counter to the safe. As he gripped the handle, he knew immediately that it was locked. Realizing that someone on the street might have heard the shot and called for the law, Kelner opened the cash register drawer, grabbed the money there, stuffed it in his pockets, and dashed out the door. He swung into the saddle on his white horse and galloped away.

Three men on the boardwalk about a half block away had heard what they thought was a gunshot in one of the store buildings along the street. When they saw the man rush out of Haddock’s, swing into the saddle, and gallop away, they agreed the gunshot must have come from Dan Haddock’s store.

As people on the street gawked, Cal Hardy, Rupert Blomgren, and Roscoe Nelson dashed down the boardwalk and hurried into the furniture store.

Once inside, they looked around. Seeing no one, Cal Hardy called out, “Dan! Dan! Are you in here?”

A slight groan sounded from behind the counter. Rupert and Roscoe followed Cal as he rushed in that direction. They saw Dan lying on his back, the chest of his suit coat wet with blood. He was gasping for breath.

Dropping to his knees beside the wounded man, Cal examined the wound as the other two crouched on the opposite side of the bleeding store owner. “Dan, what happened? Did that guy who ran out of your store rob you?”

Dan nodded slowly. Hardly able to speak, he said, “Yeah. When…I tried to stop…him, he shot me. He’s a…well-known outlaw. Name’s… Hank Kelner.”

“Oh yeah!” Cal said. “I remember seeing Kelner’s picture on the Wanted board several times.” He looked at Roscoe and Rupert. “We’ve got to get Dan to the hospital.”

The wounded man’s eyes were closed, and his jaw and mouth were set in angles that indicated the pain he was experiencing.

All three men stood, and Cal bent down over Dan’s head. “I’ll lift his shoulders. Each of you take hold of one of his legs. It’ll be easier carrying him to the hospital this way.”

They nodded and bent down to place their arms under Dan’s legs.

As Cal was adjusting his grip, he noticed Dan open his eyes and look upward, focusing on the ceiling. His down turned mouth slowly curved into a smile.

“Wh-what’s he looking at?” Rupert looked up at the ceiling.

“And what’s he smiling at?” Roscoe also lifted his eyes to the ceiling.

Cal licked his lips, glanced overhead, then looked back down at Dan Haddock.

Dan shifted his gaze to Cal. His smile widened, and he said in a weak voice, “I’m going to be with Rebecca shortly. My…my…Savior is calling me.” He closed his eyes and went limp. His head slumped to one side as he let out his last breath.

Cal bit his lower lip as he placed the palm of his right hand against the side of Dan’s neck, feeling for a pulse. He held it there for several seconds. Tears welled up in his eyes as he looked at his friends. “He’s— he’s gone.”

Rupert Blomgren and Roscoe Nelson were also Christians, both of them belonging to a solid Bible-believing church in Littleton, one of Denver’s suburbs. Both men also had tears in their eyes.

After a long moment of silence, Cal said, “Since I belong to the same church as Dan, I’ll go tell Pastor Robert Bayless what has happened. I—I know it will bless his heart to hear about Dan’s smile just before he died, that he said his Savior was calling him and that he would be with Rebecca shortly.”

Both men nodded, blinking back tears.

“I know Pastor Bayless will preach the funeral service, of course,” Cal said. “And he will see to it that one of the undertakers picks up the body and prepares it for burial.”

Rupert said, “Roscoe and I will go to Chief Brockman’s office and tell him what happened.”

“Let’s go.” Cal headed toward the front door of the store. He flipped over the Open sign so the Closed side showed through the window. “Let’s leave the door unlocked so the undertaker can come in to get the body.”

Breaking into a run, Cal Hardy covered the three and a half blocks from Haddock’s Furniture Store to Denver’s First Baptist Church in a matter of minutes. He hurried to the rear of the church building, where there was an outside door to the pastor’s office, and knocked on the door.

He could hear footsteps from inside the office, and the door swung open. He was greeted by a smile from Pastor Robert Bayless, who was in his early fifties, his dark brown hair beginning to show some silver. “Hello, Cal. What can I do for you?”

Cal cleared his throat. “Pastor, I have some bad news for you. May I come in?”

The pastor’s features pinched. “Why, of course. Please come in.”

At the Denver jail, chief U.S. marshal John Brockman was sitting at a table in a small room with Norman Yanek, whom he had just led to receive the Lord Jesus Christ as his Savior. Brockman had personally pursued and caught the thirty-year-old Yanek after he’d robbed Littleton National Bank the previous week.

