Spirit and the Soul

By J.A. Ortiz

Spirit and the Soul 

Stories of hope in the middle of life's events, situations, problems, etc... The world will confront us to detour us from our place and faith in God. The tests of life seem endless, but, in the end, God is in control of our destiny. He will never lead us wrong. The battle is all for your soul. There is

• Language: English
• Publisher: Aspire Publishing Hub, LLC
• Release date: Feb 13, 2024
• ISBN: 9781960758859

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J.A. ORTIZ

Spirit and the Soul

Copyright © 2024 by J.A. Ortiz

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

ISBN

978-1-960758-84-2 (Paperback)

978-1-960758-85-9 (eBook)

978-1-962611-63-3 (Hardcover)

Table of Contents

Acknowledgments

Chance Encounter

Angels in the Jungle

Hell Bound and a Miracle

A Baker’s Choice

Dream Girl

A Pearl Too Proud

Ryan’s Prison

Judge Not My Child

Orphaned Artist

When Pain’s Collide

Fragile Minds

No Greater Love

No Greater Choice

No Greater Bond

Spirit and the Soul

Short stories that speak of the fruit of the Spirit: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. Against such things there is no law.

Galatians 5:22-23

Acknowledgments

There are a few people that I would love to thank for making this book a reality. But not before thanking the God who granted me the gift to put my thoughts and imagination on paper. If it were not for the saving Grace of Jesus, my Lord and Savior, I would not be here today. In 2006, Christ came to my rescue with absolutely no skill to write one piece of paper, let alone an entire book, on top of finding myself in the darkest moments of my life. He also placed a calling in my heart to begin writing. After much pushback and even more enticement on His part and His willingness and patience toward me, I submitted to what He chose as my calling. And for that, I thank and praise my Lord Jesus Christ.

To my nearly lifetime friend, schoolmate, spiritual mother, advisor, editor, and so much more. Olga Rosario has always been a God-sent, and I love her wholeheartedly. Thank you to one of the best friends a man could ask for. You have traveled this journey with me from the beginning of my walk with Christ. You have always been brutely and soundly honest with me, I could never be grateful enough.

To my father and mother, God rest her soul, and who, before passing away, saw the beginning of my dream as an author come true, I thank you for all your prayers and sound spiritual advice and for believing in me. I love you both for being Godly parents and loving me even when I was less than and still am less than perfect.

To my Titi Aida and Tio Julio, the best auntie and uncle in the world. Titi, I have admired your love for books and reading since I was a young boy. You challenged me to read my first book. Though it would be another thirty years before I would pick up another book, that memory helped create a love for reading that I still hold dear today. I love you both as my second parents and dear friends.

To my siblings, Annie, Albert, Mildred, Willie RIP, Elizabeth, Lydia, Priscilla, and Danny, I thank God for all the antics, bantering, humor, and, at times, arguments (we can’t be perfect), but most of all the love you have shown me and one another. We may not always see eye to eye on some things, but we’ve managed to stay united when life has dealt us a bad hand and tragedy has targeted us. I want to thank each one for your encouragement and believing in me. I love you and wouldn’t trade you for any other family.

To my God-sent literary Agent Ron Taylor, who, with one unexpected phone call, convinced me that he could make this journey possible and in no time gained my trust and my friendship, I thank you for reaching out, trusting, and believing in me. You are one of the many blessings in my life today, and I’m most grateful for your friendship. Thanks, brother.

To Frank Costello, Project Manager at Aspire Publishing Hub LLC, thanks for always being there and promptly answering questions and emails. And to your entire team for their exceptional work and professional craftsmanship. Thanks

To my many dear friends, who, thank God, are more than I can name here: Bobby and Orfa Roman, Charlynn and Daniel, Chandler Henry, Ruth Mateo, Ana Altagracia, Sara Bruno, and many more who believed and encouraged me, I thank you from the bottom of my heart.

To Annette Guadalupe, the brightest and, most definitely, the smartest woman I have ever met and had the pleasure to call lover and friend. You always said I could accomplish anything I set my mind and heart to do; thank you for coming into my life and leaving it better before you were called to the heavenly realm. Rest in heavenly peace. You left this earth a better place in many hearts. I love you, and you will forever be in my heart.

