Missing Saints

By Karen Mercado

When the Rapture occurs, the entire world will be in a state of panic. The ones left who will have the answers to what is really happening, according to the Bible, will be the ones preoccupied with their own challenges and not so eager to explain what they know out of fear of being captured, persecuted, or executed for their faith in God. Christians will turn into a self–sufficient society because of an inability to buy, sell, or trade, which will result from them refusing the 666 Mark of the Beast. The government will become so big that most people will depend on it and will blame the chaos on the disappearances of Christians. That will fuel the hatred of the ungodly toward the Christians. This book provides hope, according to the teachings of Jesus, to the people who remain after the Rapture. Even when God turns His back on this world, it will not be too late to come to Him, although time will be running out. Some people will successfully find ways to survive in the last days. It will be quite a survival game. Those who have it figured out will use Revelation as a guide to prepare themselves physically, mentally, and spiritually. I hope to paint a picture of what the world might look like in a fictional sense so that people can have hope for their future, know what to expect, and know that God still loves every one of us. He wants no man to perish. He came so that we may have life abundantly. What will that mean for the ones left behind?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: May 5, 2019
• ISBN: 9781643507675

Book preview

Chapter 1

Summer Bliss

It was summertime in Georgia. Claire had a feeling that upon meeting the man who would be God’s choice for her, she would be unprepared. Claire certainly wasn’t looking for a husband that day.

JohnBoy was a brother figure with whom Claire had regularly discussed over the years what she was looking for in a husband. He had given Claire lots of Christian advice on what husbands should expect from their wives. One afternoon, JohnBoy happened to be over at Claire’s house visiting with her family. He looked out the window to see her annoyingly flipping through her magazine as she sat next to the pecan tree. He walked out to see what was bothering her.

What’s going on? he asked.

Hey, buddy. For all the years she had known John, Claire knew she could get right to the point with him. Well, I’ve decided something, John. Gone are the days of settling for less. If I want to do doughnuts in my pasture with my man’s cool convertible and spin his car around, I don’t need to hear any static in the background from him. He doesn’t need to be nagging me, all worried that I’m going to mess up his precious ride. Yep, the bar has been raised higher. No more tolerating silly games, wishy-washiness, or indecisiveness. I’ll study abroad and find my dream guy in Spain: a real man with a killer accent. That’s right.

JohnBoy sat down beside Claire. His look of concern made her curious. Hmm. What could possibly be going on in his Martian mind that would be different from all the rest of them? She wondered.

Spain? he asked.

Why not? I’ll have my cake while I do what I’ve always wanted to … study foreign language abroad.

JohnBoy began his response, I could give you my opinion but not unless you ask me for it. So, I’ll just sit here and wait until you ask. You know me, just mindin’ my own business. That’s me. Clickity-click. His fingertips tapped.

Claire grinned. Okay, goober, what’s your opinion?

Okay, so let me get this straight: if Mr. Right comes along, the one God has for you, the love of your life, and he doesn’t have some impressive career or college degree, you’re just going to let him walk? Would you turn him down because of that?

I don’t know, she said, shaking her head.

Claire, I understand you are tired of the games and nonsense, but some people are not everything they appear to be beneath the pretty package and the fine provisions they seem to provide. Character is much more important. Just be careful in thinking that you know what you need because only God knows what you really need.

JohnBoy seemed to have more sense than all the guys combined.

As Claire’s agitation began to subside, she discovered that there was more on his mind than trying to explain why men can be so annoyingly complicated.

JohnBoy had asked her many times to visit his church. Even though she felt too old to be in the youth group, she went anyway. During her first visit to Abundant Life Pentecostal Church, Claire noticed how the architectural structure of the outside looked more like some eighteenth-century church in Rome. The inside was nothing like her home church, which seemed more like a modern-day castle with its Spanish arches and a courtyard in the middle. The Abundant Life church had none of the delicate trim work that she remembered in her cathedral growing up. The interior was rather plain and dull. Yet from the first time she’d pushed through its plain doors, it was apparent this wasn’t an ordinary church.

Once Claire entered the youth room, she noticed so many familiar faces in the crowd.—young people she already knew. After many welcoming hugs and greetings of casual pecks on the cheeks, Claire took a seat. The youth were vibrant and had a strong bond with each another. They were rapidly growing in numbers, and the atmosphere was casual with very few formalities—the relaxed atmosphere that she wasn’t used to, yet liked. Joe, the youth pastor and his lovely wife, were filling in until they got a permanent youth minister. Joe began to pray for the requests given.

Lord, you know the need that we have of a full-time youth pastor. We want the right one and the person of Your choice. Please bring him forth. Joe then referred to a verse that he read out loud. In Matthew 7:7–8, Jesus told His followers, ‘Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives; the one who seeks finds; and to the one who knocks the door will be opened.’ If the desires of our hearts are pleasing to God, then He is happy to grant them. We must commit our ways to Him first.

A few weeks had passed from the time that Pastor Joe had asked for a full-time youth pastor as Claire had also quietly prayed for a husband. She had waited a long time for the right man. She had dated some classy, attractive men, and she was determined to get it right.

Claire promised JohnBoy that she would visit again on a Wednesday. JohnBoy had asked, Why don’t you just come visit again and see if you like it. If you don’t, then you don’t ever have to visit again.

I liked it the first time, so, okay, yes, I’ll visit again Wednesday for Bible study, she replied.

A few days later was Wednesday afternoon when Claire entered the youth room a second time. She noticed a tall, dark, and strikingly handsome man giving his testimony and playing his guitar. This man would have to be Hispanic, not white. Caramel, she thought. Her cousin Tessa was sitting on the second pew grinning back at her as if she were wondering if Claire had noticed their gorgeous new leader. Claire flashed Tessa a grin as though they were thinking alike. Wow, he’s incredibly cute, Claire thought to herself. Tessa was wondering if someone had introduced him yet.

