Isaac & Ishmael Project - The Notebook I

“Whoever tries to keep his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life will preserve it.” 

Jesus ~ Luke 17:33

It is good for you to read this, even though it may cost my life... And, if I perish, I perish.





Why they showed me – I don’t know.



At first, I didn’t understand. And then, I didn’t believe. Now I do. So will you.



Handwritten, yellowed and tattered the notebook held secrets it needed to tell.



I was thinking; actually complaining: “My timing sucks…I must be cracked…what in God’s green creation am I doing out here? Hottest day of the year and I’m going for a walk. And why does it have to be so dang windy? My eyes are burning. This dust is ridiculous. I wish I didn't have to wear contacts they feel like sandpaper...some great prayer walk this is turning out to be - I'm just whining...”

And they showed up. It was weird. They just kind of appeared out-of- thin-air; well more like: thick-dusty-windy-air.

One of them had to be the oldest man I’d ever seen. However, the strength in his eyes didn’t match the wrinkle of his skin. The other: bronzed leather over muscle.

They were clothed in loose fitting white Middle Eastern garb. The old guy’s clothes were worn, dirty and tattered. But the young strong one; his were glowing brilliant white.

Strong eyes held my gaze. Wrinkled hands held a notebook close to his chest. His eyes pierced at first, then softened, then shimmered. I thought he was going to cry, and then I thought I was.

His lip quivered a little and he started to speak, but then, instead, a trembling hand held out the notebook as weathered as the hand that held it.

Speaking eyes looked at me and then at it. As soon as I dropped my gaze he dropped the notebook, and it blew to my left about three feet before hitting the ground. I instinctively jumped to keep it from blowing away; grabbed it and turned…they were gone.

The wind stopped. The dust settled.

I didn’t look around for a chair, a rock or a stump I just sat down right there on the ground. I had to. I was shaking.

I stared at the notebook and then scanned my surroundings. Should I open this? Where did they go? Where did they come from? How could they disappear like that? Am I dreaming? What is this?

The notebook was made of thick yellowed paper covered by worn leather on front and back. It was bound with three cords of leather strung through crudely cut holes.

I opened the first page and found written in large red letters:

 It is good for you to read this, even though it may cost my life...And if I perish, I perish.

TO BE CONTINUED