Yanek had faced trial in Denver, and Judge Ralph Dexter had sentenced him to ten years in the Colorado State Penitentiary at Cañon City. Brockman was all set to personally take him there the next day.

In his early forties, the chief U.S. marshal stood six feet five inches tall, a strikingly handsome man with short black hair and a well trimmed matching mustache over a square jaw. His right cheekbone sported a pair of identical white-ridged scars. It appeared to Yanek that Brockman’s eyes were pools of gray that sometimes seemed to look straight through him. Brockman was slender in the hips, yet had broad shoulders and very muscular arms that showed off his light gray uniform with its shiny gold, shield-shaped badge. His lawman’s look was completed by a low-slung, tied-down Colt .45 in a black-belted holster, the handle grips of which were bone white.

John Brockman smiled. “Norman, I’m so glad that you listened to the gospel and opened your heart to the Lord Jesus.”

Yanek was still holding on to the Bible Brockman had brought with him. He matched John’s smile. “Sir, I very much appreciate you caring enough about this wicked sinner to show him how to be saved.”

“Norman, I want you to keep that Bible. Take it with you to prison, and study it every day.”

Yanek’s eyebrows arched. “Really? You’re giving it to me?”

“Yes.”

Tears misted the prisoner’s eyes. “Sir, thank you for your kindness and generosity. I promise I’ll study this book every day.”

At that moment, the door of the small room opened, and Sheriff Walt Carter stepped in with one of Brockman’s deputies, Roland Jensen, at his side.

As they walked toward the table, the sheriff said, “Chief Brockman, Deputy Jensen has some bad news for you.”

Brockman frowned and stood, towering over the sheriff and the deputy U.S. marshal. “What is it, Roland?”

Roland told the chief about Rupert Blomgren and Roscoe Nelson coming to the chief ’s office with the bad news that Dan Haddock had been robbed and killed just over half an hour ago by outlaw Hank Kelner.

Brockman’s heart lurched in his chest. His face paled, and his eyes widened. He was obviously jolted to hear about his dear Christian friend, and it showed more as the ridges of his twin jagged scars turned even whiter and tears filmed his eyes.

Deputy Jensen then told Chief Brockman that Cal Hardy was with them at the furniture store after Dan was killed and where Cal had gone afterward.

Brockman nodded. “I’m glad Cal informed Pastor Bayless. Now how do we know Hank Kelner was the one who robbed and killed Dan?”

“There’s no doubt,” Jensen responded. “Rupert and Roscoe said that before Dan died he told them and Cal that it was Kelner. He had seen Kelner’s picture on the Wanted posters in front of your office.”

“All right.” Brockman nodded again. “Now what about Kelner?”

“Some people on the street saw him as he galloped away from the furniture store. They told Rupert and Roscoe that he was on a white horse, wearing a red jacket and a low-crowned black hat. Apparently he galloped eastward on Colfax Avenue and no doubt was headed out of town.”

Brockman rubbed his angular chin. “Well, Kelner is from Kansas City. I’d bet he’s heading home.”

“Mm-hmm,” Jensen said. “I’d say that’s where he’s going, all right. He must figure he has pulled enough holdups in Colorado to do him for a while.”

“Tell you what, Roland,” the chief said. “As you know, I was going to take Norman Yanek here to the Cañon City prison tomorrow.”

The deputy laughed. “But you’re thinking of going after Hank Kelner now and want me to take Norman to Cañon City.”

Brockman grinned. “You’re pretty smart. Remind me to get you a pay raise.”

Sheriff Walt Carter chuckled. “Let me know if that happens, Roland.”

The deputy chuckled as well. “Oh, I will, Sheriff !” Then in a more serious tone he said, “Chief Brockman, I’ll tell the other deputies what has happened and that you’ll be pursuing Kelner. How soon are you going after him?”

“Just as soon as I can get to the hospital and tell my wife where I’m heading.”

“I figured you wouldn’t let any grass grow under your feet. Yanek and I will leave early in the morning.”

“Fine,” Brockman said.

“I hope you catch Kelner real quick,” Roland said.

“I’ll do my best.”

The sheriff and the deputy U.S. marshal left the room as Chief Brockman looked down at Norman Yanek. “I often take prisoners I’ve arrested to the Cañon City prison. I’m sure there will be more, so I’ll see you soon.”