Claire had known that mischievous smile of Tessa’s before, from crashing the ant beds on the family farm while riding on go-carts to mud throwing when the lakes were drained to the sleigh rides on the huge tin Coca-Cola top pulled behind the family tractor. Claire and her cousins had bailed just before the sleigh top hit a tree, sending them toppling over onto the snow and laughing so hard that she had accidently stepped on a frozen cow patty that crunched. Then there were the cool Atari games from the eighties, along with matching jams, big hair, jelly bracelets, and Converse shoes.

What seemed like a slow moment in time felt strange to Claire. Then, the youth pastor turned and saw her as she chose a seat on the back pew. In that moment, she was blind to everything but his dark eyes, his nice tanned face, and his captivating smile. Oh, he was a fine-looking one, indeed. His gaze focused on her as if he could see no one else in the room.

Claire got up from the church pew and began to socialize with all of her hometown acquaintances. JohnBoy introduced Claire to the hunk after the service, but she figured that the young Hispanic youth pastor was wearing a wedding ring. Then, she noticed that his left hand was vacant.

With a kiss, she felt the light touch of his lips on her hand and a slight squeeze. His name was Mario. With dark hair, bronze skin, a powerful build, a gorgeous smile, and a firm handshake, Mario was every girl’s dream. He was a perfect ten on the outside and appeared to be an independent, godly man on the inside. He was the real deal.

Nice to meet you, Claire politely said before she turned to leave.

There were many girls in youth groups who had tried for several years to play matchmaker for Mario, but he had not been interested. Madison, a young girl in Mario’s youth group, called Claire the next morning to inform her that their youth pastor now wanted to go out with her. Madison sounded very sincere as she told Claire, He needs a wife—someone who can cook for him. That poor thing is living off TV dinners.

Madison shared that Mario had not expressed an interest in dating anyone since he became the youth pastor until yesterday afternoon when he confided to her, There was one girl that caught my eye recently.

Madison was very anxious to know whom he was referring to, so Mario began describing the girl who showed up last night at his service.

He then said, She was a visitor at church Wednesday night. She’s tall, pretty, has long hair, beautiful eyes, and tiny little feet. She had on a peach pair of slacks and a cream-colored blouse. She sat on the back row.

Madison immediately knew whom he meant. She exclaimed, Oh! I know her! She’s sweet, and you should call her! She’s a nice girl. Immediately Madison got Claire’s number for him.

Claire only lived about five miles from the church on a beautiful farm—one with many lakes, target practicing mounds, creeks, a dove field, a buckeye field where the rare seed was found, and plenty of campsites. All had originally been owned by her wealthy late grandfather, one who had known the cattle business inside and out.

The first time that Mario called Claire’s house, her mom answered the phone, but Mario chickened out and quickly hung up. The second time, Claire answered the phone. They chatted briefly, and he asked her out. She was twenty-two years old at the time.

Their first date was at a local Mexican restaurant. Mario certainly captured Claire’s attention when he told her that he was, in fact, Hispanic and could speak Spanish.

Hablas Español?

Si, claro, he stated. Y vamos hablar en Español.

Claire was speechless for a moment. Then her smile just kept going. This must be the one, she thought. Of course, she wouldn’t dare reveal that just yet. God had put the desire to learn more about the Spanish culture in her at a young age. Her plan was to learn many languages, and through the years Claire had gained a vast knowledge of the Spanish language and romantic culture from high school and college. She didn’t know then that the Lord was preparing her for a Spanish husband.

I’m a funny mixture. Claire told him. Dad’s people are from Scotland and Ireland, and Mom’s lineage of people are from Cork, Ireland. Those people gave Cork, Georgia, the town right up the road, its name.

On their first dates, Mario would play Mi Tierra by Gloria Estefan. It is a song about the beautiful island of Cuba. Mario and Claire would analyze what her songs were saying and translate them to each other in their own words. Their Spanish conversations back then were far from perfect, but it was a unique common ground as Mario shared his street Spanish and Claire shared her proper Spanish.

In the weeks that passed, Claire became delighted to have a best friend who lived the language and culture that she had always loved.

* * * * *

Growing up, Claire and her family didn’t just have dinner, they had feasts. Sunday lunch was a big deal. Fresh bouquets, crystal, and glimmering fine china were an everyday sight. Aunt Judy and all the ladies in the family were eager and ready to see who could perfect the greatest feast. Each one was a seized opportunity to show off their experienced cooking skills. There was a special hospitality felt sharing the formalities that had been passed on from former Irish generations. Perhaps they feared that once those standards were lost, standards would be lost forever, so the family persisted.

After the first date, Mario came over to eat dinner every night for the next two months. As someone who was living off TV dinners, he gladly accepted her offer. Claire’s mom, Martha, believed that every pastor needed to be fattened up a bit, so Mario gained thirty pounds that first month. Those were the carefree days of romance, bliss, and warm fuzzies. Claire tagged along to many youth events where Mario taught.

Sometimes Mario would play the Spanish bullfight song on his guitar as the two sat by the pool in the evening with their feet in the cool water as they overlooked the dreamy lake in the background. Claire ran a finger through the water, then reached for one of Martha’s freshly baked yeast rolls, dragging it through olive oil and sea salt before stuffing part of it in her mouth. The reflection of the evening sun shimmered across the lake. When the music stopped, nature had its own playful chorus of cicadas, June bugs, and July flies as they sat and listened. Confederate jasmine covered the trellis above them as they swung. They spent many afternoons fishing in the lake, swimming in the pool, playing tennis, and exploring the rest of the cattle farm where Claire grew up.

