by Caryl McAdoo
“Take her. Your God blesses you indeed.”
The fearful idiot only slightly nodded his acknowledgement when the oaf should be at his feet thanking him for sparing his very life—much less returning his wife after their lie, or half-truth. What was it in him? Trust in his God? It had to be.
“You surely must have missed her presence from your tent. And so, because you have allowed her beauty, above the heavens, to grace my palace, I will send gifts back with you and your wife: sheep, and oxen, and menservants, and womenservants. Please accept them from my hand that your God may know I have dealt generously with His prophet.”
His wife hurried to Abraham, who opened his arms then embraced her. The reunion sickened Abimelech. He should have a wife as lovely as Sarah. After all, he was the king. His gods had definitely failed him in that aspect.
Could they stand before this mighty God of Abraham’s?
Best not to distress Him.
“Behold, all of my land lies before you. Dwell here in peace wherever it pleases you.” He faced Sarah. “I’ve given your brother a thousand pieces of silver as well as the gifts for his possession. He is certainly a covering to you of the eyes and unto all those who are with you. To all the others whose lands you sojourn with your husband, tell the whole truth.”
“Thank you for your kindnesses toward my wife while she stayed in your palace, King Abimelech.”
Would his name sound sweet on her tongue? Likely. What a shame to never know it as a daily joy. And the lowly prophet obviously didn’t appreciate her as he himself would.
Lowering his gaze, he turned his hands, covered with boils. “Now I beseech you to pray to your God that I might be healed and the wombs of my wives opened, so that they may bear their children once again.”
So Abraham prayed then and there unto God: and his Creator healed Abimelech, and his wife, and his maidservants, and they bore the king’s sons and daughters, making it clear that it had definitely had been the man’s Lord Who had closed up all the wombs of the palace because of Sarah’s presence there…the man’s sister-wife.
Chapter Thirteen
Early one winter’s morn while her husband’s tribe sojourned in Gerar,a stirring in her bellydrew Sarah from her dream.Her eyes popped open, suddenly wide awake. What was that?She rolled onto her back and scooted to snuggle her side tighter to Abraham, but he’d already risen. Lying perfectly still, she concentrated on her midsection.
Would it happen again?
Could it be what all the women spoke of?
How many moons had passed since the three visitors had come? Just before the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah. Seven? Or was it eight? Her husband said the Lord told him in the same season the next year! Her heartbeat quickened, and she held her breath, feeling as hard as she could, willing the movement to happen once more.
Then she would know.
And it did!
Praise God in the Heavens! Bless His Holy name!
Just as her husband said, God was not a man that He should lie. He spoke the Word and moved a mountain for her. Nothing was too hard for Him! To take…to make…the dead return to life! Overwhelmed to the point of sweet tears, she wept for joy.
With child! She would bear a son, the rightful heir!
Her ecstasy couldn’t be contained.
Jumping out of her bed, she ran to her husband without even grabbing a robe to put on over her sleeping gown. “Abraham! Abraham!”
He must have heard her calling and met her with arms opened wide.
“It’s happened!”
He hugged her to himself, and swung her in circles.
After her feet touched the earth again, she looked into his eyes. They glistened with tears. “Husband, God has given me the desire of my heart! Just as He promised, I am with child. I will bear you a son.”
Praising God, he wept with her.
Then she caught sight of that woman—and her son. He must have been visiting his father. His mother stood farther off with a scowl. But why wouldn’t she be upset? It meant her son was no longer of any value. God had given Sarah a son—even in her old age, and he would be his father’s heir—Abraham’s only true heir. No sour face could not spoil her bliss.
Not that glorious morn, and her husband sealed the moment with a kiss.
The days wore on, and her mid-section grew, but she loved every moment of carrying her baby boy and would never even think of fussing over her discomforts, aches, and the pains associated with her coming blessing. On the other hand, her disdain for the mother of Ishmael grew in a like proportion with her belly.