Norman rose to his feet and picked up the Bible with his left hand. “Chief Brockman, thank you again for leading me to the Lord and for giving me this Bible. I’ll look forward to seeing you next time you’re at the prison.” He extended his right hand.

Brockman reached out and gripped it tightly. “It’s been my pleasure, Norman. I’ll look forward to seeing you too.” He headed toward the door. “I’ll have to lock this door, you understand. One of the sheriff’s deputies will be coming soon to take you back to your cell.”

Norman smiled and nodded.

“And if for some reason we don’t see each other here on earth again, I’m glad to say that I’ll meet you in heaven.” With that Brockman stepped into the hall, closed the door, and locked it. He dashed outside, mounted his big black horse, and galloped a few blocks to Denver’s Mile High Hospital. After dismounting and tying the reins to a hitching post, he hurried inside.

Making his way down the central hall, John entered the surgical ward and drew up to the main desk. The attendant at the desk looked up and smiled. “Hello, Chief Brockman. I imagine you’re wanting to see Breanna?”

“Yes, Millie. Is she available?”

“Well, as one of our leading nurses, she stays awfully busy, but you happened to come in at the right time. She just finished assisting Dr. Stockwell with an appendectomy, and she’s in the nurses’ washroom cleaning up. I’ll go tell her you’re here.”

“I’d appreciate that.”

Millie hurried from the desk and entered a door a short distance down the hall. In less than two minutes, she returned and told him that his wife would be out shortly. John thanked her, then moved down the hall and positioned himself close to the door.

A few seconds later, the door swung open and Breanna appeared in her white nurse’s uniform, smiling warmly as she moved toward John. “Millie told me you wanted to see me, darling.”

“Yes.” He smiled down at his blond, blue-eyed wife with love in his eyes. “Let’s move to a more private spot. I have to leave town right away, and I want to tell you about it.”

John took Breanna by the hand, and they walked down the hall.

“Don’t tell me. Let me guess. You’re about to chase after some outlaw to bring him to justice.”

“You guessed right, sweetheart. You’ve heard me talk about Hank Kelner.”

“Yes. His picture has been on your Wanted board for some time. I remember looking at it once or twice.”

“Well, he robbed Dan Haddock at his furniture store a little while ago and shot him.” John clasped Breanna’s hands. “Dan’s dead.”

Her body stiffened in shock. “Oh, John! This is terrible!”

“For sure. I’m going after Kelner immediately.”

Breanna nodded. “You’re going after him alone, like you do most of the time?”

“Yes.”

Breanna took hold of John’s upper arms. “I know that you feel you must chase down this Kelner outlaw personally, darling, but can’t you take at least one of your deputies with you?”

“Right now all of my deputies are working on other assignments. Those in the office have important paperwork to do.”

Breanna’s eyes brimmed with concern.

John smiled. “Don’t you worry now, my love. I’ll be just fine. I know how you pray for my safety and success whenever I’m trailing outlaws. You just keep it up. That cold-blooded killer took the life of a good friend of ours. I’m going to make sure he pays for it.”

Breanna squeezed his arms. “I know you need to do this, John. I’ll be praying for you as always. Come back as soon as you can.”

“You know I will, sweetheart.” He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her soundly. “Tell Paul and Ginny that I love them.”

Breanna smiled up at him. “I’ll do that, darling. I’ll walk you out to Blackie.”

They made their way outside, and John kissed her again, telling her how very much he loved her. Breanna returned the sentiment. Then his big black horse whinnied at Breanna as John mounted up. She patted his neck. “Take care of him, Blackie!”

As Blackie nodded and whinnied again, John told Breanna one more time that he loved her, and she watched horse and rider gallop away. “Go with God, my love.”

When John and Blackie disappeared, Breanna turned and walked back into the hospital with a resigned smile, knowing she had placed her husband in God’s care. There were patients who needed her expertise.

As Chief John Brockman rode out of Denver on Colfax Avenue and onto the Colorado plains, he peered eastward toward the Kansas-Colorado border. “Lord, please let me catch Hank Kelner before he kills someone else.”

