by Caryl McAdoo
Sarai’s head spun. Dancing donkeys? Trained monkeys? Milcah would love them, but….
She’d almost been able to forget having to share the festivities.
“No, Father has spent so much already, and…” She shut the image out. Who wanted a troupe of Hamites at the wedding anyway? Bad enough Nahor’s child bride infringed on her special week. “Please don’t mention it to anyone.”
“Fine, it’s your wedding celebration.”
And Milcah’s, though she refused to give that voice.
Nodding, Sarai took another sip, waiting. She did brew a nice pot. As the silence lingered, she blew on the liquid. Abram would tell her. Nina said a man would tell a woman anything if she asked when… No. He was her lord and stood between her and God. She’d not use the marriage bed as a weapon against him.
“Well, Mother?”
“Well what, dear?”
“Tell me now why you married my father.”
Terah’s wife shrugged. “You don’t forget anything, do you, my lovely?”
“No, and you promised.”
“I know, indeed I did. Judith and I were best friends until my twelfth year.”
“What happened then?”
Her mother’s lips thinned. “I’m trying to explain. Now let me.”
“Yes, of course, forgive me for interrupting.”
She nodded once, but didn’t smile. “What happened is that, as a foolish girl, I fell in love with your father, even knowing Judith, as the oldest, would marry him. That morning of my realization, she and I tended the weanling lambs, brushing and feeding them tiny handfuls of grain…mostly trying to keep them from crying for their mothers.
“Anyway, one of the older ewes kept trying to get back to her baby, and Terah was being so easy and sweet with her. After the midday meal, he relented and let only her lamb out.”
“Sounds like him. Father has always been tenderhearted.”
“Yes, that’s true. For some reason though, his kindness angered Judith. She got livid with him for prolonging the inevitable, and told him so. I couldn’t believe she would treat him in such a manner. From that day on, I let him know in every way possible that I loved him. A touch or look or….”
“Or what?”
“I even kissed him once, but that almost got out of hand.”
“How did it happen?”
“In my eighteenth year. On my way out of the goat fold, I noticed him leading a freshening nanny to the barn. I ran back and crawled in the goat’s door. He’d seen me and stood there grinning, waiting for me. After making sure no one else was in the barn, I kissed him and told him that my heart belonged to him and always would.”
“Did he kiss you back?”
“At first, then pushed me away and walked out. He and Judith had been married a year then. Fourteen years later, he convinced my sister that a second wife would solve their problems.”
“Problems? What was wrong between them?”
“Her barrenness. Terah wanted an heir. And I wanted only your father.”
“Is that the reason? Why you were banished?”
She nodded.
“How –”
“Sarai! There you are.” Milcah ran from the woman quarters into the courtyard. “Nina says the water is almost hot enough, and we best begin our cleansing rituals.”
Smiling at her niece, soon to become her sister-in-law, she faced the girl, holding a finger up. “Please let her know I’ll be right there.”
Her mother patted her hand. “Go, baby. We’ll have plenty of time to talk.”
“Promise?”
“Yes, I promise.”
Scented goat milk soaps, oils that cost more than a hireling earned in a year, preceded layers upon layers of silky smooth cloth—some polished, then many strands of pearls and glass beads were hung on her neck. Gold and silver crowned her head and encircled her wrists, fingers, and toes. The women fussed with her hair, pinning curls and flowers to adorn them.
Father had far exceeded expectations.
And Milcah, though being an orphan, got the same treatment. In the way of Terah, he wouldn’t think of her having one bangle less—not when being married on the same day—but Sarai knew and understood his reasons and loved him all the more for it. The slave’s daughter couldn’t be held accountable for any of the situation.
But Father cherished Sarai, and she was the only reason he’d spared no expense. Surely, there’d never been a bride more pampered or adorned for her beloved.
As the last sliver of the old sunk into the west, the new, her wedding day, arrived. Music rode the breeze all the way into the women’s quarters, heralding her groom’s approach and the start of the ceremonies to all in its hearing.
