"What this means is that some men and women were born believers - literally - implying, in my mind, that they had a pre-mortal spiritual existence in which they chose to believe beforehand, since had God forced us to believe it would have denied our free agency.

"Others become believers "of men" - by their preaching and witness - and yet others become believers without the aid of teachers or evangelists, but find the truth of the Gospel out for themselves.

"I believe that is also true of marriage," said Stan, who was deep in thought. "It means, in my view, that many enter mortality having a deep sense of who they are to marry, so that when these soul-mates meet, it is instant affinity. The second category of person needs the guidance of others, to remove the scales of darkness from their eyes caused by sin, tradition, willful ignorance, or whatever. They rely on parents, ministers and friends to guide them to marriage companions much as Abraham brought Isaac and Rebekah. And finally, there is the third category of person who through using shere intelligence and common sense are able to calculate for themselves who is best suited for them and who not.

"However, I'm not necessarily convinced that there are three types of person. Probably better to say that there are three modes of searching. If you look at our family you will soon discover that we all found each other in different ways."

Stan's word stimulated and excited an intense discussion as we reviewed the ways in which we had found Stan, and he us. It was obvious, for example, that Andreea had found Stan in this way, and vice versa. But where it had become complicated was when a couple had come by using different methods. When Stan met Jenny, he had known she was a soul-mate from the very beginning, but this has not been Jenny's experience. Instead, she had, for reasons which weren't entirely clear, sought the second and third methods.

I know I had experienced a mixture of the first and third methods, and been temporarily blinded by the second. I knew from the moment I arrived at Raj the first time that Stan was right - it was built into me ... it was just there ... but I let go of it and decided to listen to the voices of others, and my defiled conscience, and my own rationalisations.

"I've noticed that when it comes to selecting companions," Stan continued, "that we often vacillate. We're tossed to and fro by these three different streams. What's interesting about them is that they are not equally inspired. Though all three can bring us to the same conclusion, they employ different methods, and have different failure rates.

"It's like each has a prophetic lens of different focal length. One enables us to see near, the other medium-distance, and the other far. The failure rate increases as you move from the first to the third, primarily because other forces come into play which distort the picture given by the first lens. We get sidetracked by the wrong considerations, putting the wrong emphasis on various factors in the marriage equation. We may have all the right factors there but are simply giving a wrong weighting."

I thought about Jenny. The weighting she was giving was on personality and religion. Jenny's great problem was faith in the truth, because the truth challenged her comfortable way of life - a life which was, in reality, imprisoning her on a single spiritual plane - a plane where she could still be useful to the Lord and find a measure of contentment, but which was in reality denying her the realisation of her full potential.

But how do you tell someone these things without offending them? We are too easily offended by the truth. If we worried about whether we offended people or not in telling them the truth, how would they ever come to the truth?

All of us were, at some point, deeply offended by polygamy. But we confronted it, faced it, acknowledged what God said about it, believed Him, and embraced it. The eventual result: joy.

I often think back on the women who said "no" to Stan even before he got around to propose to them. I wonder why they did it? I know some were offended. Some were offended by the implications of the polygamous way of life - the sacrifices, the new way of being, and so on. Some were offended by his doctrines but never tried to refute him from the Scriptures - they loved their traditions more than the truth. Others were offended because he gave no quarter to carnal nature when they wanted to be sustained in their sinful ways of being. We are all offended.

I don't know if I shall ever be able to understand how Stan can hold all of us so intensely and deeply in his heart, considering how different we all are. Yet I know he can. It is our wonder and our blessing.

And so the two Californians, Shelly and Emma headed for John F. Kennedy Airport, New York,

------------

Isabel suddenly woke up. The train was stationary in Näsby station and she remembered she had to change trains or they would vere eastwards and to Stockholm. Another mad scramble for baggage followed in the rush for the platform.

"Keep an eye on Benoni," she shouted to Stanisław, Jr. who was standing next to his little brother in the pram. Not that Benoni was about to run off but Isabel was always a worrier. He was too busy watching all the passengers embarking and disembarking, his eye picking up the different coloured suitcases. A punk walked past with a blaring soundblaster and Stanisław cringed. He had forgotten how blonde the Swedes were after the months in Poland where mostly everyone has dark hair. Everything seemed so much more casual here.

