Only the rearing equine sentinel of stone was left in front of the house gazing after the disappearing automobile, the fierce expression of defiance in his eyes eerily reminiscent of the dictator in Berlin, who had now challenged every nation on earth to see if any possessed the courage to stop him.

57 Prayer for Direction

57

Prayer for Direction

The hour was early.

Dawn was abroad throughout the land, though the sun had not yet risen over the horizon.

Baron Heinrich von Dortmann, landowning farmer, German aristocrat, husband, father, and man of God, lay in his bed, eyes staring wide at the ceiling.

It was probably five o’clock, perhaps fifteen or twenty minutes after the hour. He had not looked at his watch.

His men would shortly be with the cows, and the field workers would be up for breakfast within the hour. But there were matters of weightier concern on the mind and heart of Baron von Dortmann.

He had been awakened out of a sound sleep, almost with the sense of hearing an audible voice in the room. He knew his Father had spoken to the inner ear of his spirit, bidding him rise and seek him.

Careful not to disturb his sleeping wife, he rose, dressed in silence, and, taking his Bible, which still lay open on his nightstand where he had been reading it before falling asleep, sought the chilly, damp, early-morning air.

He did not immediately go to the garden, but sought a longer route, across the stream, through the fields, and deep into the wood, before, after a long walk of quiet reflection and prayer, his steps eventually took him back toward the house.

He loved this time of the morning and always felt more keenly in tune with himself, his surroundings, and his heavenly Father when he could get out and alone well before the day’s concerns and activities began to press upon him.

Though the summer’s zenith had only passed five or six weeks earlier, there were unmistakable signs to the baron’s senses that autumn was approaching. The pinewood contained a slightly more earthy fragrance, brought on by increasing dampness in the ground at night. The warm, summery aroma of dried pine needles and sap, warmed by the sun, had given way to the smells of dew, of moisture, of dirt, and of humus, decay, and dead leaves. He loved the smells of summer, he loved these new smells, each one intrinsic to the ongoing cycle of ever-renewing, ever-changing, ever-growing life.