To my niece Cathy and my nephew Sean, you both have been an inspiration for what young wisdom and love should be. I always hold your sound advice, belief, and love for me dear and near to my heart. Your labor for the Kingdom of God is my desire for all young people. Your wisdom surpasses your age.

Last but not least, are the most important people in my life and my heart, my five children and ten grandchildren whom God has blessed me with. Some are too young to know what I am doing with my life, and I hope and pray that when you are old enough, I will make you proud. To my sons Tony and Eric, thanks for your friendship and willingness to put up with my craziness and, at times, my absences. To my daughters, my deuces who were all delivered to me on the twenty-second day of a month, Shannon, Tiffany, and my baby of all five, Lindsay, a father could not ask for a better trio, I love you all; so many words could not come close to an explanation. I thank God he gave me each one of you. Thank you for believing in me all these years, even when nothing seems to be moving in any direction. I love you with all my being.

J.A. Ortiz

Chance Encounter

Donny drove his vintage ‘72 Ford pickup slowly down the single lane road. Dressed in his camouflage and orange vest, with his rifle lock and loaded, ready at a moment’s notice; when he spots his first deer to complete his hunt. A quarter of a mile ahead, Donny sees what he’s been looking for and it’s a big one. Donny speeds up until he reaches the area where the deer crossed the road. Donny came to a quick stop. Throwing the gear into park, grabbed his rifle, and headed into the woods. He looked around to familiarize himself with the surroundings and get a better lay of the land. Donny knelt on one knee to steady his breathing. Moving his head in a slow motion to capture everything within sight, then he spotted his prey. Donny begun moving in a stealth and silent pace trying not to disturb the earth beneath his boots. Keeping his eyes strictly on his deer. He was unaware of a man approaching from the opposite side of the same deer. Donny was a great hunter and excellent marksmen. His uncle, James, taught him to hunt from the tender age of nine. Now at twenty three and after four years in the military, he could hit a tin can from 300 yards. Donny was less than a 100 yards and knew he could make this shot with his eyes closed. He raised his rifle, put his sight on the deer, held his breath, and when Donny was sure of his target, fired. He had been trained in the military to be a sniper. Donny was taught to keep both eyes open when looking down the sight of his weapon and he adopted the same method when he hunted. Donny saw through his free eye the deer was spooked at the same instance he felt the recoil of his weapon. He heard the sound of something as it hit the ground. The breaking of twigs and the ruffling of leaves. Donny moved forward while keeping his weapon at the ready. Swinging it from left to right and peering through the sight, S.W.A.T style. He approached the area where the deer was standing. At first glance all seemed to be in place, as it should be but then Donny’s heart sunk. Down to his knees he, swallowed hard, as he, stared at the man on the ground with a bullet hole in his chest. The man was about 25 yards from where the deer stood eating something off the ground as he fired his weapon. Donny could see the bow and arrow laying five feet from the man, who clearly was trying to get close enough to the deer; when the man spooked it. He, ran and kneeled next to the man and quickly ripped open the strangers coat and shirt to assess his wound. Donny did two tours in Iraq and had seen his share of bullet riddled bodies. Looking at the man the only words he could pronounce were, I’m sorry man, I’m really sorry; I didn’t see you behind the deer. The man just nodded his head like he understood and was in agreement with him. The nearest hospital was three hours from their location and Donny knew this man would not make it. He pulled out his cell phone knowing that the chance of a signal was slim to none, and none it was. Carrying a first aid kit for Donny was a must and he never went hunting without one. Donny ran back to his truck after telling the man what he was going to do. He rushed back with a