Breaking News

March 12th, 2009

Breaking news from The New York Times states that financial stocks led a broad market rally.  The Dow is now above 7,000.  All this despite a jump in jobless claims and a cut in General Electric’s credit rating.  I wouldn’t be getting my hopes up that it will keep going up or even stay above 7,000,

Fish Pedicures

March 10th, 2009

Sounds interesting, doesn’t it?  How on earth can you give a fish a pedicure?  Since you have to have toes in order to have a pedicure, that means no pedicures for anything living in your aquarium.  Now if the owner of the fish (or any other pet) wants a fish pedicure, it can happen. 

But not down here in Florida.  It’s against the law.  They’re worried about sanitation and any kind of animal (except a service animal) is banned in salons.  This procedure apparently originated in Japan and involves putting your feet in a vat of water and allowing a bunch of little fish to nibble away at dead skin.  Now doesn’t that sound as if they’re performing a service?  I guess it’s just not the right kind of service.

                                                                              

When I was a teen, my family lived near a strip pit.  For you city folks, that’s the hole that’s left in the ground when the miners get done stripping it of all the coal.  It just sits there, fills up with water and becomes a small lake or maybe a really big pond.  These can be very deep and thus the threat warning from my parents that we were to never go swimming in the strip pit.  Obedient child that I was, I waited until some friends were visiting before climbing the fence and going swimming.  It was both fun and exciting.  After all, we were doing the forbidden, plus we got our toes nibbled by the little fish who joined us for a swim.  At least, we thought they were little fish.  I think that’s as close as I’ll ever want to get to a fish pedicure.

The Stones

March 10th, 2009

It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old…or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!

You never know when I might play a wild card on you!

Today’s Wild Card author is:
Eleanor K. Gustafson

and the book:

The Stones

Whitaker House (January 5, 2009)

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Eleanor K. Gustafson has been publishing both fiction and nonfiction since 1978 with short stories and articles published in a variety of national and regional publications. The Stones is her fourth novel. In many of her stories, Eleanor explores the cosmic struggle between good and evil in light of God’s overarching work of redemption. A graduate of Wheaton College in Illinois, she has been actively involved in church life as a minister’s wife, teacher, musician, writer, and encourager. She and her husband travel extensively and spend time with their three children and eight grandchildren. They live in Massachusetts, but spend a good deal of time camping at the family forest inVermont.

Visit the author’s website.

Product Details:

List Price: $10.99
Paperback: 601 pages
Publisher: Whitaker House (January 5, 2009)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1603740791
ISBN-13: 978-1603740791

 

I recently finished reading the Biblical account of the life of David, and was really looking forward to reading this novel.  I was not disappointed.  Eleanor Gustafson has definitely captured the essence of David, and brings him to life in technicolor for us.  Eleanor keeps the Scriptural accuracy as she fictionalizes the life of David through the eyes of Asaph, the chief musician at the Tent of the Ark.  This book leaves you with a greater appreciation of this man who is described as a “man after God’s own heart.”

How soon will the movie be out?

 
AND NOW…THE FIRST CHAPTER:

Alphabetical Listing of Characters

(Parentheses designate fictional names, not fictional characters)

