Cold Weather Is The Proof...God Is Unhappy With Us. {hehe}

Protege 8...Is My L-I-V-E Talk Every Night At 8p..cst. It Excites Me..!

Thought You Would Like To Read The First Two Pages Of The Book...Vashti Does Not Live Here Anymore..!

   The Sun Beat Down Unmercifully.

   The peasants occasionally raised their heads to stare around the field. "Is this what life is really about? How long will I have to work here to keep buying food for my family?" Their thoughts were like inner roars and waves of the ocean, splashing against the boulders of their consciousness.

   Sometimes the sunlight even blinded them so they could hardly see others across the field. Silent Pain Is Loudest When It Is Experienced Alone. The pain of little hope screamed, "What do we do? There are taxes to pay. The house only has two pieces of furniture. Our grandfathers were poor. Our fathers were poor. Surely this is not the way life was intended to be."

   Scanning the horizon of the field, the bearded royalty could easily see a young lady working alone. Unusually tall. Long glowing hair. The aura of her presence could be felt all the way to the dusty road.

Success Is In Your Difference

   The young woman was different. She knew it, but didn't really know what her difference was.

  She had huge eyes, distrusting, but inquisitive. The passion for life had just unleashed inside her bosom. "This is not my dream life. It is my training ground," she said within herself. She'd never discussed this with anyone. But Divine fragrance kept her inner life in ecstasy.

   "Look...look...!" came an unusually loud whisper from behind her. The sound of that whisper spread across the field until the entire field of peasants stood boldly tall. They saw swirls of dust coming down the road. They heard the sound of chariot wheels.

   No, it could not be! This was country work. This was a vineyard of peasants. Rich people didn't travel down this road.

   Motionless, they stood and stared as a chariot of the king himself rolled down that dusty road. Two other chariots in his entourage followed behind. The whispers intensified, "Where are they going? Are they headed to a banquet of kings in another country? Has the king decided to buy the land?" It all seemed far-fetched. No one they knew was a conversationalist of the king.

Change Can Come Suddenly

   "What is this? The chariot is stopping," the workers whispered.

   A tall man in kingly robes steps out. He is not the king, but a representative. A liaison. A messenger. A full 5 minutes passes.

   They see a face peering out the window of the chariot. Someone inside is looking at someone out in the field.

   Two men walk across the field to the young lady. They ask, "What is your name, ma'am?"

   "Vashti," she replies with a slight smile. This is not the first time men have looked at her. This is not the first time men have desired her. This is not the first time men have desired her. Her body trembles under the scrutiny. But, she is bold, opinionated and a master listener.

   "May we meet your mother and father?"

   "Of course," she hastily replies.

   "We will meet you there," says the haughty man, brushing the dust of the field off his beautiful robes. "These peasants," he thought. "I wish the king had not asked us to come out here. I love the palace floor. This is not my world. It is the world of poor people."

A Startling Visit

   The chariot pulls up to the house. The representative gets out of the second chariot and walks to the door. Greeting the couple, he notices several children playing in the yard. The children stop playing and start staring at the chariots of the king.

   "The king would like to personally greet you both," the representative states. The king alights from the chariot and steps into the small hut. He has to bend because the roof is so low. His kingly gaze pierced the environment in swift assessment. A little sofa. A bed in the room. Small cots on the floor. It truly was a peasants home.

   "I am in search of someone to train to work in my palace," were the crisp words of the king. Your daughter has been recommended to me as a possible trainee. I would like for you to consent for her to come and live in my palace, if you agree."

   The couple is in shock. Nothing good has ever happened to them. Their entire life was discomfort, toil, sweat and much pain. Raising children was not an easy task. Especially in the burning hot fields of The Middle East.

Real Kings Rule With Compassion

   Hesitantly, the couple replied, "But we really love our daughter. She is special to us. How often would we see her""

   "As often as you please," the king said with compassion. "In fact I have a home close to my palace where all of you will live. She will visit you as regularly as you desire. In fact there will be occasions when I will bring you to the palace to spend time visiting with her."

   Their minds raced, "Can this be true? Is it possible the king would want to be around us? We have never been inside a palace. We've never experienced the splendor of the world-class environment."

   "May I be truthful with you?" the king asked slowly. "My actual interest in your daughter is not to become my servant, but to train to be my queen, my confidant and help rule my kingdom with me.

Dreams Do Come True

   And so it happened.

   The young lady became Queen Vashti...the chosen focus of the king. His confidant. His lover. His conversationalist. His personal dancer.

   It was much more than her navel and muscular thighs that excited the king. She is a pleaser. She is the kind of woman kings dream of. She is a woman who will admire his accomplishments and be keenly sensitive to his strangest desires. A confidant that, according to the law of The Medes and Persians, no other man would see. A strange law written by equally strange men.