tent and the first aid kit. Donny knew first hand he had to stop the bleeding. Silently, he thanked God the bullet went straight through his body and from the slow flow of blood, it appears it did not hit any mayor arteries, or organs. Snow had been forecast for later in the day and by the look of the clouds, it was inevitable. Cauterizing the wound was going to be painful, so Donny decided to wait until he could make the man more comfortable. As he set up the tent, he noticed the man was in and out of consciousnesses. He would make eye contact now and then. Donny would just look at him to assure him that he had no plans of abandoning him. After the tent was up, Donny gently moved the man inside the tent. Next he gathered wood for a fire. He would need the fire to cook, for warmth, and to heat a blade to close the wound. After the fire was started, Donny stepped into the tent and knelt beside the man. Speaking softly he said, what I’m about to do is going to be painful. I don’t have anything for pain, or topical anesthetic to numb the area. The man spoke in a weak voice for the first time and said, it’s okay, I’m a veteran and I’ve been down this path; I think I can trust you. Donny removed the man’s coat, cut his flannel shirt, and long John tee. He took two of his bullets, removed the lead and poured out the gun powder. He opened the first aid kit, grabbed the bottle of peroxide, a needle, thread, gauze, and tape. Donny rolled up a rag, as tight as possible, and placed it in the man’s mouth. Similar to how a horse holds a bit in his mouth. He told the wounded man to bite down hard. Donny asked the man to brace himself, to get mentally ready, and to blink his eyes to gave him the go ahead. Donny cleaned the wounds with peroxide, poured the gun powder in the exit wound. He touched the wound with the cherry hot tip of his six inch hunting knife. After Donny cauterized the wound, he cleaned it again and stitched up the exit wound. Donny rolled the man over to his back and repeated the procedure on the man’s chest. By the time he was done bandaging the wounds, the man was passed out and broke into a cold sweat. After cleaning up the wounds, Donny just sat staring at the man and praying he would live through the night. Donny knew the first twenty four hours would make the difference between living and dying. He thought of leaving and going for help but was afraid two hours to the closes town, meant leaving this man for more than four hours. As a soldier, that is unacceptable. The night was long and cold but Donny was thankful they were spared the snow. Other than a few flakes, they were blessed with a dry night. The man woke up around noon and asked for a drink; Donny took that as a good sign. He could see the color on the man’s cheeks returning to a normal shade. The following day the man was sitting up. He woke up in the early morning hours. The sun was barely making its way over the trees and darkness had not given way to the light. Donny looked at the man and smiling asked, how are you feeling this morning? The man looked at him with a smile and replied, happy to be alive, thanks to you. He shook his head and said, I think you’re forgetting, I’m the one who almost killed you. The man returned the gesture by shaking his own head and looking right into Donny’s eyes said, it was an accident, son. I spooked the deer and took her bullet; she owes me. I’m hungry, so why don’t you finish what we started? Two hours later, Donny returned with two rabbits. He looked at the man who quickly put a smile on his face and said to him, I didn’t see any deer and definitely not ours but these two were out playing, so I made them game. After the two men shared a meal of rabbit stew and a hot cup of black coffee, they sat and talked for a while. After a few long minutes of silence the man looked at Donny and said, I never got your name son. Donny extended his hand and replied, Mom and uncle James call me Donny ever since I was young but these days I go by Lance Corporal Donald Grams, Jr. I’m known around the barracks as Bulls-eye. The man instantly became teary eyed and as he continued holding Donny’s hand, replied with half a grin, it’s an honor and my greatest pleasure to meet you, I’m retired Sergeant First Class Donald Grams, Sr. and you may call me, Target.