The moment she’d dreamed of for most of her twenty years.
The only way it would have been more perfect….
Well…she loved Milcah and could share the festivities.
That night, Sarai stepped into marital bliss that lasted exactly twenty days.
Chapter Four
Abram held his wife tight as he stroked her hair. “Sweet Sarai, we just got married.”
She nodded, sniffed twice, then resumed her weeping. For longer than he wanted, he stayed with her. The tears finally abated, and she snuggled in even tighter.
“Adam’s God will bless us, my love. Do not be impatient. Noah was five hundred years old before he fathered the first set of triplets. In Abba’s time, Sarai, in His time.”
She jerked away and glared, her red eyes flashing. “But I don’t want to wait. I want a baby, and you need an heir.”
He resisted laughing. That would only bring on more tears. “Yes, we both want the same thing, but…”
“But what?”
He didn’t know how to answer what really troubled his soul, so he voiced the known. “Father was seventy, mother only two years younger when I was born. Your mother remained barren even longer.”
Her lips curled into a snarl, and she pushed him away. “Leave me! Your words bring no comfort.”
Standing, he backed away. He needed to convince his father, but each time he broached the subject of the clan leaving Ur, Nahor blocked every argument. The family’s riches were rooted there he claimed, and their father agreed, like only gold and silver mattered.
After the third month of her lunar cycle befell his wife, Abram learned to mark the days so he could keep a good distance just prior to its onset. Her baby longings proved inconsolable—any time spent trying, she’d reward by sending him away unproductive and the current object of her disparagements.
Five years flowed by like the big river racing to the sea with little change. He thanked God that Sarai found some solace in that Milcah had not birthed any babies either. Not that it mattered. Abram, as the eldest son, would inherit the birthright.
But if the reports were true, Father Shem strode the earth strong and vibrant as the day he walked out of Noah’s ark.
Perhaps one day, Abram would visit the Valley of the Eight, see for himself the big boat’s bones, and ask Shem what it had been like. Perhaps if he could convince the elder to reconcile with Terah….
He’d love living in Noah’s palace, especially once he rose to be the patriarch.
Over the next five years, bits and pieces of the Truth became known, revealed in dreams and visions. Snippets and glimpses. Then the night after his and his brother’s fifty-fifth birth celebration feast, he experienced it all together—the whole picture unfolded. He woke knowing exactly what he must do.
No matter what it took, he would walk in obedience to what the Lord showed him.
Even if it meant splitting the clan in two.
That morning, he found Terah on the ground tending his herbs in the courtyard adjoining his private study. Abram ignored the shrine his brother had built to the moon. How idiotic that the patriarch allowed it. Especially in his favored garden. The older man pivoted on his knees. The redness in his eyes and tear-stained cheeks shocked Abram.
“Father
, are you ill?”
He shook his head. “Horrible night. I dreamed of your brother, and how he died. Tore…my heart…anew.”
Abram hated the pain in father’s words. “We need to leave Ur. Evil saturates the ground here and spoils the air we breathe.”
“Yes.” Terah extended his hand, and Abram helped him to his feet. “You’re right, Son. Where will we go?”
“North. Adam’s God will lead us.”
As expected, his brother argued against taking leave of the wicked city. But this time, Nahor contended with the patriarch, and as in all family matters, Terah’s word was law.
Sarai welcomed the news. Not having to listen to Milcah bragging about her babies! That alone would make the move enjoyable, but not living among the pagans, agreeable beyond description. She’d grown to hate Ur.
With each moon cycle or new baby her rival produced, the city had become more appalling.
Her mother was older than her current forty-five years at her birth, but Sarai didn’t want to wait another month much less any more years. Abram needed an heir.
Otherwise, Milcah and Nahor spoiled rotten boy Huz would inherit the birthright, and that could not happen. Their other three boys were even worse.
