Favorite Author Dan Brown Rome Italy


 Last Weekend I celebrated by re-reading another favorite author   Dan Brown Rome Italy and his superb novel, “Inferno”. My Freedom to Travel has also taken me to Rome, Italy and the Vatican.

Perhaps that is why Dan Brown’s book’s resonate with me so strongly. But many Americans don’t share this same Freedom to Travel….

According to the FBI  “It’s sad but true: here in this country, people are being bought, sold, and smuggled like modern-day slaves.

They are trapped in lives of misery—often beaten, starved, and forced to work as prostitutes or to take grueling jobs as migrant, domestic, restaurant, or factory workers with little or no pay. We’re working hard to stop human trafficking—not only because of the personal and psychological toll it takes on society, but also because it facilitates the illegal movement of immigrants across borders and provides a ready source of income for organized crime groups and even terrorists.”

What Are You Doing to help?

Read This Before You Buy Your Next Book!

 If you have a Heart  Go Here

As you know I have been sending free excerpts of The Forgotten to raise awareness of this terrible blight of Child Exploitation. I donate $1.00 per book purchased for worthy causes. My crusade to help will continue, I see no end to this blight on society any time in the near future.

Two of the Biggest Mysteries of Biblical History have always fascinated me.

How did the Dead Sea Scrolls get to the Mountains of Qumran?

Who put them there?

If you ever plan on going to Israel, visit Jerusalem or are a Biblical history buff, learning about the mysteries of Judea in Jesus’ times is a wise investment of your time. You can study the Torah, or as an alternate choice:

For your reading pleasure I present,

“Mysteries of the Dead Sea Scrolls – Revealed”

Excerpt 2. A fictional story of what might have happened.

Hilal's father had also warned him about the mother of all sandstorms that happened at this time of year. If he didn't find shelter soon, it could wipe out his remaining herd. He made a run for it, dropping Noora in the process and she brayed in fear. The herd was now running away from the sandstorm, the hyenas still following their prey, biting and chomping at the flesh of his goats whenever they got close enough.
Zayed was determined to save as many of his goats as he could and tried desperately to steer them toward a mountain pass. He moved side to side behind his flock, banging his stick on the rocks. Behind him, the hyenas slowed down, scared by the howling wind, their bellies full of goat meat.
“Shu, shu, shu, we must hurry!” Zayed shouted to the herd above the howling wind.
He quickly looked around, but could not see Noora. He feared he had lost her to the storm or the hyenas. Wiping a tear from his eye, he stopped suddenly, seeing something move by a nearby thick thorn bush. He ran quickly to see what it was and spotted Noora going into the hidden entrance of a cave. He followed her through the narrow passage, only wide enough for one person.
The entrance curved sharply, opening into a larger passageway. Zayed passed a large recess that had been cut into the upper side of the mountain and still housed enough large heavy rocks to close off the opening. Overhead, a thin furrow had been cut, as if designed so that someone might wedge in animal skins to close off the inhabitants from the night.
Zayed ushered the last of the remaining goats into the shelter and paused for a second to look to the south, watching the ominous dark clouds as they pushed the sandstorm forward.
Only a few moments later, he pulled his scarf up over his nose and mouth as the storm hit. The biting grains of sand batted against the cave entrance.
He turned to the dark interior of the cave and in the dim moonlight just barely visible through the entrance he could see the big, brown eyes of baby Noora.
“I am so happy I found you,” he picked her up and headed a little deeper into the cave to get away from the biting sand, as what remained of his herd gathered around him. As he looked at the walls around him and the darkness that lay ahead, he wondered just what he had stumbled upon.

Bethany, Judea - 31 A.D.

“I worry he will not last the night.” Mary leaned over the sickly white form of her brother Lazarus, mopping his sweaty brow with cold, wet rags. She looked to her sister, Martha.
"It's been over a week since we called for his friend, Jesus, to come and help us; I can't imagine what is taking him so long," she said.
Lazarus had been living with Mary and Martha in Bethany for some time. Now, he lay dying on a reed mat on their mud floor as they had tried to reduce his fever. Nothing seemed to work; he would not eat and was getting weaker and weaker by the hour as the fever retained its grip.
As evening cast its shadow over their small home, an old oil lamp, kept low to save money, showed the concerned faces of his sisters, weeping, still swabbing the sweat from his unconscious brow. Finally, the oil running low, they turned out the lamps and took their prayers into the darkness.
Martha awoke first the following morning, as the early light filtered into their room. She found her brother peaceful, head slightly to one side, still. No breath moved, and his body was cold.
"Mary, Mary, wake up! He's gone."
Mary looked at Lazarus then stood up chanting, "Blessed are you, Lord, our God, King of the universe, the True Judge."
At the same time, she was ripping her night shirt off in small pieces. Martha stood beside her, arm draped over her shoulders comforting her, all the time whispering in her ear to soothe her.
"It is all right, my sister,” she said. “It is out of our hands now. We must prepare his body for a proper burial. We must go and get sanctified water to cleanse him.”
Since Mary and Martha could not afford a casket, they wrapped Lazarus in a prayer shawl and a sheet and finally burial clothing, making his body ready to be taken to his tomb. Prayers and readings from the Torah were already being recited by friends outside the room.
The tomb stone to Lazarus' burial chamber would close him off from the living. As it was rolled back, Mary looked over to Martha, still choking up, "I wish Jesus had arrived in time to save our brother. I just don't understand what could have delayed him so long. Jesus loved Lazarus like his own brother."
Some days after Lazarus had been put to rest, young ragamuffins were out on the streets, playing. Whenever a traveler was spotted approaching town, it was a cause of great excitement and curiosity for the villagers, as not only did visitors bring fresh news, but quite often treats for the village young. As the youngsters spotted a stranger approaching, they ran to see who it was.
From afar, they recognized Jesus. By now everyone in town had heard about the sisters’ disappointment that Jesus had not arrived in time to save Lazarus. Consequently, the children ran back into town shouting excitedly, “Jesus is coming! Jesus is coming! He has arrived!”
In no time, a large crowd assembled, since Jesus was already quite a celebrity. The villagers would have come to see him anyway, but with the added attraction of his absence when Lazarus was dying, people ran to see what would happen.
The ragamuffins led the crowd back out of town to greet Jesus, and as the people approached Jesus, he asked, “Where is Lazarus?”
The children could not restrain their excitement and shouted in unison,
“He is dead! The village put him to rest four days ago!”
Jesus ignored them, continuing his walk into the village. As he reached the center, Mary and Martha approached, still grieving, the sorrow showing on their tear-stained faces and in their swollen eyes. They walked up to Jesus, everyone watching.
Mary tried to hide her feelings about his late arrival, “He’s gone; you missed him. He was very ill; we couldn’t save him.”
Jesus looked at her with great empathy, “I am the resurrection and the life. He that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live. And whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die.”
He looked at the surprised sisters, smiling and thinking that they had no idea what he planned. “Take me to his tomb!” he demanded loudly.
The crowd was even more surprised when Jesus ordered imperiously, after arriving at the tomb, “Roll back the stone covering the entrance.”
He waited while some men came forward to roll back the stone covering the tomb. It had been placed in a little depression to keep it ‘locked’ in position, so it took quite an effort to start the stone rolling up the slight incline to flatter surface.





“The Forgotten by Spencer Hawke”

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