I have observed something else under the sun. The fastest runner doesn’t always win the race, and the strongest warrior doesn’t always win the battle. The wise sometimes go hungry, and the skillful are not necessarily wealthy. And those who are educated don’t always lead successful lives. It is all decided by chance, by being in the right place at the right time.

Ecclesiastes 9:11 NLT

Angels in the Jungle

Six days and not a thing to eat; if not for the occasional drops of water Drake collected with a cup like shape of broken glass. He knew for sure the water was keeping him hydrated, or he would be dead. The bars on the window, the steel door with the lock, and chain has become his prison. Sleeping on the damp and cold packed dirt was taking a toll on his bones. Drake also knew he was at least fifteen pounds lighter since arriving in the jungle. The Lord is supposed to keep missionaries safe, so why was Drake and his four friends suffering in this place?

For the past three days the rain had not stopped. It was pouring. For Drake it was like manna from heaven. As they waited to be rescued, he tried to encourage his companions by reciting verses from the bible. As they talked about their current situation, they had a better understanding of how the apostles of Jesus felt and suffered for their belief. Nights were long and the darkness was eerie. Absolutely no light and no contact from their captors. It has been two days since their captors stopped to look in on them and they counted the delay a blessing. For the first four days, one by one, the men were beaten and treated like spies. The men were questioned about people and events the group knew nothing about, or even heard of. The group was weak and every man had severe injuries on different parts of their bodies. Ted had worst injuries. He is a doctor. He put is career on hold to help people in this remote part of the world. All these men knew the risk involved before coming to the Philippines. They heard all the stories and still they chose to serve. Ted, had been beaten across his thighs with a bamboo stick. Drake feared Ted was developing blood clots. He was nursing his own injuries that were quickly becoming infected. Whip lashes that ripped open the skin off his back. The other men were in no better shape, as they had similar injuries. Ted nursed his injuries, he prayed for the group including the one that was not captured, Joel.

It took Joel five days traveling under the cover of darkness before he emerged back into civilization. An additional three days making arrangements to get home. He finally boarded a flight back to the states. Joel served in the Rangers Special forces for twelve years before retiring with two purple hearts and a few metals of valor. He was highly respected and was still missed by the men he served; one phone call, and any one of them would give their life to come to his aide. Joel was counting on that loyalty today before he knocked on the door. Colonel Sanchez has been his best friend and commanding officer during Joel’s last eight years of active duty. Until this day they have always stayed in touch. Sanchez opened the door, looked at the man in front of him and with a big smile said, hey there Rigs looks like you have trouble. It’s written all over your face. Joel shook his former commander’s hand, padded him on the shoulder, and stepped inside. During his time of service, Rigs drove anything that moved on wheels, or tracks. Plus Joel’s, expertise with explosives, earned him the code name, Rigs. After Rigs laid out his situation, Sanchez picked up his dedicated phone line and dialed. The voice on the other end answered. Hello, Boss Man, what’s up? Sanchez replied, Seeker round up the old team, meet at the location at 0600 sharp, wheels up at 0630, and I will brief in the clouds. BTW, we also go black and Rigs is point on this one. The voice was loud enough for Joel to hear his old friend. Rigs? That old dog still barking and leaving his mark? Boss Man, stared at Rigs then replied, that old dog can still bite and hard. I wouldn’t want him jumping over my fence. The two disconnected and Sanchez asked Joel to follow him to the basement. When they were in the cellar, Sanchez entered a code on a keypad and a steel door sprang open. Joel looked inside. He turned to his friend and said, looks like you have enough here to start your own little army. Sanchez smiled, padding Joel on the back hard then replied, you brought it.

Three weeks have gone by, an estimation made by Drake. He lost count by day ten. Drained and in pain, his mind was starting to fail him, and the group was starting to lose hope.

Seeker set up his tripod and a 50-caliber sniper rifle on a small ridge about a half mile from the rebel’s camp. He whispered on his radio, I have eyes on our bogies and nothing moves unless I say so. Rigs contacts Boss Man, Sliver, and Tank and tells them to start up at the west. Follow in a single line to the east side of the camp. Bull, Stalker, and Eagle, named for flying gliders on his furloughs, took off jogging and headed west. Back at the camp Drake and his colleagues were huddled in the corner where Sliver told them all to be in the event, they were captured around 0200. Dressed in black and his face painted to camouflage. Sliver had the task of recon, with the ability to move around undetected and known for crawling through tight spaces; he was 5’7 and 165 pounds. He had an unusual size for a special force member. Sliver had proven himself with skills most men only wish to possess; martial arts combined with the agility of a mountain lion. He climbs and scales walls without ropes, or gadgets. He always tells his comrades, Parkour, has nothing on me, I invented the sport. He found his marks and dropped off MREs, power bars, and some meds while delivering the news that the Calvary was lurking, and at 0200 all hell would break loose.

At the camp Drake and company prayed for the last two hours since eating their last reserve of past meals, which would give them some energy to move when the time came to leave. Armed with his M-4A1 assault rifle, Rigs approached the bunkers where his friends were being held. He applied a small piece of C4 to locks and hinges, set the timers for one minute, tapped on the door twice as instructed, and took cover a few yards away. The explosions were small, contained, and the door barely moved until Rigs walked up and kicked it in.