No. She would give Abram an heir. Had to. Then she’d see to it that her son followed Adam’s God.
The caravan’s lead camel took its first step, and it softened the hardness of her heart to see Nahor and Milcah waving from her old home’s gate.
Beyond fair, her father had gifted her brother and his wife with more than his share, counting the sprawling home, but Abram had forbid her from saying a word about any of that.
As far as he was concerned, leaving Ur with his father and Lot was reward enough for him. The Lord would bless their family. Of that, he was convinced.
In truth, the servants seemed to spend more of their day tearing down then setting back up the tents each morning and evening than the caravan traveled. But each day they got more proficient and reduced their time.
Sitting the fourth camel by herself bored her beyond tears, but at least she didn’t have to walk…or worse, see to the herds. She’d hate to chase after those wayward goats—no easy task. Bless the bondsmen’s hearts, on foot and bearing their heavy burdens.
It amazed her that her husband and father only rode a few miles each day, preferring to walk ahead and lead the caravan.
At short shadow of the one hundred and thirty-third day, Terah stopped the caravan short of what appeared to be a small village, no more than a tenth the size of Ur. Was he planning on finally staying in one place a few days?
Hopefully it would be so. What a blessing that would be. Travel’s monotony and her boredom had long since quenched any sense of fun or adventure.
That night during the main meal, her father signaled for quiet then waited until he got it.
All eyes trained on him.
He grinned. “Our sojourn is over. I asked the Lord for a sign, and today, He revealed Himself. This city that He has led us to is called Haran. On the morrow, my son and I will locate our new home.”
Sarai looked to Abram. His face remained expressionless, but a dash of sadness darkened his eyes. She looked back to her father who beamed, like he had found God’s Garden of Eden. Or even something better.
Though Abram desired to continue on, he submitted and put his talents toward establishing his father’s house. Soon the inhabitants of Haran recognized the blessings the clan brought and elevated his father to elder status. Its men sought out his wisdom and judgements. It pleased Abram each time he spotted Terah sitting at the city’s gate with the other hoary heads.
Each year, the family’s wealth increased. The herds and flocks doubled and tripled, growing fat. And none cast their young. Even the wild beasts seemed to be at peace with Abram and his herdsman. He oft considered the stories of how the animals were before the flood when carnivores didn’t kill to eat, and vegetation sustained them.
Each caravan sent out returned laden with more bartered goods than what they left with to offer. The home-born servants increased by leaps and bounds. Fruitfulness blessed all in Terah’s camp, save Abram and his wife.
Sarai’s barrenness weighed heavily on his heart, but even at sixty-five years, none could compare to his baby sister. His wife shamed the local beauties, and those blessed enough to bask in her radiance were always astonished to learn her age.
After twenty years in Haran, in his seventh-fifth year, Abram prayed first thing of a morning, as his custom, with his face to the ground, and the God of Adam spoke to his heart.
GET THEE OUT OF THY COUNTRY AND FROM THY KINDRED AND FROM THY FATHER'S HOUSE UNTO A LAND THAT I WILL SHEW THEE
I WILL MAKE OF THEE A GREAT NATION AND I WILL BLESS THEE AND MAKE THY NAME GREAT AND THOU SHALT BE A BLESSING
AND I WILL BLESS THEM THAT BLESS THEE AND CURSE HIM THAT CURSETH THEE AND IN THEE SHALL ALL FAMILIES OF THE EARTH BE BLESSED
Straight away, he sought out his father. Only after the old man bid him speak did Abram open his mouth. “The Lord God of Adam just now told me –”
“Yes, I know.” Then his father repeated word for word what Abram had heard in his heart.
“Bless His holy name. He has established His command and His promises out of the mouth of two witnesses.”
“Yes, Son. Prepare to leave. Take a third of everything for yourself, and another third for Lot. He needs to journey with you.”