Isabel was next to them and with a triumphant grin at having beaten the train, which left 30 seconds later, whipped out her train timetable and began calculating. Isabel was an organiser to the bone and knew what to do now that she was on schedule.

With Benoni napping and Stanisław glued to the countryside Isabel began to daydream. She was back in Poland again, remembering the time she and Stan had first met. She had been, oh, so very, very shy in those days. Because Stan was already married to Suszana and polygamy was not known in the Królewiec house, the couple had become no more than the best of friends. She had got to know Stan through Suszana and had liked him a lot but had not found it easy understanding him.

When the topic of polygamy had been raised she had rushed to one of her Jehovah's Witness publications to "check it up" too see what the Watchtower Bible & Tract Society had to say on the matter:

"Since God's original standard for mankind was for the husband to become one flesh, polygamy was not intended, and it is prohibited in the Christian congregation. Overseers and ministerial servants, who are to set the example for the congregation, are to be men having not more than one living wife (1 Tim.3:2,12; Tit.1:5-6). This is in harmony with what true marriage is used to picture, namely the relationship of Jesus Christ and his congregation, the only wife possessed by Jesus (Eph.5:21-33).

"As was the case with divorce, polygamy, whilst not God's original arrangement, was tolerated until the time of the Christian congregation. Polygamy had a start not long after Adam's deflection. The first Bible mention of it is concerning a descendant of Cain, Lamech, of whom it says: '[He] proceeded to take two wives for himself.' (Gen.4:19) Concerning some of the angels, the Bible mentions that before the Flood, 'the sons of the true God ... went taking wives for themselves, namely, all whom they chose.' - Gen.6:2 ...

That had settled the matter for her ... or so she had thought, until Stan had exposed the fallacious reasoning behind it. She smiled gently as she reviewed the ways in which her Watchower indoctrination had been patiently dismantled brick by brick by Stan until they had come to the polygamy issue. Then Suszana had frozen and had agreed with the Watch Tower rationale. Not until later, as Suszana was departing for her adulterous relationship, was the subject of polygamy broached again and Stan showed her the Watchtower's exegetical errors. And yet they had sounded so reasonable ... so convincing, especially the argument about polygamy being tolerated along with the more lax divorce laws. Then Stan had shown from the New Testament polygamy in the Christian congregation and the whole JW argumentation had gone up in smoke.

And not so long after that, God had spoken to her whilst she was driving home in her car:

"You will marry Stan," had come the clear and powerful voice within her.

She had nearly swerved off the road when she heard it and was in deep thought all the way back home. And though she might have been shocked, it all seemed so "natural" and "right".

"Women are more naturally open to the Ruach haQodesh," Stan has often taught us, "and when Yahweh speaks to them, they tend to exercise greater faith, because they are better tuned to His heart. Men tend to rationalise with their brains which, whilst necessary in so many things, often inhibit the Spirit, which is female. There is a gender identity between the sisters and the Ruach, and not until the man has learned to listen like a woman can he understand how She works."

It had been Suszana who had suggested that Isabel marry Stan but hadn't realised that for Suszana the proposal was being made as a means of self-justification for the polyamorous evil she intended to pursue. Perhaps that is what had given Isabel so many difficulties in the early days ... knowing that she wasn't being invited to be a sister-wife but a 'replacement' of sorts. And that had hurt. It hurt because Suszana had been her best friend, and someone she had looked up to as being almost perfect. The shattering of that illusion had created much distrust in her and inevitably had left an unpleasant mark on her subsequent marriage to Stan. Perhaps that was why she had gravitated towards the monogamy-only mindframe to "get away" from that unpleasant memory, even though in her mind she knew polygamy was right. It had made her feel cheap - a kind of justification for Suszana's adultery. And it had taken a long, long time for her to be reconciled to that part of her history. Perhaps there was a tinge of resentment because all the other wives had started on a foundation where they had been accepted as genuine sister-wives and weren't being used as Isabel felt she had been by Suszana. Perhaps ... perhaps ... perhaps there were many reasons why things had gone wrong so many times.

------------

The busy, well-ordered life of Jenny had been suddenly disturbed. The little spiritual capsule no longer seemed safe any more.