The warm breeze created tiny ripples across the lake as they walked on and pondered their childhood memories. Of the million memories of this homeplace, I have to tell you about Baby the pig, Claire told him. "One day, a black baby piglet was rescued and brought home from the family meat processing plant owned by my grandfather. I remember the first grunts of that precious and sensitive little pig. There was no need to fence Baby in because he never ventured far from us. Baby would greet every guest as they arrived. Baby had a low-pitched, long, steady, yet gentle squeal that would continue when he was rubbed under the neck. When the school bus slowly made its way across our property, the kids pointed and stared in amazement at Baby who was usually busy cleaning up the fallen apples. That’s when we would bring out key lime pies, cookies, and leftovers from our feasts for Baby to eat.

Baby always got showered down in the heat of the day since pigs don’t have sweat glands. During the light sprinkle from the water hose, Baby’s mouth was wide open the whole time. Once everyone finally went inside, Baby could still see us through the glass door, and he would let out a very loud high-pitched cry because he didn’t like to be by himself, and his feelings were hurt. He was an extremely social pig. Baby was by far the best pet ever. That pig followed me around like a lost puppy.

They reminisced about childhood memories together as they made their way across the road to Uncle Bill and Aunt Judy’s house. Claire felt his hand on her hip as they passed through the beloved green countryside sprinkled with sleepy-faced cattle, creeks, and lakes. The pear trees were heavy with ready fruit. This land that she’d known since she was born had become a vital part of her. They watched as the cows ate pears that were thrown to them over the fence.

Jesus said, My sheep will know my voice. Sheep will only respond to their shepherd’s voice and no one else’s. A lot of times cows can be the same way. Uncle Bill was like Larry the Cable Guy on pot. He made everyone laugh. His cows certainly knew his voice. Come get some shuga, babies! Come on over here, babies! Give me some shuga!

The cows all recognized Bill as if he were their daddy and shepherd. They quickly turned around and walked toward him. Bill was their shepherd. Everyone laughed at their slobby noses as they shoved the juicy fruit in their mouths.

Uncle Bill turned to face Claire. Just as a shepherd would gather his sheep, God will gather His own very soon, he said. Distracted with courtship, the two ignored the comment and headed home while they continued their chat. Now it’s your turn to tell me about childhood stories, Claire suggested.

His rosy cheeks reflected a mischievous grin. Growing up, my brothers and sisters would call me Snoopy because I was always getting into trouble. One afternoon when I was a small kid, I was standing on the side of the road down the street from my house. I started playing with some matches, piddling around trying to start a little fire. There happened to be an old mattress on the corner that someone had thrown out. I didn’t think the matches were lit when I threw them onto the mattress, but it was a hot day. Once I had walked up to my house, I looked back to see the mattress totally engulfed in flames. I was thinking ‘Oh no, what have I done?’ Then, I saw fire trucks coming around to put the fire out. I just nonchalantly walked home pretending like nothing had happened. But, I’ve mellowed out quite a bit since then.

Not a cloud was the sky as Claire as she drew him toward a path that led through the woods and over a bridge. The scent of Grandma Elizabeth’s azalea garden was in the air. The two gazed at the brown trout in the creek down below where she’d spent summer days wading in the water and feeling the tiny fish nibble at her feet.

Let’s enjoy the picnic here, she said, spreading the blanket in the shade between two oak trees next to the creek. She grabbed the basket of sandwiches, figs, chips, and Coca-cola bottles. After getting situated, Mario pulled at one of her curls. Let me see it down.

Pulling out the metal pins from her bun, she could feel the silkiness of her thick hair tumbling down over her face. She shook her head and tossed back her golden mane. He stroked her loosened hair and turned her face toward his for a kiss. Then, the two enjoyed their pastrami sandwiches.

It’s quite an amazing place here, Mario mused.

I’ve come to this creek quite often since I was a young girl. I would catch the minnows, feed them to my cat, and play army with friends of mine and my brother’s. When the beavers would mess up the creek by stopping up the dam, we waited for the perfect time to blow up their mounds and take them out. Everyone camped out and built bonfires by the city pond just across the pasture, but the skeet shooting, target practicing, and frog gigging were all done here at that pond, she told him, as she pointed toward her house.

As a classy Southern belle, even though she knew the rules of etiquette and practiced them well, when it was time to go have fun on the farm, she was ready to leave behind all that pomp and circumstance. She had a touch of her father’s creative-genius intellect and her mother’s spunkiness, but she was one who ran her own race. She’d been sheltered and privileged. Her roots were entirely different from the back alleys and street life that Mario had been accustomed to. He’d taken three jobs while in college, determined to overcome the poverty he’d known.

Laughing all the way, the walk back home was just as pleasant as the last one for Mario and Claire as they walked hand in hand and continued to talk about their childhood. Mario noticed the sweet dewiness of her skin as it glowed in the evening sun. Recognizing desire in his eyes, she said nothing as her cheek brushed against his shoulder. He taught her a few slang phrases in Spanish, and as the evening progressed, they began studying some very important French, but she made him earn every kiss. As she walked him back to his car and gave him a kiss, her tone suddenly became serious. She firmly clutched his jacket while pulling him close to her.

I know your motives are pure, but don’t play me, Mario. I’m not like other girls. When she let go of his jacket, he moved in closer.

I won’t. And no, you aren’t. You don’t have to worry about me when it comes to that. His fingers played with the ends of her spiral curls, pulling them down, then watching them bounce back up like springs. See you tomorrow, he said with a grin.

While Mario was in the military, she was still in high school. He was older and seemed much more mature, responsible, and trustworthy than the boys she’d dated.

After one month of courtship, JohnBoy assured Claire that she was definitely Mario’s type. In other words, you feel that this man is definitely not sportfishing? Claire asked. She knew exactly how to tell if a man was just in a relationship for the thrill. She had too much self-respect and intelligence to get caught up in a man’s game of sportfishing because she could recognize the signs in advance.

Nope. He’s not like that. He ain’t lookin’ for a party girl who has no rules, requirements, or self-respect.

Claire grinned. Good, because I don’t want a man like that either.