Abraham should send them away. Instead though, he admonished Sarah to love and be a good mistress then finished, telling her she could deal with the hateful woman however she wanted. Well, she added the hateful part. He didn’t say that. So to please him, she refrained from complaining and avoided Hagar.
In the fullness of days, and at the set time which God had spoken, Sarah’s labor came upon her. The pains grew steadily harder and closer as the day wore on. Surely, she would perish. She commanded that her midwives bring Abraham in to her. Though not the custom, the oldest fetched her husband.
“Dearest one.” She clutched his hand as tight as she could as the next tightening came over her. “I fear I will die. Whatever it takes…save our son. He is God’s promise to you.” She closed her eyes and bore the pain, praying for the time to tell him all on her heart. He rubbed her extended belly until the contraction lessened again.
“I am old, and my strength wanes. The Lord renewed my womb, but not these old bones. Know that I have loved you with my whole heart. For my entire life. You have been the most important on this earth to me. Thank you. For loving me. I hate leaving you, but….”
With tears glistening in his eyes, he shushed her. “I’ll not hear of any such thing. You cannot leave me, for you are my world, Sarah.”
His beloved closed her eyes, a deep furrow across her forehead. Abraham kissed it then ran from the birthing tent into the night, passed the light of the fires, and fell on his face before God. “Spare her, Lord. Shower her in Your tender mercies! And let Your lovingkindness be shown to me. Take not my wife.”
He wept for his love and the torture she endured.
God had told Mother Eve that she would bear her children in sorrow, and so it had been for all the generations, but he’d hoped Sarah would be saved. The Lord had never said she would live through the birth, just promised his heir would be born of her. Surely the Almighty wouldn’t punish him in such a way for his many transgressions.
Sending her to Pharaoh and then King Abimelech. Lying, asking her to….
Abraham only assumed nothing would happen, but then….
He prayed until first light crept into the eastern horizon. Wavering in the nether between sleep and consciousness, someone called his name.
“Abraham!”
Still sprawled on the ground, he opened his eyes then sat and listened. Had it been a dream?
“Master! Come quickly! Your son! He is born.”
His feet flew to his wife’s side, never touching the ground that he was aware of. She smiled, and his heart exulted in the grace and mercy of his God. He held his son and named him Isaac, according to the Word of the Lord.
Soon, Sarah forgot the pain for the Lord had visited him and her in their old age and given the son she’d longed for. His wife and the boy waxed stronger by the day.
After the first full week, he found her with baby Isaac in the ladies’ tent and held out his hands. “Give me my son. It is the eighth day.”
Sarah shook her head. “He’s so small yet. Can’t the butchery wait?”
“No, beloved. I will obey and circumcise my son as the Almighty commanded.”
“But it’s going to hurt him.”
“Not as much as being cut off from his God...and his father.”
The displeasure showed evident on his wife’s face, but she submitted and handed over her child. Abraham did as the Lord had instructed, so
mewhat surprised that the boy barely winced though he’d expected tears and wails...and the blood, too, proved minimal—not at all like when all the men were circumcised.
Seemed to Abraham, baby Isaac grew by great leaps and bounds. Each little new thing the boy learned thrilled his heart. The only sour note? Ishmael’s obvious distain for his half-brother. Abraham easily cured that by keeping the two apart. The bondwoman had long ago been relegated to an outer tent and rarely ventured to his encampment’s center.
So when Abraham desired a visit with the lad, he always went there. After the one time, he didn’t take Isaac with him again.
For the first two and a half years of his son’s life, peace reigned. Abraham loved both his children and hated what that fateful day wrought.
As with most travelers, the caravan that had arrived the night before seeking succor offered their wares for trade on the morrow. Abraham looked over their goods, then after a quick conference with his steward, let Eliezer do the bargaining. He preferred playing rocks and sticks with Isaac in his tent.