At first she had found a rôle for herself as a kind of pro-polygamy women's security officer and positioned hereself as a look-out for men prowlers on the Internet and prided herself in exposing not a few fakes. And she made it known publically who she was and what she intended to do, and was proud of what she believed her new "calling" was. But things went disasterously wrong when she mistakenly accused a man for something he hadn't done. Too proud to repent, she had lost credibility amongst almost everyone in a particular polygamy internet community who had previously respected her, save for her mentor who, because of her previous record, gave her the benefit of the doubt. And then, suddenly and unexpectedly, her mentor decided to pull out of the polygamy ministry and devote his energies to family and ordinary evangelism. Little did she realise that her mentor had himself fallen into serious sin by throwing out one of his wives without any biblical grounds for doing so. A little stung and brusied, her involvement with the polygamy ministry declined thereafter.

But her retreat into the Lutheran world was short-lived. Fundamentalist Muslim terrorists struck around the world suicide bombing Western targets, and nobody living in cities felt particularly safe anymore. A terrorist training camp was discovered not one hundred miles from where she lived. Then they struck with biological and chemical weapons and what had once seemed a secure urban world suddenly became one of rampant fear of the unknown. In a day, when the terrorists first struck, the world was changed forever.

And though this was an eventuality Stan and other patriarchs of our Order had prepared for and had expected, it had caught those not operating in the same vision by surprise and left them feeling vulnerable and afraid. The old assumptions about the world were crumpled up and discarded, and suddenly life and its purpose needed redefining.

Sitting alone in her apartment with Fritz on her lap, Jenny once again wondered. Her life now consisted entirely of gruelling work and the occasional contact with a few friends and intermittant surfing on the net. What was she doing? What was it all for? And was she really in God's will?

Every now and then she would sneak onto Stan's website to read what he had been writing. And Stan, knowing that she would, had carefully "dropped" in articles specifically aimed at her. Somehow she sensed this - Stan was not one to give up on anything easily, if not at all. She found his subtle persistence both irritating and admirable, challenging as it did her own will to be self-sufficient as well as reminding her that as a woman her true place was under a husband's protective covering and not as an urban nun.

She had felt comfortable, more or less, after refusing Stan's proposal of marriage, but as the days wore on, and following her humiliation and débâcle on the Internet, the worsening international scene, and the sense that about all was left for her was her secular work, which was now consuming most of her life, she had begun to wonder if maybe ... just maybe, she had made a wrong turning somewhere along the line. Her pride was strong, but heaven would not leave her to self-destruct in stages.

"Noooooooo!" she cried in undisguised grief as she read, hands trembling, the letter which had just come through the post. "It can't be! It can't be!"

Jenny let the letter drop to the floor and buried her head in her hands. She had been made redundant, one of several thousand layoffs by the company for which she worked, to streamline the workforce and make it more cost-effective. And just as Stan had prophesied to her. Though she had survived the two rounds of cuts, it had been at a terrible cost, and she found herself doing the work of two instead of one. That had increasingly meant longer hours, overtime, and working at weekends. And though she was a hard worker who loved work and gave her all to it, now her life was becoming totally consumed by her job to the virtual exclusion of all else. The nobility of her work ethic was being repaid by slavery to the world.

There were, of course, wealthy relatives she could ask for economic help from, but pride effectively forbade that. She could go to the labour exchange and register as unemployed, but that ruffled her aristocratic dignity. Bills were not fully settled and there was a mortgage to be paid for. And following the terrorist attacks, insurance rates everywhere - and especially in the cities - had hit the roof. She felt trapped and defenceless.

"Oh God, what do I do - what do I do?" she quietly wailed within.

She gently displaced Fritz and retired to her bedroom. Lying on her bed in the dark, she looked up at the ceiling and at the beam of light resting there from the partially-opened door into the living room. She prayed.

"Lord, what do I do now?" she asked, again and again, knowing that she had never heard the Lord speak directly to her before, but somehow expecting that now He should, in view of the calamity that now faced her. But there was nothing.

She reached for the bed lamp, pulled the cord, and blinked momentarily in the light. As she opened her Bible and began to thumb through it, looking for comfort and direction, her eyes lighted upon the following verse:

She gulped. There were many voices now saying that a third world war would begin following the terrorist outrages, or that world anarchy would result, dictatorship, and many other nightmarish scenarios.