Abiathar—High priest

Abigail—David’s half-sister, mother of Amasa

Abigail—David’s third wife

Abishai—son of David’s half-sister Zeruiah and brother of Joab and Asahel

Abital—David’s sixth wife

Absalom—David’s son by Maacah

Achish—Philistine king

Adonijah—David’s son by Haggith

Ahimaaz—son of Zadok

Ahinoam—Saul’s wife

Ahinoam—David’s second wife

Ahimelech—high priest at Nob

Ahithophel—David’s chief counselor

Amasa—son of David’s half-sister Abigail, brief career as commander in chief

Amasai—Mighty Man

Amnon—David’s firstborn by Ahinoam

Asaph—Levite, chief musician at the Tent of the ark, narrator

Barzillai—old friend from Rogelim

Bathsheba—David’s eighth wife, mother of Solomon

Benaiah—chief of David’s bodyguard

(Boaz)—first son of David and Bathsheba

(Caleb and Acsah)—couple who hid messengers

Cush—a Benjamite enemy of David

Daniel/Kileab—David’s son by Abigail

David—king of Judah and Israel

Dodai—Mighty Man, father of Eleazar

Eglah—David’s seventh wife

Eleazar—Mighty Man and one of the Three

Esh-Baal/Ish-Bosheth—son of Saul

Ethan—Levitical musician

Gad—prophet

Goliath—Philistine giant killed by David

Haggith—David’s fifth wife

Hanun—king of Ammon

Heman—Levitical musician

Hushai—David’s friend Ira—Mighty Man

Ithream—David’s son by Eglah

Ittai—Mighty Man

Jashobeam—Mighty Man and mightiest of the Three

Joab—commander in chief of David’s army

Jonadab—David’s nephew

Jonathan—son of Saul, David’s best friend

Jonathan—David’s uncle and counselor

Jonathan—son of Abiathar

(Joram)—David’s servant

Kimham—son of Barzillai and friend of David

Maacah—David’s fourth wife and mother of Absalom

Makir—friend of David

Mephibosheth—crippled son of Jonathan

Michal—David’s first wife and daughter of Saul

Nathan—prophet

Rizpah—Saul’s concubine

Saul—first king of Israel

Shammah—Mighty Man and one of the Three

Sheba—Benjamite insurrectionist

Shephatiah—David’s son by Abital

Shimei—Benjamite gadfly

Shobi—governor of Ammon after his brother’s defeat, David’s friend

Solomon—David’s son by Bathsheba

Tamar—daughter of Maacah and sister of Absalom

Tamar—daughter of Absalom

Uriah—first husband of Bathsheba

Uzzah—Levite whose family guarded the ark after the Philistines’ release

Zadok—priest in the Tent at Gibeon

Zeruiah—David’s half-sister, mother of Abishai, Joab, Asahel

Ziba—Saul’s steward and guardian of Mephibosheth

(Not all warriors and Levites are listed)

Preface

One day I’d like to sit down and chat with King David. “Did I get it right?” I will ask. “I may have done a fair job with the broad strokes, but how about the finer shading—personalities, strengths and weaknesses, capabilities?”

It is details that make or break a fictionalized biography. In this novel, I started with the bare bones of the scriptural account and then, by reading between the lines, layered on flesh and blood. A dangerous task, especially with biblical characters. Some, such as David, Joab, Abigail, and Absalom, have clear markers in Scripture, but with others my intuitive GPS had to show the way. Names alone—Benaiah, Asaph, Nathan the prophet, Obil the camelmaster—don’t tell much. An author must make people rise and walk. The Stones, drawn from a careful study of biblical clues, is my take on the living, breathing people they might have been.

As some characters have been fictionalized, so also incidents have been added to build the rationale for a given character’s actions. That some characters did reprehensible things is not in question; I need to show why they might have done them, or why David reacted as he did in response.

Another aspect of The Stones that may need explanation is its moments of brutality. I would rate this novel PG-13—the same as my rating for the Bible itself. David and his men were warriors—Gibborim—men of blood and violence. That David made it to age seventy amazes me. Furthermore, God gave David the task of fighting and defeating the idolatrous nations surrounding Israel. Indeed, David finished the job Moses and Joshua failed to complete. Before David came on the scene, metaphorical “puddings” made from proverbial “milk and honey” contained idol bits that were hard to digest. After David, though, puddings came out smooth and sweet, and the kingdom expanded its girth from the Negev in the south, up through Syria in the North, and took in Ammon, Moab, and Edom to the east. The Promised Land was now—finally—a feast worthy of the name.

But what about the process? Even more disturbing, what about cherem, the God-ordained practice of wiping out men, women, children, and livestock, while devoting the carnage to God? These are hard questions with no easy answers.

God is holy—my starting premise. Humans, however, are inherently evil, some more so than others. For God to separate a people for Himself, He had to carve away the grossly paganized nations that surrounded Israel. The worship of idols included everything from sorcery and temple prostitution to sacrificing children to the fire-god Molech. The Israelites themselves were only a step away from these practices. During these formative years, drastic sin called for drastic measures.

Did the “real” David and Abigail choke on these matters as we do today? I’ll ask when I see them.

I have used Scripture extensively. Some passages are verbatim quotes (niv translation); others are my own colloquial paraphrases. I have chosen not to include Scripture addresses that would pull the reader out of the story. Most passages, in the interest of space and plot flow, have been abridged. My use of the Aramaic Abba for father is by choice. In Hebrew, the correct correlation would have been Ab or Abi, but these names just didn’t seem to have the same heft to them. Thus, I took the liberty to use the more familiar scriptural nickname.

—Eleanor Gustafson

Scroll One

Chapter One

I dreamed of Goliath last night, strangely enough, considering it was Joab, David’s general, who died yesterday. Perhaps elation was the link—the Israelites’ joy half a century ago when David killed the giant, and mine today when I saw Joab dead on the altar steps.