You two are a good match for each other, he said.

I think you’re right, she responded.

As she slept that night, she remembered the day before as her little car had made its way up five levels of a desolate parking deck in a nearby city. They could see for miles as they looked over the rail.

This is the best-kept secret in this town, she had told him as the salsa music had played, and she then twirled around to meet his sexy brown eyes.

Why do your parents sometimes call you Cupid?

What?

Cupid … What’s with the nickname?

Oh. I was born only a few hours before Valentine’s Day, plus I was Cupid in a play in kindergarten.

Cute … Snoopy and Cupid.

Claire couldn’t sleep for thinking of the way his cheek felt brushing softly against hers as they slow danced to Want You, Miss You, Love You by Cheyenne.

"You’re my best friend. God brought me here not to just be a youth pastor, but to meet you. I’ve loved you from the day that I met you. Te quiero con todo, mi corazon. So will you marry me? You don’t have to give me an answer right away. Take some time to think about it if you need to. I don’t have a ring yet, but if you can be patient with me, I will do my best to get one." As a typical Latin, Mario was enthusiastic, outspoken, very opinionated, and needed no coaching in romanticism.

She paused.

He continued. I can’t think of anything else but you. I am truly mad about you.

Her smile spreads wider. I feel the same for you.

Truly?

Yes.

Well then, marry me.

Claire got quiet for a moment, and then she turned around to face him. I don’t need to think about it. Yes, I’ll marry you.

Mario giggled. You don’t want yourself a white man?

Nope. Don’t want white. I want … caramel, she said, grinning.

And I want vanilla.

Claire was finally engaged to be married to that cute Hispanic youth pastor. She wore his jacket, listened to his music, accepted his proposal, and even though she knew nothing about the realities of living on her own, he’d never known a girl quite like her. Her mass of curls and sea green eyes intoxicated him. Claire’s father gave his blessing, I’m not losing my daughter. I’m gaining a son.

Days after Mario’s proposal, Claire inherited a wedding ring from her late grandparents. She first noticed the black-and-white picture underneath the little blue box that was taken in the 1920s. She would have thought Grandma Elizabeth was Marilyn Monroe based on the way she’d leaned against her husband’s antique Ford with one leg spiked behind her, one hand on her hip, and her husband’s arm around her. They thought they were hot stuff. In the picture, Grandpa Bear flashed that same smile that was quite treasured and coveted by the owners of a local furniture store, a group of women who were forever making their comments to Claire, Ooh, child! Your grandfather was quite handsome in his day, Lord, have mercy! They would say while sitting in that furniture store in Jackson waiting for customers while eating Martha’s divinity, giggling like a bunch of schoolgirls who were pushing seventy.

Her grandpa’s naturally curly hair had so much Brill cream in it that you could see it from far away. Claire remembered the way he threw his head back in laughter at the sizzling sound from a fat healthy bat that flew into his big superpowered bug zapper. The thought caused her to giggle. He loved his land and had taken care of his family, children, and grandchildren.

When Claire was nine, she enjoyed Grandma Elizabeth’s home just across the road. The back porch smelled of her grandma’s favorite violets. Although the inside felt like an icebox in the summertime, there were fish aquariums in nearly every room in the house. There were toy boxes, trampolines, game rooms, azalea gardens to play hide-and-seek in, and vineyards, heavy with clusters of ripe muscadines.

At lunchtime, her ninety-five-year-old great-uncle would stir up all the food on his plate into one gross pile. Little Claire tried not to look at it. After he was done eating, he would take his false teeth out and toss them into his sweet tea in order to clean them off. After a Saturday afternoon swim, Grandma Elizabeth would bring a tray full of goodies. Then, there was shopping at the mall when her husband would stuff thick rolls of twenty-dollar bills in Elizabeth’s purse so that she would not have to figure out how to give correct change. As a multimillionaire who’d owned a little monopoly of businesses, Bear had become successful in the propane industry, raising cattle, the meat processing plant, and stock investments.

Claire etched herself back to the present as she opened the little velvet-lined box that her mom gave her. It revealed a white gold band with five diamonds lined in a row. Oh, we got married in a fever … hotter than a pepper sprout. We been talkin’ bout Jackson, a male country singer warbled in the background. She took the ring and slipped it on her delicate finger. No need to get it resized; Elizabeth’s ring fit her tiny finger as if it had been made just for her. They weren’t the biggest diamonds around, but this classy ring from the 1920s was quite a family heirloom.

The next month was a whirlwind of wedding preparations. Instead of having a big wedding, Claire chose a modest one with a bigger dowry.

Claire’s unsuspecting Mama agreed to cater the entire wedding. As a well-known caterer who made the front cover of The Smithsonian Food Edition, her mother, Martha, was well equipped for the task. Her goal: every slice of cake would taste as delectable as it looked. If it wasn’t perfect, then it just wouldn’t do, because perfection was the name of the game for Martha. Spreading the rich cream cheese icing over her daughter’s wedding cake, she pulled back, giving it one last condescending look while Ms. Gigi added the remaining flowers and decorations.

Throwing fancy parties and elaborate weddings was Martha’s specialty, and she made it look like an easy task. After Martha completed her delectable masterpiece, her cheesecake, she drizzled warm chocolate over it, cocked her head to the side in quiet admiration, then motioned for her help to follow. With three types of cakes, a sit-down dinner, and the dress picked out, she’d tackled it smoothly. Martha sighed a breath of relief. After supervising the workers, she then stood up, adjusted the peach roses on the table, took off her apron, washed her hands at the artesian well, and took her place among the wedding party.

The sound of Ray Boltz echoed in the background. She gave me butterfly kisses after bedtime prayer.