Before he or the boy tired of the game, Sarah rushed in and scooped up Isaac. She nuzzled the boy’s neck then sat down. “I just heard awful news.”
“How so?”
“The lead man’s second wife. Did you see her? The one with that awful nose ring. What she does when sniffles come, I’ll never know.”
Why did she use so many words? “What of her?”
“She told me they normally follow the main trade route, but this trip they crossed the Jordan and came south on the east side of the Salt Sea.” Isaac squirmed and reached for his mother’s breast. She gently pushed the boy’s hand away. “I’ll nurse you later, my sweet boy. Be good now and let me talk with your father.”
“Nummies. My nummies.”
“In a minute, I said.” She tapped his nose playfully then tickled his neck. “Last moon the traders spent a night with Lot and his daughters.”
His interest perked up. “And what news did she bring?”
“That your nephew has come down from the mountains where they settled after the Lord destroyed Sodom.”
“Did they find my brother well?”
“Indeed, he and his two sons are doing wonderfully, according to the boys’ mothers.”
“Sons you say? Why didn’t he send word? We would have come to his marriage feast, taken gifts.”
A smirk marred his wife’s beautiful face. “The boys are born of his daughters.”
“No.”
“Yes, and what’s more, they both readily admitted it—to a stranger. And the worst part? They’re claiming the boys are Eber’s rightful heirs, because your son is by a bondwoman. Apparently, those hateful girls haven’t heard about our Isaac here.” She opened her tunic and let the toddler have his nummies, rocking forward then back.
If a truth, awful news. Abraham whistled twice. One of the young men who waited outside his tent hurried to his inner sanctum. “Yes, my lord?”
“Tell Eliezer that we shall feast tonight and to invite our guests to stay over and help us celebrate.”
“Yes, my lord.” The boy rushed out.
His wife’s face tilted. “Celebrate what, my beloved?”
“That this day, we wean Isaac.”
Sarah couldn’t believe his declaration. Wean her baby? Why? Everything in her wanted to scream no, but she held her peace.
Her husband had professed the action, and it would be so.
Nothing she could do or say. She traced the baby’s jawline as he suckled. It would be the last time? That wasn’t fair. Her baby wasn’t that old. Tears threatened to overflow. When he finished, she handed the boy to his father and stood.
“There is much to do if we feast tonight.”
Practically running to her tent, she flopped down on favorite piles of pillows and wept. He could have at least talked to her about such a thing. For too long, her anger ran down her cheeks and wet her dress. Then an image of her nieces’ sour mugs filled her inner eye. The tears stopped.
The little snots. She should go and tell them herself, but they’d find out soon enough that their father’s sons were nothing but usurpers. A smile replaced the wrath. Her son was the rightful heir, and no one could take that away from him. Not Lot’s sons, not Ishmael, no one. The Lord Himself had proclaimed it.
And He was not a man that He could lie.
The flute’s sweetness rode the evening’s breeze accompanied by singing. Circles formed, and dancing commenced. Course after course of delicious foods were served, and the guests clearly enjoyed themselves. They had to see the wealth and generosity of her husband and would surely spread the word far and wide of his greatness.
Oh, how she did love a grand feast! Only her son’s fussiness marred the evening...he consistently reached and whined for her.
Then while her husband bid his guests a farewell, she saw him, the son of his bondwoman, mocking her son in his distress. Her fist balled, and her jaw clamped shut. Her fingers itched to slap his mocking face. Instead, she hurried to the big tent.
Not soon enough for her, Abraham strolled in holding Isaac.
“You have got to cast out this bondwoman and her son, Ishmael! That scornful boy will not be heir with Isaac.”
“Wife, how could I? He’s my son, too.”
“By a slave, Abraham! I tell you, he’s got to go. Didn’t you see him tonight? Mocking our son in his distress? I’ve a mind to…."
Chapter Fourteen
A strong hand shook her shoulder. “Mother, wake up. Father is here.”
