a lot easier hauling pillows through the woods than trying to carry a mattress. He had a folding table and two aluminum chairs, but he never had guests. It had been five years since his last visitor, a duck hunter who surprised him one morning. The hunter stopped for a brief chat then moved on. There weren't any ducks in the area, and the hunter didn't come back.
In good weather Moses cooked outside, which kept his shack from getting smoky or burning down. He kept the kerosene lantern for emergency use and rarely lit it. Except when he went night fishing, he lay down to sleep at dark and woke at dawn.
The old man kept his most prized possession, his johnboat, locked and chained to a tree. The key to the rusty lock hung on a leather strap around his neck. In winter Moses slept in the shack, but the rest of the year he liked to spend several nights a week on his boat. When he finished fishing, he'd tie up at a dock of one of the many houses that lined the waterway in every direction. He preferred the docks as moorings. Too many times, he'd tied up to a tree only to have a snake, spider, or an army of ants invade the boat in the middle of the night.
After he found a spot for the night, he'd remove one of the seats in the johnboat and roll out two rubber mats that he placed on top of each other in the bottom of the boat. He'd stretch out on the mats, drape mosquito netting over the edge of the boat, and watch the stars overhead while the boat gently rocked in the river. The faces in the water couldn't see over the edge of the boat, and after so many years, the memory of innocent blood running off his hands into the river rarely played across his mind. He felt at peace.
However, like a hidden log just beneath the surface of the water, Moses' habit of tying up at the river docks concealed an unknown danger.
AFTER PUTTING ON MY PAJAMAS, I took my Bible and journal downstairs to the front room. I turned on a small lamp and knelt in front of the sofa. God could speak quickly, or he might make me wait. To set a timetable for an answer would be disrespectful to his sovereignty. God was merciful, but prayer wasn't always meant to be a desperation plea by someone wanting a quick fix to a thorny problem.
Divine guidance about a summer legal clerkship with Braddock, Appleby, and Carpenter would have to come indirectly. Savannah, Georgia, didn't appear in the sixty-six books within the black leather cover, and the references to rabbinical lawyers, especially in the New Testament, weren't very complimentary. Any impression I received would be closely scrutinized by my parents.
I started by spending time thanking God for his past love and faithfulness. Although completely sufficient in himself, the Lord, like any parent, appreciated the thanks of a grateful child.
As I thought about God's goodness, I remembered a time in high school when I didn't have the money needed for a weeklong trip to Washington, D.C., and the deposit for the trip was due on a Monday. Without telling anyone except my parents, I prayed for the funds, and after church on Sunday morning a man in our church gave me a check for the exact amount I needed. Remembering how I felt at the time, a wave of emotion touched me, and I wiped a tear from the corner of my eye. More instances of God's goodness came to mind. I momentarily pushed aside the reason for my private prayer meeting.
I loved the Psalms and decided to quote Psalm 100 from memory, placing special emphasis on the verse about entering his gates with thanksgiving and his courts with praise. A civil courthouse was light-years from the place where David worshipped the Lord with all his might, but while meditating on the vast differences, a prayer welled up within me. I knew the next words from my mouth would be important.
'Lord, wherever I go, may I make the court of law a place of praise.'
It was a beautiful thought. To find a place of holiness in the midst of a secular courtroom was something I'd never considered, and I marveled at a new facet of God's greatness. I might not shout 'Hallelujah' in a judge's face, but my soul, like Mary's, could magnify the Lord, and my spirit could rejoice in God, my Savior. And the truth was even greater than that. Wherever I set my foot, not just a courtroom, could be a place of worship.
My mind raced ahead. The practice of law itself could be a place where I praised the Lord. I repeated, 'Lord, wherever I go, may I make the court of law a place of praise,' several times, pausing at different points for emphasis until each word was a brick laid on the solid foundation of faith. My tears returned. The prayer fit my life's journey. Since I was a little girl, I'd been called to live a holy lifeevery thought, word, and deed sanctified to the Lord. Now I could glimpse how this might be fulfilled in a new way in the future.
Lifting my hands in the air, I began to walk back and forth across the room. This was the time to tarry in secret. Not to rush. Praise offered in the night bears fruit in the day. I sat on the couch and made notes in my journal. When I finished, I peeked around the corner and saw the light shining underneath my parents' door. I didn't have an answer to my summer job question, but I was content. I'd received a greater good.
Before getting into bed, I stepped quietly over to the bunk bed, gently laid my hands on the twins, and asked that the grace poured out on me this night might also be theirs. Giving was always a part of receiving.
'GOOD MORNING,' Mama said when I came into the kitchen with a half dozen fresh eggs. She stared at me. 'What happened to you, Tammy Lynn? You're radiant with the joy of the Lord!'
'Yes ma'am. Last night-'
The twins came bursting into the room in the heat of an argument. Emma accused Ellie of switching a pair of good socks for a pair with holes in the toes.
'I know the good ones are mine!' Emma said. 'I put them in the top drawer when I folded my clothes.'
'We both have a good pair and a bad pair,' Ellie responded. 'She's gotten them mixed up.'
Mama pointed upstairs. 'Go back to your room and come back when you have this worked out.'
The twins stomped out. Mama turned to me. 'Wait till your daddy is here to tell me. He's going to stay a few minutes after breakfast so we can talk.'
It was an oatmeal morning. Mama had fixed a huge pot that we dished out and garnished with fresh fruit, raisins, brown sugar, and nuts. Emma and Ellie returned after sorting out the sock con troversy. Daddy and the boys joined us. I sat quietly and ate my breakfast.
Several times Mama glanced at me. Nothing excited her more than the move of the Spirit in a person's life, especially for one of her children. After breakfast, she shooed the twins from the room. Mama scooted close to Daddy and spoke.
'Walter, let her go first.'
Daddy looked surprised. 'Why?'
'Just listen.'
I quietly told them what happened the previous night. At first Mama gave a slight nod or two, but by the time I finished, she'd gotten up from the bench and began walking back and forth across the kitchen, much as I'd done the previous night. When I finished, Daddy pointed at her and grinned.
'The twins are going to get some good preaching during Bible study this morning,' he said.
'I can't sit still when the Spirit is moving like this,' Mama said.
'So, you think it was the Lord?' I asked.
Mama looked to heaven and raised her hands in the air.
'That's a yes,'' Daddy answered, rising from the bench. 'I'll get my Bible.'
He returned with the tattered Bible he used at home.
'You know most of this by heart, but I want to read it,' he said, turning the pages.
He began in Matthew 6, just before Jesus' reference to the lilies of the field. I loved listening to Daddy's voice. He read the Bible as if it was a letter from a loved one. He finished and looked at me.
'The most important thing is to seek first the kingdom. That's what you did last night. I told your mama that if your heart was fixed on the Lord, it would be the sign we needed.' He paused and looked at her. She nodded. 'You have our permission to take the job in Savannah if that's what you believe you're supposed to do.'
It was a serious moment. I felt a shift in responsibility for my life to my own shoulders. A touch of fear gripped me.
'But what do you think I should do?'
'Exactly what you did last night,' Mama answered. 'Hear his voice and obey it.'
'He didn't say anything about the job.'
'What is in your heart to do?'
'My heart is desperately wicked,' I began.
'Stop it!' Mama commanded. 'Don't abandon your faith.'
Daddy spoke more gently. 'Have confidence in God's goodness. Isn't that what you felt last night?'
'Yes sir.'
