“The old man pinned me with his eyes. He stared as if he knew me. But we’d never met. There’s no way I’d ever forget those eyes.
His wrinkled hands held something close to his chest. His eyes pierced at first, then softened, then shimmered. I thought he was about to cry, and then…thought I was.
His lip quivered a little and he started to speak, but then, instead, he held out something that looked like an old hand made journal—it was as weathered as the hand that held it.
He lowered his eyes to his trembling hand.
As soon as I dropped my eyes to the journal—he released it.
The wind hurled it to my left about three feet. I jumped. Snatched it up and turned around…they were gone.
All went silent. The wind stopped. The dust settled.
I didn't look for a chair, a rock or a stump. I dropped right where I stood…
“…Dear Friend, This will be my last entry in this journal— perhaps my last night on this earth.
I don't know you, but I have prayed for you...tomorrow we meet.
Today, for the first time in my life I have set foot on American soil.
My white clothed friend, who I am certain now, is an angel sent by God. He said he would take me to someone who would know what to do.
I trust God will guide you.
My friend, please forgive me for putting your life at risk.
There are those who do not want this information revealed. Death is a way of life for them. They will not hesitate to take yours.
Be prayerful my brother.
I am sitting in a hotel room. Independence Day lights the sky of this wonderful nation. I fear the rockets aglow in celebration will soon be rockets aglow in annihilation, unless America learns to celebrate her dependence on The God who gave her birth.
My attention turns to my sons.
One was to trained to lead Allah's army in war. The other, an instrument of change. A charismatic leader to usher in a new world order, Islam’s caliphate.
Puppets they have been. Both of them, pawns of the devil…
I give you this one charge–PRAY!”
Is it just a story, or is it a peak behind today's headlines?