At her childhood home, next to the same pool they had dangled their feet in while they dated, Mario and Claire said their vows underneath the jasmine-covered trellis in the cool September breeze. During the wedding, many people pointed at the little hummingbird that hovered for several seconds right above Claire’s face. It stared right at her and continued to hover as if it couldn’t determine the nature of the white figure standing in front of it. The sound of its fluttering wings was audible, and then it suddenly flew away. Hummingbirds, to Claire, were symbolic of God’s favor.

Snoopy and Cupid exchanged vows, and surprisingly, no one got thrown into the pool.

You can stop kissing now, the pastor added as the audience giggled.

At the reception in the front yard, the crowd was oblivious as to what was forming in the sky above them. Apple dumplings and cream cheese pound cake moved about together on a plate among the cream-colored cloth tents set with long tables, each one topped with peach roses. The lush length of fabric glided across the entrance of each end of the tents until Martha tied each one of them with a satin cord into a perfect Savoy knot. Each of them plowed into their charcoaled filet mignon and smothered chicken covered with Parmigiano-Reggiano. Others ate a bite or two of the fried green tomatoes from the platter that was passed around. The juices of the chicken and steak created a vapor of steam.

At eleven o’clock, a breeze was sending up fresh scents of wedding cake and baked yeast rolls from the kitchen. The cake was cut, then Mario pushed past tent fabric and pointed upward to the red ball in the sky.

Look, they call it a blood moon. The guests ceased from feasting and pulled back the tent cloth to study the strange sight. A few friends from town parked beside the road to buy one of Martha’s cookbooks, but sneaked in to sample the cakes and yeast rolls. They wanted to talk about the never-to-be-forgotten snow days when Uncle Bill pulled everyone on his tractor in the metal Coca-Cola top while his wife was inside making their famous wedding soup.

Claire studied the blood moon for a moment before cutting the cake. Pretty.

Well, some people call it something else because they don’t want to actually give reference to it being in the Bible, Mario told her.

The crowd quieted. Everyone marveled at the sight, but Claire was more concerned about licking the buttercream frosting off both sides of her fork.

The moon had set 100 percent when the pictures were taken.

The next day, the wedding pictures came back.

Wait a minute, Claire didn’t wear a veil, so what is the white part just above her head? her brother asked.

Martha leaned forward to notice the white rim around the top of Claire’s head.

Oh, you know what that is? That’s Ms. Gloria’s white hair, the lady who taught her Sunday school when she was very young, Claire’s brother stated.

In the photo, Ms. Gloria was standing directly behind Claire, making it seem like Claire had on a veil. Ms. Gloria’s beautiful white hair was Claire’s veil. Ms. Gloria had warned that the Lord was getting ready to come back for his bride, the church, but no one seemed to be paying attention.

They viewed the last picture of the couple cutting the cake with the blood moon in the background.

* * * * *

It had been two years since their wedding day in December. Claire and Mario were ready to come back to their hometown in Georgia. They put their Florida home up for sale, prayed over the sign, and the house sold two weeks later. Claire still had to finish out her two weeks of work in Florida, but she took a vacation to Georgia before that.

Sunday morning, Jackson, Georgia

Claire was dressed like a winter princess in baby blue and cream with fur on the inside her hood. She pulled back the hood and daydreamed in her hometown church during a vacation one Sunday. Candles flickered inside the Himalayan sea salt blocks along the church windows. A deep rose color at the top faded into light pink at the bottom. The pink brilliance illuminated the sanctuary of the church, as Claire remembered the warmth of the Florida sunshine and the beauty of her favorite beach in Clearwater, one that she would see for the last time before returning to her hometown. The sand had been the purest white. Parrots had perched on the arms of skaters who had passed by on the sidewalk. On that day, the ocean had been an iridescent blue full of activity with pelicans, seagulls, catamarans, and opportunists at play.

Dressed in her best baby-blue dress, Claire settled the pearls on her neck and pulled at the hem of her gown. As she sat in the padded pew, she reminisced of her time in Florida. The pastor’s voice was full of emotion as he described a little girl at the beach. It was as if the pastor was talking straight to Claire.

The waves were getting bigger as the tide was becoming stronger. The powerful current only escalated as the five-year-old began trying desperately to fight her way past it. Her arms and legs were working hard to overcome her predicament. She was exhausted when she realized the current was too strong for her, and she began sinking down into the water. Just as she thought she would take her last breath, she felt a pair of gentle hands around her waist that lifted her up from the water. As she hacked and coughed in the salty air, she wondered who had been paying attention to her. Someone noticed that she was in trouble enough to run to her in her time of need. There were a few other people on the beach, but they were in their own world having fun.

In that moment, Claire realized that the pastor was talking about her that day at the beach when at age five, her own father searched for her among the waves after her battle with the current. The pastor’s voice grew more emotional as he gave his intense analogy of the Rapture.

As those same welcoming hands turned her tiny body around, she beheld a familiar face she’d known all her life. Her daddy wasn’t about to let her out of his sight. Once the father discovered his girl was missing, he had one goal in mind. Every other task at hand was no longer important at that time. Her father had seen her from afar and had run to her.

At the end of that story, you could hear a pin drop in that Baptist church. Faces of flushed pink were all over the congregation. The sun blazed through the fifteen-foot-high stained glass windows of the immaculate sanctuary where the people were speechless. Once the Lord is ready to come back and gather up His children, no task will be more important to Him, and it will happen in a split second. Picture a Father whom we’ve known all of our lives whose face, Jesus, we’ve never personally seen, and we finally see Him for the first time.

The lady in the next pew had stiff hair. Her hairspray was so heavy that Claire wondered that if she pinched it would it crunch and fall off. God had everyone’s attention in that quiet moment. In Mario’s Pentecostal church, the evidence of people being deeply moved exploded with shouts, claps, and dozens of amens. It was First Baptist Church in Jackson, Georgia, where the towering multicolored stained glass windows lined each side of the sanctuary and the arches and columns of its courtyard reminded Claire of a lovely Mediterranean-style villa. It was a church of extraordinary beauty and style. The evidence of God’s move was in the reverence of stillness and quietness. It was funny to her how everyone showed emotion and worshipped differently. And, neither way was wrong in God’s eyes, she believed.

