In 2005 a young lady by the name of Terri Schiavo was starved slowly to death while her mother and father cried and pleaded daily for help – with the list of protestors rising powerlessly into all areas of federal government.
My son was one of those protestors. In March, without telling anyone, he went to Florida. His objective – to rescue Terri Schiavo. In July of that same year, he turned 21 in a cold and lonely Clearwater jail cell, where, among other things he was made to sit in a chair for 25 hours straight, and like Terri, went without food himself for 7 days. In his bitterness and in his desperation, he prayed that God would send a storm to where he was.
To most this was simply a legal matter. To me the ‘People of the State of Florida vs. Michael Mitchell’ became a ‘Declaration of War’.
If Governor Bush himself had tried to bring Terri so much as a cup of cold water to wet her lips he would have had to bring the National Guard with him. That, for all practical purposes, would have meant ‘civil war’.
I said, in a letter to the Public Defender, “There is a Wonderful Counselor who has never lost a case, and in the end He will vindicate my son.”
There is a thing about hurricanes, that when they are particularly devastating, their names are retired and they are given new names. As I left Florida, I heard a radio announcer say that one chosen in 2005 was ‘Michael’ and it would rise from the Atlantic in 2012. I waited to see if it would be that retribution; but like my son, it went away peacefully.
The reason for the writing of this book hasn’t changed. Let God arise and His enemies be scattered. Hallelujah!