In my dream, I was trying to question Goliath as I have so many others in compiling this story of David. The picture was silly enough: I, Asaph—all one hundred and forty spineless, Levitical, musician pounds of me, standing eye to navel against this wool-bellied monster who had challenged not only the army of Israel, but the God of Israel, as well. When I talk with people, I try to engage their eyes, but Goliath’s head towered high and remote within its crested helmet. The bloated, belch-rumbling bulge of his middle forced me to bend backwards in an attempt to see around it

Goliath was striding about, his eye on a flurry of activity across the brook. King Saul, tall against his own countrymen but a twig next to the Philistine, was talking with a young lad who had come upon the scene of the face-off. What were they saying? Why was the boy trying on Saul’s armor, walking as though to test its feel, then shaking his head and removing it? Watching this, Goliath worked his shoulders under his own scale armor and stamped his legs to settle bronze greaves in place.

“Goliath, my lord,” I called. “A few questions, if I may.” I trotted beside him, taking five steps to his one. “What are you thinking of in these minutes before your death? I know that’s pretty personal, but—”

“Whose death?” A reasonable question, but he said the words absently, his attention fixed on the knot surrounding the king and the red-haired boy.

“I see you’re watching David over there. He’s the one who will kill you, you know. I know the end of the story.”

The giant’s shaved jowls hung thick and lumpy, his teeth poked brown and rotten between inch-thick lips. His cropped mane added to the illusion of a naked, weak-eyed pimple atop a furry lump of brutishness. I began to understand that my insolent questions got no answers because Goliath’s mind was big enough only to size up an enemy. His left eye circled dangerously. Like another eye I knew.

Joab’s eye.

David headed downstream where he knelt by the brook to sort through stones, measuring their heft and smoothness. My dream’s eye saw him in simple shepherd’s garb, no armor, carrying only his staff and sling. He splashed across the thin stream and faced the giant, intentions clear.

Goliath stiffened, and when his mind caught up with the implications of what his eyes saw, he expanded another foot and turned black with rage. With a mighty whirl that sent his armor bearers sprawling, he spit his injured pride in the direction of the Israelite King Saul, who was watching from his vantage point upstream. “Look a’ me,” the giant roared, thumping a four-foot chest. “Some sorta dog you see? No, you see I, Goliath. I gnaw warrior bones for supper, but here you serve sticks. By the mighty power of Dagon and Asherah, I will strip feathers and flesh from this stork and feed him to rats!”

“Goliath!” David shouted from below. “Never mind the king.” He stood with legs apart and arms akimbo, head cocked rakishly. The first fuzz of manhood sketched red along a face that was fresh, strong, handsome, alive. His voice warbled unpredictably between man and boy.

“That tree trunk of a spear,” the lad called. “I wouldn’t mind having it or the sword your armor bearer is playing with.” His words were light, but his eyes never left the giant.

“Goliath,” the boy went on, “you’ve been a lion against sheep till now. But today I come against you in the name of Yahweh, the Lord of hosts, whom your people say is stuck in a box. The God of Israel will act, and you’ll be the one who’ll fatten rats. The world will know from this day on that Yahweh saves, not by sword and spear, not by size and fear, but by his power alone. I’ve killed lions and bears, you know. Their teeth and claws are sharper than yours.”

David’s voice cracked, provoking laughter. Under its cover David laid aside his staff and drew a stone from his pouch. The Philistine armor bearers danced in anticipation of action at last. Goliath’s left eye began circling again. His face darkened, his arms took on the fur and claws of a bear. A snout, round, fur-flanked and vaguely familiar, poked through his facial armor. Now closer to nineteen feet tall than nine, he reared and roared and was no longer Goliath but a bear-like Joab, David’s loathsome commander in chief. With weapons carriers and shield bearer tight to him, he thundered down the slope toward the shepherd boy. But the lad, to my alarm, appeared to shrivel even as the giant grew. The Joab bear raised his arms, and the updraft sucked my robe until I felt myself being drawn toward the great beast’s maw. David and I both cowered before him. As those claws descended, the armor bearer (whom I also recognized but couldn’t name) sprang from under the shield with the giant’s own sword. With a mighty, two-handed stroke he cut off the great beast’s head. Then he stuck the sword into the ground and leaned on the haft, gasping for breath.

Goliath’s armor bearer was Benaiah.

