And the Shofar Blew Read Online Free

“Hmmm. Mommy smells good.”
    “We made cookies today.”
    “Can I have a horseback ride, Daddy?”
    “If you go easy on your old man.” Paul got down on all fours. Timmy swung on and clamped his skinny legs against Paul’s rib cage. Paul reared up and made a whinnying sound. Timmy held on, shrieking with laughter. He kicked his heels twice into Paul’s ribs. “Easy, cowboy!” Paul glanced up at Eunice laughing at them, his heart swelling. How could any man be so blessed? “Good thing he doesn’t have spurs!” He allowed Timmy to ride him around the living room three times before he rolled over, spilling Timmy onto the rug. The child clambered quickly onto Paul’s stomach, bouncing none too gently. “Uh! Uh!” Paul grunted.
    “There’s a call from Dean Whittier on the answering machine,” Eunice said.
    “I haven’t talked with him in a while. What time is it?”
    “Four-thirty.”
    “Airplane ride, Daddy. Please!”
    Paul took him by one arm and one leg and swung him around while Timmy made roaring sounds. “He never leaves the office before six.” He landed his son gently on the sofa. “Let’s play soccer, Timmy.” He kissed Eunice before heading into the backyard. “Give me a whistle at five-thirty, okay? I don’t want to leave the dean hanging.”
    Outside, Timmy kicked the ball to him and he nudged it back. When Timmy tired of the game, Paul pushed him on the swing. When Eunice came to the door, he swung Timmy up on his shoulders and came back inside. She took him. “Time to wash up for supper, munchkin.”
    Paul headed for the telephone. He pushed the button on the answering machine. “This is Dean Whittier. I’ve had a call and I think it concerns you.”
    The cryptic message left Paul uneasy. He flipped open his address book and punched in the number. Dean Whittier had encouraged him through his college years. Paul had tried to keep in touch, but it had been six months since he last talked with him. He was grateful for the dean’s support at Mid-west Christian College, especially when he had felt the pressure of every-one’s expectations. Because he was the son of a well known pastor, some people thought he must have inherited a special kind of anointing. It would’ve surprised everyone to know he’d never been privy to the workings of his father’s church, other than understanding his dad held the reins. Paul had listened and watched parishioners stand in awe of David Hudson and jump to do his bidding.
    Paul had worked hard to earn top standing in his classes. It hadn’t been easy, but he hadn’t dared do less from the time he was old enough to enter school. Anything less than excellence had earned his father’s contempt. His father expected perfection. “Anything less than your best dishonors God.” Paul had struggled to measure up, and had often fallen short of his father’s expectations.
    Dean Whittier had recommended Paul for the position of associate pastor at Mountain High Church, one of the biggest churches in the country. Sometimes Paul felt lost in the masses on Sunday mornings, but as soon as he entered a classroom, he felt at home. He loved to teach, especially small groups where people could open up and talk about their lives and be encouraged in faith.
    “Dean Whittier’s office. This is Mrs. MacPherson. How may I help you?”
    “Hi, Evelyn. How’re you doing?”
    “Paul! How are you? How’s Eunice?”
    “She’s as gorgeous as ever.” He winked at Eunice.
    “And Timmy?”
    He laughed. “He was just playing drums in the kitchen. Future music minister.”
    Evelyn chuckled. “Well, that’s no surprise, considering Eunice’s talents. The dean has someone in his office, but I know he wants to talk with you. Can you hold? I’ll slip him a note and let him know you’re on the line.”
    “Sure. No problem.” He flipped through the mail while he waited. Eunice had already opened the bills. Ouch. The gas bill had gone up. So had the telephone and