Tuesday, October 5, 2010

Isaac & Ishmael Project - Two Worlds Divided

July 15th 1961


We were in Kenya, carrying on our missionary work – handing out bread with a message. We called it Bread Of Life.

Her water broke, she was two weeks early.

The babies came; two boys. I know, I was there, I saw them. As I looked at my wife cradling our boys – I was awe struck. My mind was spinning. “From the two of us two new creations have come. They’re people, real live tiny people.” I never felt closer to The Creator. She never looked so beautiful. She had a radiance that glowed.

And then they were no more.

Through sweat and tears of joy and pain she eyed our sons; “Your father and I – two worlds united, and you…” She hesitated, bit her quivering lip and drew a deep breath… “Isaac and Ishmael; two worlds divided.”

My mind blurred with confusion, we planned to name them Peter (after her father) and David (after King David; a man after God’s own heart). She touched my hand, “I love you – see you soon.” She was gone.

My vision blurred, all went black.

The expanse of the universe cannot contain the breadth of emotion I traveled that day.

I woke to thunder – in my head, and a nurse about to stick a needle in my arm.

“Sarah! Where’s my wife!”

“She didn’t make it” hissed a nurse with the personality of a snake.

“Where’s my boys – I want to see my boys!”

I yanked a bandage off my head and felt a lump the size of a goose egg.

“You bumped your head when you fainted.”


“Fine” the snake hissed and pulled back a curtain dividing the room. One baby – not ours lay in their place – the baby was sickly and at death’s door.

That is not our baby. That baby needs a doctor! Where are our boys? I want to see my wife!

“You’re grief stricken, it’s quite common, you’ve just lost your wife your child is about to die and your mind is playing tricks on you. You’re trying to replace them. You need something to relax.” She held up the needle with a wicked grin.


She slithered out of the room and hissed “I’ll get the doctor.”

She must have found him just outside the door because I heard them trying to whisper but they were too upset and couldn’t control the volume

The snake hissed “He woke up.”

“What – he’s still alive?” A man’s voice snarled.

“He woke before I could give him the shot. You should have hit him harder!”

“Give it to me - I’ll do it myself.”

I somehow managed to exit the window but found myself hanging from a second story ledge above a narrow concrete street.

Suddenly a young man appeared. He was dressed in white, brilliant white. He was strong, bronzed leather over muscle. Ironically he was carrying a ladder, he quickly set it up beneath me and aided in my escape.

I’ve remained hidden ever since.

June 2008

I am an old man now. I’ve given my remaining years in pursuit of the truth about what happened to my boys.

Many times over the years I have been tempted to give up hope. My searching seemed to be in vain. But then I would remember my mother’s letter found me after all those years and it would give me strength to carry on. “Weary not in well doing, for in due season we shall reap if we faint not. Always remember even when things happen we don’t understand – GOD IS LOVE – And love never fails.”

During the presidential campaign in the United States – I started to find answers. All my years of searching started to make sense. Now, I know where my boys are. More importantly, I know who they are.

Whoever reads this journal may not believe what I’m about to write. But I trust my God will reveal the Truth.


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