I woke and lay trembling as the desperate intensity of the dream melted into reality. Joab—ruthless commander in chief of David’s army—was indeed dead, and Benaiah, David’s chief bodyguard, had killed him. The previous evening, I myself had watched Benaiah mount the altar; I saw Joab’s blood ooze down those steps, saw his body carried out for burial.

Why should my dream start with Goliath and end with Joab? My questioning Goliath was one of those whimsical twists dreams take. I’ve talked with nearly everyone else connected with David: why not this giant who played such a pivotal role?

The dream made me see Goliath’s brutishness as a thinly veiled version of Joab’s. Throw in the giant’s awareness of his own power, not just in physical size and strength, but, more significantly, in his strategic importance to the Philistine army. Without Goliath, those enemies of Israel would have had little advantage over Saul and his sons. The parallel was clear: as Goliath was to the Philistines, so Joab was to David. Without Joab—loathsome, loutish Joab—David might well have neither gained nor held his kingdom.

Loathsome, loutish Joab. When Benaiah, David’s chief bodyguard, carried out Solomon’s order of execution, I for one breathed freely for the first time in thirty years.

It happened yesterday at the Tent of the Ark, where Joab had gone for refuge. Adonijah, another of David’s ambitious sons, had made a last, sly attempt to wiggle the throne from Solomon’s grasp, but the new king read him correctly and had him put down.

Adonijah’s death spelled Joab’s doom, for they had schemed together. When Joab got word that the prince had been killed, he came to the Tent, but not in fear. Joab afraid? He would not run from death, but neither would he give his life away. He strolled around the enclosure, measuring each of us in turn. In his eyes, we Levites were fit only for singing and praying and skinning sacrificial animals. He had made my own life miserable on countless occasions, but I took heart that his left eye, subject to circling dangerously, was steady today.

He didn’t go to the place of safety until the rattle of arms outside sent him deliberately, without haste, up the steps of the altar, into the swirling smoke, where he touched blood-blackened fingers to the nearest horn of the altar. It didn’t seem to occur to him that two vile murders would deny him legal sanctuary. Or perhaps he counted on Solomon not wanting to execute a man at the altar. A precarious perch for Joab, but he had survived all those years on equally slender footholds.

Benaiah, backed by his guard, stopped just inside the entrance. He stared at Joab. When he spoke, his voice was tight. Was he—the most powerful soldier under Joab—was Benaiah ben Jehoiada nervous?

“Joab, come out!”

Joab grunted derisively, a small smile twisting his face. “Maybe I should take orders from you?”

“Come down from there, Joab: the king has ordered it.”

“Tell the king to come order it in person. Or better still, tell him to kill me himself. It might give a melon like him backbone!”

After consultation about the propriety of killing even such a man as Joab at the altar, Benaiah and his guard withdrew. Joab straightened, once more surveying the priests and musicians. The breeze wrapped a new cloak of smoke around his tunic. Apart from my nervous fingering of a prayer tassel on my garment, none of us moved or spoke for what seemed hours.

As the last rays of sun faded from the city wall above us, the high priest ordered the lamps lit. With a glance toward the altar, a Levite and a priest turned to the task but scuttled back as Benaiah reentered—with sword in hand. Again Joab smiled, a monster’s ugly grimace. Blood-crusted hands rested on the blood-crusted altar, while the blood of innocents cried out for vindication.

“Once more,” Benaiah spoke, “will you come down?”

Joab straightened proudly. “I will die here—if you’re man enough to kill me.”

His eye gleamed, his tone softened. “We’ve been through a lot, Benaiah, you and I. We go back, don’t we? The battles, the exploits. That day of the snow when you landed in the pit and killed the lion….Do you remember, Benaiah?”

We stood rigid under his spell. Light was fading, and the lamps remained unlit. We shivered, mistaking the growing darkness for cold.

“You’re no youngster, Benaiah,” Joab said. “How long before Solomon puts you out to pasture? You have influence, though. A word from you, and we could put a real man on the—”

“Enough.” Benaiah spoke softly, almost with a touch of regret. The two grizzled warriors locked eyes, celebrating one last moment of shared history, then Benaiah leaped to the steps.

I turned away. Tomorrow the altar must be cleansed of pig’s blood. But for this day, this night,

We give thanks to you, O God,
We give thanks, for your Name is near;
To the arrogant I say, “Boast no more,”
And to the wicked, “Do not lift up your horns.”
But it is God who judges:
He brings one down, He exalts another.