Jenny did not sleep easily that night. She dreamed of nuclear war and a world of darkness, of her childhood, of many things all jumbled together. She dreamed she was in her local Lutheran Church but it was empty and asked herself, "Where is everyone?" And then from behind the purple altar cloth she saw a sight that nearly made her heart stop - the crucifix fell down and there stood the Grim Reaper, scythe in one hand, and an hour glass in the other. And he opened his mouth, and said:

Jenny awoke suddenly and bolted upright in her bead, her forehead covered in cold sweat.

"It's too much, it's too much, I can't cope with this! Lord, deliver me from this nightmare!"

She picked up her Bible to read it again but was too weary and sank back into sleep again with the bed light still on.

She dreamed she was in a roasting hot desert, roaming alone amongst the sand dunes. As she approached each sand dune in expectation of finding water on the other side, all she found each time was her boss thrusting more work into her hand. As each sand dune was traversed, the pile of paper grew bigger and bigger until the load became unbearable. Finally, in desperation, she threw the papers down onto the sand, crying: "No more! I won't do anymore!"

A wind suddenly blew up and in seconds she found herself in the midst of a blinding sandstorm. There was nothing to do but to sit down and bury her head between her legs, eyes closed, until the storm passed. She felt the sand clogging her ears for there was nothing to cover or protect her head with. She prayed fervently: "Lord, deliver me from this storm!"

And then an echoing voice, whether within or from the desert she could not tell, came booming forth, saying: "You have no covering!"

Jenny tried to look up to discern the origin of the voice, but the wind and the sand caused her to retreat between her legs again. "What covering, Lord?!" she cried.

"Your crown is your covering," boomed the voice again.

"My crown??" she cried, confused.

At once the storm subsided and there was an eerie silence. Standing to shake the dust out of her clothing which seemed to have penetrated every nook and cranny, she looked around, half expecting to see Christ standing in front of her. But again there were only the endless sand dunes.

And as she read the passage and came to the phrase, "He who overcomes ..." she noticed that the word "He" was written in gold. Staring at the golden letters in fascination, she seemed drawn into the little Bible itself and found herself standing in a white room, far from the blistering heat of the desert. The walls, ceiling and floor were all plain white, as though she were standing in a perfect cube with no doors, windows or decorations of any kind.

There was a sudden humming sound behind her, and as she turned to locate its source, saw a large stylus appear in the air and begin engraving as upon gold in enormous letters:

"An excellent wife is the crown of her husband"

Asking their way, the two women eventually managed to haul their luggage onto a taxi and make their way to Järfälla railway station.

"There's the train!" shouted Shelly, as they clambered into a carriage and slumped into their seats laughing. Though still tired, the spirit of adventure had gripped them - an adventure they fully intended to enjoy to the full. It didn't take them long to realise that the more placid European Swedes were not accustomed to the noisy American joi de vivre as sometimes amused, and sometimes less amused, faces turned to meet the noise pouring out of their corner.

"Shhhh!" said Emma. "We mustn't be so noisy!" and giggled even more.

"Hey, don't forget we have to change trains at some place called Tillberga!" reminded Shelly, and once again the two scurried to the door, and almost fell off the train in their excitement.

"Where next?" Emma asked Shelly who has assumed a kind of mother-hen rôle?

"Borlänge!" she paused. "Where the heck is that?"

Emma burst out laughing and even though she couldn't pronounce Swedish herself nevertheless thought that Shelly was game for a dig in the ribs.

A blonde, blue-eyed Swede sat opposite them and was not amused, clearly annoyed at the disturbance the Americans were making. Emma, ever the social one, smiled at her but was ignored.

"Not very friendly here," she thought to herself, and her buoyancy subsided briefly. Shelly paid no attention, taking the opportunity to bite into a sandwich. But for some reason she felt drawn to this unsociable woman, and being the curious type, tried to see what she was reading. While the woman's eyes were hidden by the book, she nosily leaned forward, read the title, and missed a heart-beat:

"PATRIARCHAL DESTINY"

by Stanisław Królewiec.