As Claire sat in her padded pew while on temporary leave from her job in Florida, she admired the architectural beauty of her Baptist mansion, the home church where she’d spent many Wednesday afternoons brushing up on her Spanish while her mama would prepare to cater the evening meal before service. Unable to tolerate another moment of chattering, Claire would get out of the church kitchen right before crunch time. She’d grabbed her glazed doughnut with Bavarian cream and traipsed to the sanctuary. Choosing peace and quiet above rapid static, Claire retreated. Come away with me, said the Lord. During those quiet moments of solitude when the church was empty, she would steal away and play a strangely moving piece on the piano as the sun beamed through the stained glass, creating a glow and making it feel like a welcoming castle.

It was a setting of exquisite beauty, one that made her feel as if time stood still. She felt the presence of God in a way that most people didn’t. The courtyard was exquisite with its pink rose bushes that bordered the Spanish arched walkways. She was strengthened by that moment while God prepared her for the days ahead. She wanted to hear what God was saying to her.

Though she was quite a social bug, Claire preferred to bask in those quiet Wednesday evenings before the crowds would come. With the comfort of quiet and stillness came fewer problems, needs, and unwelcomed baggage. She remembered those blissful days when every hour was golden, and her entire world felt so pure and perfect.

Two years had passed since that time, and Claire marveled at how life surely had continued in her absence. Friends changed cities and started families. Even the church was now bigger with a major add-on in the back.

The sun was shining once again through the stained glass. The end of the sermon drew near, and the story that the pastor described made her remember the time when she was a toddler lost in a department store. While her parents were looking for her, a nice sales clerk smiled at her. I’m sorry you’re lost, but we’ll find your family.

The tiny little girl was all choked up when she told the clerk, I don’t want to talk about it.

The pastor added his last point. The disciples were perplexed as they faced the storm on the Sea of Galilee. They were right in the middle of God’s will. The Lord made them get into the boat to face the storm. They toiled and fretted until the fourth night. During that time of wind, rain, and darkness, the disciples could not see Jesus, but He could see them. Through this lesson, God was accomplishing something bigger than what they faced in the moment. After so long on the treacherous sea, they looked out and saw a figure in the distance that looked like a ghost that came closer and closer toward them. The figure was almost at a point of passing them by, but it didn’t. It was Jesus on the water. Jesus was saying to them, ‘It is I Am, it’s not over yet, and I’m not going to let you sink.’

Claire pondered at the fact that God’s greatest workmanship was not the beautiful beaches of Clearwater or the amazing mountaintops and translucent blue lakes of Bavaria that she’d read about, but His greatest work of art is His own children, and He is coming back for them. The pastor continued with a quote by Max Lucado:

No price is too high for a parent to pay to redeem his child. No energy is too great. No effort too demanding. A parent will go to any length to find his or her own. So will God. He closed with one last thought. There are times when God calls us to put on our best clothes, cast off any spirit of heaviness, and move out of our present situation and into deliverance.

In closing, New Song echoed in the background. There’s no wall you won’t tear down, no mountain you won’t climb up, coming after me. Pastor David continued singing, I don’t deserve it, I didn’t earn it, still you give yourself away, oh, the overwhelming, never-ending, reckless love of God. Oh, it chases me down, fights ’til I’m found, leaves the ninety-nine.

Entering a new season, Claire was excited about returning to her homeland and quitting her job at the agency. After a vacation to her hometown in Georgia, she had to briefly go back to Florida and finish out her last week at work.

That week, at an undisclosed location in Florida, the Investigations Unit felt as if someone had hit the fast-forward button. It was near the end of the week when the phone call came in, a tip that sent fifty-five detectives racing out the door at the same time with their fake eye piercings, thug hats, and tattoos showing above their bulletproof vests. They were ready for anybody, anytime, at anyplace. The helicopter was up and off the launching pad in no time, ready to spot the soon-to-be-caught drug smuggler traveling south on I-75 carrying over a million dollars of crack cocaine in his possession. He had come all the way from Texas.

Within the same hour, the drug lord was finally in custody, and he stared at the detective who gave him a warm greeting while escorting him toward his new place of residence: prison. Welcome to Florida! An FBI agent told him.

Though there was rarely a dull moment at the agency for Claire, it was nothing like what she’d seen on television. And, though she loved watching this kind of excitement, she was ready for the next chapter in her life.

As the phone continued to obnoxiously ring off the hook, Claire groaned and gazed out the window to imagine escaping back to Georgia where she belonged. As the week flew by, the switchboard blinked and buzzed and more tape transcriptions piled up.

The Mexican girl in the adjacent cubicle was constantly shoving her work on to Claire’s desk. Claire looked up to notice two thug-looking men who had eye piercings, beards, and tattoos who quickly tipped their gangster hats before heading out with a six-foot-long piece of pure steel that broke down doors during raids. It was a typical Friday night, and the raid they would bust up was just one in hundreds of the drug parties that would be happening on that summer evening in Florida.

Have fun! Claire told them. One of the thug-looking detectives glanced back over his shoulder with a grin and threw her a mock salute.

Claire snickered at the thought of holding a thirty-pound hammer that would just crush the switchboard and end the chaos. While expecting a call from her lieutenant in the Organized Crime Unit, Claire noticed a familiar voice. It was the phone call that changed both of their lives. Her dad called to ask if she remembered Aunt Tina’s house. Why would her dad call just to ask if she remembered Aunt Tina’s house at two in the afternoon? She wondered. His words echoed in her mind the rest of the day. It’s for sale, so just look at it when you come back in town next weekend. So, their next trip home included a trip to Aunt Tina’s house. It was far enough away from her hometown. Although Claire’s childhood memories of growing up in a small community were golden, she’d become intolerant of gossipy behaviors and backstabbing, fake people who didn’t get along with the rest of the town. Claire wanted her own pretty house and her own fields away from the pomp and circumstance, dog and pony show events thrown by the other town aristocrats who interestingly seemed to always know more about her life than she did and didn’t mind saying so.

