And the Shofar Blew Read Online Free PDF

a deer, a female deer,” Julie Andrews sang from the screen.
    “You know this movie by heart, Abby,” Samuel said. “How many times have you seen it?”
    “About as many times as you’ve fallen asleep to Monday Night Football.
    ” She picked up the remote and turned the television volume down, then put it back on her side table. He sat in his recliner, tipped it back, and waited. He knew it wouldn’t be long.
    “So . . . ?”
    “Give me the remote and I’ll tell you.”
    “You know I’ll get it back again when you fall asleep.” She gave up the remote.
    “He’s twenty-eight, happily married, and has a three-year-old son.”
    “That’s all you learned about him in thirty minutes?”
    “Master’s degree. Zealous.”
    “That’s wonderful.” She waited while he considered. “ Isn’t it?”
    “Depends.” Fire from on high could raise a church from the ashes. Misplaced zeal could burn it down.
    “You could mentor him.”
    He looked at her over the rim of his glasses.
    “Well, who else would you suggest? Otis? Hollis?”
    Samuel pushed his recliner back. “We might see if we can find someone older, more experienced.”
    “You aren’t that fainthearted, Samuel.”
    “I’m not exactly a mover and shaker anymore, my dear.”
    “You know what they say: ‘Youth and skill are no match for old age and treachery.’ ”
    “A bowl of Rocky Road would taste good right about now.”
    She sighed and got up. Samuel caught her hand as she came near his chair. “Give me a kiss, old woman.”
    “You don’t deserve a kiss.”
    He smiled up at her. “But you’ll give me one anyway.”
    She leaned down and planted a kiss on his mouth. “You’re an old codger.” Her eyes twinkled.
    “You can have the remote when you get back.”
    He began praying over Paul Hudson the moment Abby left the room. He prayed while he ate the ice cream. He prayed while his wife watched The Sound of Music. When they went to bed, he prayed with her, then lay awake praying long after she went to sleep. He prayed the next day while mowing the lawn and oiling the garage-door hinges and springs. He was still praying while he added motor oil to his DeSoto, rubbed a few bugs off the car’s grille, and went out to trim the hedge.
    Abby came out to the garage with a FedEx envelope. Paul Hudson’s resume. No moss would grow on this kid. Samuel opened the packet, read the resume, took it inside, and put it on the table. “See what you think.” He headed for the door.
    “What about lunch?”
    He took a banana from the bowl on the nook table and went back outside to talk some more with the Lord. He didn’t come in until she called that lunch was ready. The resume was on the table. “Well?”
    Abby let out a soft whistle.
    “Precisely.”
    He called Dean Whittier that afternoon. “He had to work to prove himself when he came here.”
    Samuel frowned. “Why would he have to do that?”
    “His father is David Hudson. It would be hard for any man to live up to that kind of reputation.”
    Before Samuel had an opportunity to ask who David Hudson was, the dean charged on with the various projects Paul had started and finished while in college. The dean’s secretary spoke in the background. “I’m sorry, Samuel, but I have another call. Let me just say this: Paul Hudson has the potential of becoming a great pastor, maybe even greater than his father. You’d better grab him while you can.”
    Samuel went looking for his wife. “Ever heard of David Hudson?”
    “He’s pastor of one of those megachurches down south. His sermons are televised. Pat Sawyer loves him.” Her eyes lit up. “Oh my goodness! You don’t mean to tell me Paul Hudson is related to him, do you?”
    “You could say that. He’s David Hudson’s son.”
    “Oh, this is more than we ever dreamed . . . ”
    “Don’t start doing cartwheels yet, Abby.” He headed for the door.
    “Where are you going now, Samuel?”
    “Out for a walk.” He needed time alone to