An invisible force seemed to send Shelly flying back into her seat causing her to let out a small cry. Emma looked startled and the woman lowered her book to see what the commotion was about. The shocked look on Shelly's face made the Swede jolt as well - everyone eyed each other, wondering what on earth was going on. Shelly was breathing heavily.

"You OK, honey?" asked a concerned Emma.

"No I'm not," gasped Shelly, never one to mince words, "definitely not!"

There was an embarrassed silence for about 5 seconds.

"Excuse me," Shelly asked the Swede without thinking, "but may I ask where you got that book?"

The Swede was by now startled, and beginning to wonder if she was being accused of theft. A meowing sound came from a covered basket next to her. She lifted the lid to comfort the animal:

"It's alright, Fritz, it's alright," she said soothingly.

Emma's head began to spin. Hadn't she heard that name mentioned somewhere before? She looked anxiously at Shelly who seemed to know more than she did.

"I've got that book!" blurted Shelly, not knowing quite what else to say to the atonished woman.

"You have?" replied Jenny, astonished, as Shelly reached up to the overhead luggage store and pulled down her suitcase, dropped it on the table between them, flung open the lid and after a brief rummage, pulled out a book triumphantly.

"There!" she cried, and while the Swede's mind raced in a momentary state of confusion, Shelly's was in full steam down the railroad of declaration.

"Hi, my name's Shelly, from San Diego, California, and I'm on my way to visit the author - oh, and this is Emma," she said pointing at them, "also from California, on the same mission."

The woman's jaw dropped at the amazing coincidence of it all.

"Well, hello, my name is Jenny, and I am on my way to the author too," she said as she raised herself slightly off her seat to offer her hand. They were all looking at each other, trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together as they shook hands and introduced themselves to one another. None dared venture any questions about marriage though everyone was thinking it.

"Do you know Stan well?" asked Shelly cautiously.

"Yes, quite well," came the even more cautious reply from Jenny.

Shelly picked up her copy of Patriarchal Destiny and opened it randomly without looking at it.

"So do you believe everything in this book?" asked Shelly quizzically, holding it up like a teacher in a classroom, still not sure how far to go. And the truth of the matter was that neither of them wanted to ask the "golden" question for fear that the other wasn't supposed to know about polygamy and so compromise Stan's family.

"I cannot fault it," said Jenny deciding that maybe she should be the one to initiate, though carefully eyeing the two Americans to make sure she wasn't confiding in the wrong kind of people.

Shelly couldn't wait any longer, and sensing that perhaps Jenny was travelling to Kadesh-Naphtali for the same reason as herself, blurted out as diplomatically as her Californian sensibility would allow:

"We've travelled from America to join Stan's family!"

And Jenny, almost relieved that the cat was out of the bag, suddenly lit up like a small child being offered candy, and exlaimed:

"So am I, so am I ...!" and after a five second hesitation, her countenance dropped, and she added, " ... if he'll still have me."

The conversation up to Borlänge was charged with excitement as the three women shared their stories with one another. This had been a gathering together they had not expected but which had had the positive effect of bonding them in a spiritual sorority even before they reached their destination. The Americans listened in wonderment as Jenny related the circumstances in which she had met Stan and also of the strange dreams she and Märta had had, and how she had refused Stan's proposal of marriage.

"You said no?!" exlaimed Emma. "You must have been crazy!"

Jenny blushed.

"Yes, I was. But at least I am here now. And I don't believe this meeting was an accident."

"Me neither," said Shelly. "The Lord is good and I'm so glad we met this way - it's just another confirmation to me that what we're all doing is right."

They all nodded at one another, smiled, and then giggled.

"You wouldn't have any Christian tracts in Swedish would you by any chance, Jenny?" asked Shelly, a twinkle in her eye.

Jenny was surprised.

"Well, as a matter of fact ....." she began, but was interrupted by the conductor making an annoucement on the intercom:

"Borlänge, Borlänge ... första station, Borlänge!"

"We have to change here, sisters," said Jenny, tucking the single tract she was about to give to Shelly back into her bag.

The girls reached for their suitcases and bags and once again were scrambling off the train and onto the platform of the little provincial station at Borlänge.

"Ooooh, it's cold," complained Shelly, clapping her hands together and shocked by the huge cloud of condensed vapour coming out her mouth as she opened it. "Brrrrr, can't we go inside somewhere?", she asked, as Jenny cast her eyes about for a place of warmth.