Even with his and Lot’s share, Abram left his father with more wealth than when he’d arrived in Haran. The leaving proved hard, but Abram never wavered or thought about not obeying the voice of God. That would have been harder, even impossible. The peace he loved and blessings of the Lord came with obedience.
That fact had been established in Abram’s heart long ago.
No one could persuade him otherwise.
Sarai hated leaving her father’s house. Though both her parents remained strong and straight of back, who would care for them in their old age better than she? But her husband said go. So she climbed aboard the grown calf of the very same camel she’d ridden to Haran and kept her concern to herself.
The Lord had said He would bless Abram, and she still had a ways to go to be as old as her mother at her own birth. Though she neared it. And if the custom of women left her at the same age as Mother, she only had a few more years’ worth of moon cycles. Abram had to have an heir. Rumors and reports of Huz and his brothers troubled her soul.
Milcah’s oldest son could not be allowed to inherit the birthright.
South always, her husband kept the caravan heading south. She would have preferred going to the Great Sea to the west that she’d heard so much about, but Abram wouldn’t hear of it. The Lord was urging him south to a land He would show him. If he needed to believe the God of the ancient fathers spoke to him, she wouldn’t fuss or spoil his belief.
While her words had fallen to the ground, at least now and again, a whiff of salt air blew across her brow. But when he camped outside of Damascus, and she wasn’t allowed to visit the city, she refused to hold her tongue. “Husband, you know I love you, but that’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. Why shouldn’t I be allowed?”
“Dearest, it isn’t safe for such a beauty.”
“Oh, like I can’t don a veil and surround myself with maid and men servants. I want to shop the city’s wares and see its life.”
Humph. She missed it, and the caravan left the next morning.
A small blessing though…the camel she rode had an easier stride than his mother. If memory served, the trek from Ur to Haran proved one jolt after another. Her saddle sat softer, too, and the canopy seemed sturdier…the netting more sheer. If only Abram would get to wherever it was!
She hated living in a tent.
Hated not staying in one place.
Hated having only her own handmaidens to talk to and Lot’s redheaded wife, forget the woman’s daughters, those two were only concerned with themselves.
> It wasn’t like she didn’t know every little detail of all their lives twice over.
On the fortieth day from the city of Haran, Abram stopped at the knoll’s top and surveyed the plain before him. The steward he’d traded for in Damascus extended his arm then swept it in a wide arc. “The Plain of Moreh. That city you see afar off is Sichem, or Shechem if you prefer.”
“Canaanite land?”
“Yes. They have many tribes, but are all descended from Ham’s youngest son.”
“Eliezer, tell the herdsman to take the flocks on to water and let them graze and browse. Set the tents up a furlong or so beyond where we stand.”
“Consider it done. Any other desires, sire?”
“Tell Sarai’s handmaiden that I will sup with my wife tonight.”
The most capable servant Abram had ever owned bowed his head slightly then hurried off to accomplish the tasks at hand. He thought to follow and watch, but an urge to separate himself drove him down to the plain, away from where he’d told Eliezer to pitch the tents. A little draw beckoned him.
Almost as soon as his knees hit the ground, the similitude of a man clothed in brilliance suddenly appeared before him. Abram lowered his face to the dust, then stretched out prone before the God of his fathers. “Bless you, Lord. Thank You for bringing me to this place.”
Unto thy seed will I give this land
The glory lingered, and Abram worshiped. Then he stood and gathered stones for an altar. Three full days it took him to finish offering unto the Lord, the God of Abram, the very best of his flocks. With the sacrifices completed, he poured out a drink offering before instructing Eliezer to have the servants strike the tents.
“Three days? Only three days’ rest from traveling? Why must we move on so soon, Husband?”
The desire to see all the land indeed swelled his heart. But he dare not share all the Lord had told him. He wanted to give her hope, but…the God of Abram had not mentioned the when, and he knew his wife well. Still, the Word…unto his seed…delighted him far past joy! The Lord had said it. And so, it would come to pass, and his barren wife could at last rejoice.