Located in Indian Springs, Georgia, Aunt Tina’s house was nestled beside a creek on plenty of beautiful land. Countless hours and days were spent landscaping the grounds. This classy house was built by Claire’s late grandfather. There were murals painted on the walls, a large built-in fish aquarium, a spacious sunroom, and big seashells scattered about. The land was full of azalea bushed shade trees, and beautiful plants. What an oasis it was. Everything about it was likable, but Mario and Claire couldn’t afford such an expensive home. The adorable house suited them just fine. As they moved in, they felt delighted that the Lord was working everything out for them.

A few weeks later, Claire’s dad replied, It’s yours now, and you don’t owe us anything for it. Claire was speechless. You see that change sitting on the table there? Take it in your hand, and put it in mine. She grabbed thirty-five cents off the coffee table and gave it to her dad.

Now. You have paid us for your house. It’s yours, he said. It was a wonderful blessing.

As newlyweds, the two could kiss that life of poverty goodbye now.

Because of God’s hand, Claire paid thirty-five cents for her new home built by her late grandfather, Bear. Her God of such fine detail was overflowing in abundance.

Claire hadn’t paid much attention to the many conversations she’d had with her brother figure JohnBoy about the last days and the Rapture. She’d heard it all before from the many classes at her church, but she figured none of it would happen anytime soon. But in the recent years, events and prophecies were lining up. It was now obvious to her that something was about to change. And, it wasn’t just a move to Georgia.

That night, Claire awoke in a sweat, her heart racing. In the prophetic dream, her vacation to the mountains was interrupted. After dining at a river café, Claire walked outside with a friend. The porch wound around the café and stopped at a hiking path that led into a forest. The sun was going down, and the place was dim.

The dream continued, and a huge flare went up into the sky mimicking the sound of big fireworks. Soaring high above them, the flare gave off its powerful light.

In the dream, Claire ran hard and fast toward the forest nearby. The second flare went up, and people continued to run out of the city and into the forest and rural areas. Then, there was a great silence that came over the land.

Then, the Lord revealed to her the significance of the flares: the enemies of Christians were scoping out the country and the landscape to see where their weaknesses were. Like a roaring lion that roamed about seeking whom he may devour, the enemy was searching for new angles to strike.

Claire rubbed her face and rolled over as the dream continued to a different setting, a church setting. Some deacons and specially trained members of the congregation were assigned security duty. About five of them were secretly armed and ready to defend their pastor and fellow Christians from foreign intruders who could pose any type of threat. Churches were now setting up mandatory membership classes to ensure that when members came in, they were coming in for the right reasons and not with any hidden agendas to harm the church in any way, whether for security reasons or for moral reasons due to more and more select groups demanding their rights.

More people were moving out of big cities at a rapid rate. Every religion group was being protected except for the Christians, just as God had predicted. America was changing fast.

Chapter 2

Paris

Emily and Stacy had some free time to shop before their flight back to Atlanta. The two had worked for the same airline together for years and had always dreamed of the opportunity to shop in Paris. Now was their chance.

As airline stewardesses, Emily and Stacy had a few more hours left before they were due back to work. Stacy’s husband gave her a credit card, so she was determined to take advantage of the best shopping places in the world. An elegant Rolex watch glistened with diamonds on each side complete with a pink pearl background on the inside. Emily, get a load of this. They both looked down as Stacy pointed toward the magnificent piece.

Would you like to try it on, mademoiselle? asked Cherie, the bombshell brunette behind the counter in her impeccable French accent.

"Yes, oui, oui, oui! Stacy responded, eager to put her French into practice. She tilted her tiny wrist from side to side admiring this coveted piece of jewelry. Ah, lovely," she commented.

Cherie raised a brow. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a watch as amazing as this one. With a wedding ring like that, it makes you look dazzling, Emily added. Emily had never owned anything as ridiculously expensive as this watch. It was twice as much as her ring had cost. But, it was the perfect Rolex. And, it was from Paris, she reasoned.

I’ll take it, Stacy said with a grin. She basked in the moment.

Oh, yes, ma’am, excellent choice. It’s a popular one, Cherie said.

Emily admired a similar one on her wrist. She had always wanted her and Tim to have matching watches, so she bought one for her and one for her husband. Cherie took care of them both. Emily then turned to a purple silk Gucci blouse in the window, added it to her stack, along with purple leather pants, hot pink boots, and a feathery skirt that she found flattering. After they bought a few outfits, they were almost ready to complete their checkout when Stacy spotted the chocolate.

The next store was just as tempting. Stacy swished her blonde hair around and did a double take at the knockout gorgeous red dress in Nordstrom. Wow. She had seen it in the last edition of Vogue. She tried it on, putting a hand on her hip. Perfect. It would look pretty stunning with the watch she just bought added to her nice little ensemble.

After the two stopped at Banana Republic, they were ready for some fine dining. They took their pick among the five-star restaurants of Paris. Emily had grown up on the outskirts of Dublin. She knew all about how to work the land as well as the many rules of etiquette that her mom wasn’t about to let her forget.

She knew not to get in any hurry to leave during her dining experience, or else she would get some pretty annoying looks. The French took their sweet time while dining. Emily loved and appreciated that French dining came in five slow stages. Paris had its own pace and rules in etiquette, and Emily felt right at home. The fact that people got up late and went to bed late worked out perfectly for her.

The restaurant they chose was one of the most exquisite in the area. The waiter brought out two neat little blobs of ice cream for them, palate cleansers.