------------

Isabel, Stanisław and Benoni sat huddled in the corner of the waiting room at Borlänge Station. They had been there two hours already and still had a long wait for the local train that would take them to Leksand and the end of the line. Isabel still had no idea what she would do when she got there as she didn't even have money to make a 'phone call to the herrgård, even assuming that her pride would allow her to take that step. But it was cold and dark, and a snow storm was building up. The road to Kadesh-Naphtali, if she dared take it, wasn't like the road between Frankfurt and Rzepin where it had been both light, flat and tolerably warm by comparison. This was a mountainous country road in winter where the traffic would be next to zero after the nearby villages of Västanvik and Siljansnäs. Thereafter it would be a 20 km wilderness walk in pitch black with no street lights at all in winter weather.

"Mother, I'm hungry," said Stanisław, Jr., who had eaten the last of the biscuits two or three hours before. Isabel began to cry a little but did her best to conceal it from the boys.

"We'll soon be home and then you can eat as much as you want, Stanisław," but wondered if they would really get back at all. They still had to get to Leksand. She would focus on that and let the Lord take care of the rest.

The Americans and Jenny came into the waiting room. Isabel wiped her eyes and looked up, thinking it strange that tourists should be in this part of the world in the middle of nowhere and in the heart of winter, but thought nothing more about it. Though the little room was warm, it was still freezing cold compared to San Diego. Tiredness had caught up with them and no-one much wanted to say anything. Some locals came in and positioned themselves between so they couldn't see one another. The light was dim and cast a dreary atmosphere in the place in spite of the brighter lights outside.

Shelly shivvered in her new winter coat while Jenny set off in search of a warm drink.

"Everything's closed," she said dolefully. "Sorry," and sat down next to Emma.

An hour passed in almost total silence save for the chatter of the locals which was, to the Americans, another world. It was all very alien, and in odd moments after her mind drifted a while, she found herself back in reality, and suddenly felt out of place and alone. But the presence of her two new sister-wives-to-be quickly comforted and assured her that she was, in truth, home.

When the announcement for the local train to Djurås, Gagnet and Leksand was made, everyone was half asleep making the embarkation more like a sleep walk. They made for the train and collaped into their seats. Isabel and the two children were at the opposite end of the little one-carriage electric train and did not see Jenny's party.

The travellers settled again into a half-sleep for the remaining 30 km journey. It was an old, clattery train, and rather hot and stuffy, and hardly the romantic picture Shelly and Emma had previously conjured up in their minds for the last part of their journey. Somehow they had imagined that all trains would be modern and comfortable in this part Europe. Shelly was aching all over and could only think of flinging herself down onto a warm and soft bed when she came to journey's end. She peered out into the inky blackness occasionally broken by the dim light of a farm but mostly all she could see was the snow racing past the train in streaks of white. At least the train was warm.

Nobody spoke on the train, not even the locals, save the conductor who walked up and down the aisle each time people boarded and asked to see their tickets.

Jenny nudged Emma.

"We'll be in Leksand in two minutes," she said, and Emma told Shelly.

------------

The snowstorm had subsided but it had been sufficiently vigorous to leave about six inches of snow on the platform at Leksand. Isabel disembarked, saw that the storm was over and that there was a full moon, and made the decision to press on on foot. She was already out of the station and heading towards Yttermo at the southern end of Österviken lake. Stanisław protested, wanting only to sleep, as it was by now almost midnight, but his mother's mind was made up. Benoni was fast sleep in his pram.

------------

Stan and Kryztina arrived two minutes after Isabel left Leksand. When three women appeared on the platform instead of the expected two, Stan was bewildered.

"Jenny ... ?" he said incredulously, but before he could collect himself, she had fallen into his arms and was hugging him tightly.

"Emma! ... Shelly!" cried Kryztina and welcomed the two new sister-wives-to-be. Though she had been as surprised as Stan to see Jenny, she could see that Stan was momentarily occupied and didn't want the others to feel left out.

"Hi Kryztina!" shouted Shelly, as the three women all embraced and kissed each other, and then made their way to Stan.

"Welcome, my loves," said Stan to the two Americans, and hugged and kissed each of them in turn.