All of a sudden Emily and Stacy flinched as they heard a crash that sounded like a train had just hit the glass right next to them. The two-hundred-pound busboy was obviously a new worker and didn’t notice that the glass entrance was really a door and not an open area. He crashed into it hard and fast. Luckily, the glass didn’t even crack. The busboy smoothly and subtly played it off by simply turning around and walking off to avoid any further embarrassment.

Emily looked up to notice someone’s flaming ice cream being brought out. The scene reminded her of Mr. Bean’s Holiday when he gets grossed out by raw oysters and conveniently slips them into the lady’s purse who is sitting next to him.

After Emily blessed the food, Stacy was curious. Where do you go to church now?

I still consider Dublin my home, and I try to go as much as I can when I fly back there, but I have found a church closer to Canton. I finally gave my heart to the Lord a few months ago. And you? Emily asked.

I don’t really go to church now, but Marco does, Stacy stated.

The two began to reminisce of old times when they were on vacation together.

I keep thinking about the first cruise that we won, Emily said. You, Tim, Marco, and I were just sitting out there on the front of the ship having some margaritas. We were sitting there watching the beautiful horizon and turquoise waters of the Bahamas, playing Blokus.

We were all coming unglued when our Blokus pieces started flying off the front of the ship because we underestimated the high wind. At that point you and Tim didn’t even care that all the little plastic game pieces fell right off the ship. And then some bird tried to eat one of them. Wonder how that panned out for his digestive system. Then you were so mad and giggly from losing all the pieces that you just threw the whole board off the ship. Take that, pelicans! Emily laughed.

They both laughed hysterically.

So much for that Blokus game.

Then, that pelican flew off with my freaking steak. I was so mad I threw my hollow coconut at it, missed, and hit that cute waiter from Portugal. Stacy put a hand over her chest and let out a sigh as if she were aching from having laughed so much.

Poor guy.

The two giggled.

New Zealand is the best kept secret ever, Emily concluded.

I agree. The landscape was beautiful with cliffs that looked as if someone had sliced them like a pie and moved them out into the ocean, Stacy explained.

Yes, but the reason Marco wanted to go was because he was getting ready to propose to you, Stacy. The guy was crazy about you years before the trip to New Zealand. It took him long enough to tell you, Emily concluded.

I wasn’t expecting it, that’s for sure. And, a fine proposal it was, Stacy said

Emily and Stacy continued to reminisce of college days. They had had their share of fun, but Emily had long said goodbye to her life of partying since she had become a Christian. That factor alone was beginning to add a bit of friction to their relationship because Stacy wasn’t ready to leave that life behind yet.

So you were saying that you no longer go to church and that you don’t think that church is important? Emily asked.

I didn’t say that, I just don’t have time anymore, Stacy said. I’ve had to work a lot on Sundays, so I just never really get around to getting involved with church, Stacy said.

But, we make time for what is important to us, don’t we? Emily asked. I try to go to church whenever I have the opportunity. It’s hard with this kind of career, but I do my best. Tim won’t go to church with me, but I knew that when I married him, and I loved him anyway. I knew he and I wouldn’t agree on that subject, but I didn’t think it would be this difficult because there is so much about walking the walk that I want to share with him. Just to be able to have a conversation about it would be so nice. But, it’s okay. We still manage to get along fine even with that major difference, but it’s hard not being on the same page spiritually.

Emily leaned forward. A lot of preachers are saying the same things about the end times now, Emily said.

Stacy confusingly gazed at Emily. I heard a preacher talking about it, but I don’t understand what the big fuss is about. Stacy was curious.

What they are saying is that in the spring when the Jewish holidays began, and the blood moons also began, the correlation between the two became much more obvious. What I’m saying is … you know the part in Luke that talks about when the moon turns bloodred and the sun turns dark, look up, for your redemption draws near? In other words, no one is predicting the time, but many preachers are saying the same thing, that there are signs we can look for when Jesus will be getting ready to return for His people, the Christians. I mean, let’s face it, Emily, the world can’t keep going like it’s been going. The Bible’s prophecies speak for themselves, and they never lie, Emily added.

There will be signs in the sun, in the moon, and in the stars … Then they will see the Son of Man coming in a cloud with power and great glory. Now when these things begin to happen, look up and lift up your heads, because your redemption draws near. (Luke 21:25, 27–28)

Yeah, but people have been saying that for thousands of years, Stacy said.

Which means we are much closer. Emily said.

Closer to what?

Closer to the Lord coming back for His people. And those ‘birth pains’ mentioned in Revelation are symbolic of what is happening with the earth. When a woman gets ready to have a baby, the closer and closer she gets to giving birth, the more frequent the contractions become. They get closer and closer together, and then down to five minutes apart and then … Well, you know the rest since you’ve had a baby, Emily explained.

Yea, but what does that have to do with anything? Stacy asked.

Emily hesitated.

What are you saying? Stacy asked.

Emily took one last sip of tea as she began her explanation. God is trying to tell us something, and we’re not listening. Every year, earthquakes have increased their numbers. In the recent years we haven’t even been able to keep count of how many of them have happened from month to month.

Stacy shrugged. And?

Then, aftershocks begin, which are sometimes worse. Then, you have the analogy of a mother getting ready to give birth that is evident in Revelation because of the increased numbers of earthquakes around the globe. I actually had a dream about these earthquakes.

You mean before they happened? Stacy asked.

Yes. In the dream, this military helicopter flew over the landscape after the earth shook. It was so weird because after the earth stopped shaking in my dream, it was as if someone hit the rewind button, and it replayed again as if to play an aftershock. Then, that same military helicopter flew over the landscape a second time as if it were coming to help people.

So, you’re saying that all of these signs are pointing to what? Stacy asked.

"For the Rapture to happen. Revelation is about what’s in the future. For Christians, it’s a mentality of expectation because we know that Jesus is coming back so we are excited. But there will be so many Christians who will be distracted