"Come on, let's get into the minibus," said Stan shivvering. "It's perishing out here!"

With their luggage safely aboard, the happy crowd sallied forth into the mountains. There was no sign of Isabel and the boys, nor were they looking for them, for none of them even knew they were in Sweden. The minibus was filled with excited chatter, giggling, and laughing as the Americans and Jenny retold their stories. Stan was quiet, concentrating on the driving on the slippery road, but aglow and happy within.

------------

Isabel had gotten no farther than crossing the Österdalälven, the river linking Österviken with Borlänge to the south-east, when a couple in a van on their way to Mångberg - a mere 5 km from Kadesh-biyqah - had stopped and asked her if she wanted a lift. She praised God, not expecting to get further than Siljansnäs, and gratefully accepted. Though the couple asked her if she wanted to be taken anywhere special, she had told them that Mångberg would be just fine, as she did not have to go much further. But they were persistant and expected to drive her to the doorstep of her home. They didn't ask her what she was doing walking all the way from Leksand - the locals in this part of Sweden are not nosey or inquisitive in the least.

Isabel sat quiety and just praised Yahweh within her heart for this blessing, taking it as yet one more confirmation that He wanted her home, and this time for good. She remembered how Hagar had run away from home and how the angel had told her to return and subject herself to her mistress. For Isabel this was a final settling of the ghosts of the past - a time to really put her roots down for good and to stop running. She wasn't afraid now as she had been before but was actually looking forward to seeing the surprise on her husband's face. She imagined him being overjoyed and crying to see her back again - yes, she hoped it would be a real drama. She wanted to feel really special this time.

She glanced down at her two boys ... they were fast asleep. What a long and exhausting journey this had been for them. Never, she vowed, would she rip them away from their father and the rest of the family again.

While she daydreamed, Stan and the three new wives, about whom she knew absolutely nothing, had arrived at the herrgård and were being serenaded by the others who had stayed up late. Everyone was as overjoyed about Jenny's arrival as Stan and Kryztina had been when they bumped into her at Leksand railway station. Who would have thought that their joy would be made yet fuller still?

No one saw or heard the little white van deposit Isabel, Stanisław and Benoni in the crisp white snow outside the front door of the herrgård. The outside lights had been turned off in anticipation of the night's sleep so that the only illumination was from the the full moon above. None of the lights were on in the front of the house either for everyone was at the back in the main living room. For all she knew the household was fast asleep.

Her heart pounded as she climbed the stairs to the huge oak front door. She hesitated to press the bell, half terrified all of a sudden, and half overwhelmed by the joy of anticipated reunion. But, suddenly feeling the cold, she overcame her hesitation then pressed the doorbell.

Not a stir in the house. Half a minute, a minute - nothing. She rang the bell again. Still nothing. By now becoming a little worried, she pressed and held the bell as though needing to wake the dead, for her whole heart was by now ready to explode with all the wound up tension and anticipation of days of longing for home.

The light in the hallway went on and the door suddenly swung open revealing her husband. Stan froze, too shocked to speak, his eyes and mouth wide open in momentary disbelief. She struggled to smile but couldn't, bursting out in tears from the emotional relief of seeing the object of her goal. She impulsively pulled the pram and Stanisław, Jr. in out of the freezing cold and closed the door.

Stan was still standing in shock. Stanisław, Jr, broke the impasse and rushed up to his father's arms, crying: "Oh Pappa, Pappa!" Isabel was still crying, but now for the joy of seeing father and son reunited. Her own carefully planned drama seemed to have fallen by the wayside and she was just moving in the reality of the moment.

Stan, still holding his son, looked up at his wife. A fresh smile broke over his face. She saw the moisture in his eyes - it was all she was looking for ... to know that she was really wanted and loved. Inhibitions were banished and Stanisław's mother joined him in the fervent embrace.

Was this how prisoners of the Soviet Gulag felt after they had been released from concentration camps, never having seen their family for years? The seconds marched into minutes as the three just stood silently in the warmth of love. Behind them the rest of the family began appearing, wondering who had been ringing on the door so late at night. And when they saw, they shouted, and cried, and embraced, and kissed.

Isabel and the two boys were home for ever and the family was one.

The End