Hagar nodded but didn’t open her eyes. “Has the cock crowed?”
“No, but Father says we’ve got to go.”
She sat up. Ishmael knelt beside her sleeping mat holding an oil lamp. “Where?”
“Wherever we want. He’s setting you free.”
Exactly what did that mean? Freedom. She dressed and went outside just as the first crow broke the early morn’s peace. The tribe’s lord and master stood, holding a water jug and bread. “You and the boy must leave.”
“Why?”
He nodded toward her son. “He mocked Isaac last night. Set Sarah off, but it’s for the best. The Lord told me it would be fine. He will make Ishmael a great nation.”
Confirmation of what Abraham’s God had told her…the same thing, but she never dreamed…freedom. To come and go as she pleased? She accepted the provisions. If only her husband had loved her like he loved his sister. To be mother to a great nation...it would have to suffice. Not a bad outcome. Especially since she had no choice but to do as the man wanted.
Gathering only a few things in a blanket, she told Ishmael to grab the corners. He tossed the bundle over his shoulder. Without a look back, she took her son and headed south.
“Where are we going, Mother?”
“There’s a place in the wilderness I know of. We’ll go there for now, then we can decide what we want to do with this…this new…freedom.”
“It will be fine. I will miss my father…and my friends, but…”
“What, Son?”
“Being away from my spoiled brother, the whining golden boy, will be worth it.”
Too few days after leaving Abraham’s encampment, the provisions and water were spent. As hard as Hagar searched, she couldn’t find the well the Lord had shown her so many years before. After a full day without water or bread, she put Ishmael in the shade of a shrub. “Rest here, my boy.”
Curling into a ball, he closed his eyes and said nothing.
Unable to help herself, she looked back once after walking about a bow shot away. How could she stand watching her son die? Why had Abraham listened to that hateful woman? Tears welled. She collapsed in the hot sand and wept.
A beautiful, strong voice from above—like she would imagine an angel of the Lord sounded—spoke to her. “What ails you, Hagar? Fear not, for God has heard the voice of the lad where he is. Arise. Lift up the lad and take hold of his hand.”
I WILL MAKE HIM A GREAT NATION
Then as if it had been there all along—except it hadn’t—a well appeared. She hurried to fill the jug with the cool water and took it to Ishmael. Her son would live. Again the God of her master had promised that He would make her son into a great nation.
Each new report of Ishmael’s progression into manhood pleased Abraham and reaffirmed that God let not one of His words fall to the ground. But he kept the news hidden in his heart. No reason to upset his wife, for in Isaac would the Lord’s promise be fulfilled. The same day that Abraham learned that Hagar had taken an Egyptian wife for his son, Eliezer brought another word.
“Sire, the Philistines' king and the captain of his host, Phichol, approach with a small troop.” The steward went silent, waiting.
“Do they come in peace?”
“It appears so.”
“Are you positive?”
“Yes, my lord. They have neither archers nor war machines of any kind. And their ambassador, who came ahead, rests his bones in my tent.”
“Prepare the fatted calves. A feast is in order this day.”
As foretold, the king and his captain indeed came in peace. Midway through the meal, Abimelech stood and held his wine goblet toward Abraham. “God is with you in all that you do. Now swear unto me. Here. By your God. That you will not deal falsely with me, nor with my son, nor with my son’s son.
“But according to the kindness that I have done unto you, treat me likewise in the land wherein you have sojourned.”
Abraham stood and searched the words God had spoken to him. Nothing prevented him from agreeing. “I swear.” But he didn’t sit back down. “But are you aware that your servants have taken away the use of one of my wells?”
“No. I don’t know who’s done this thing.” Abimelech stood and glared. “Neither did you tell me. Why? I have heard not a word of this until this day.”
Abraham nodded toward the tent’s door. “Come with me.” He didn’t wait for the king, but walked out to where his young men had erected a small fold with the seven ewes he’d told Eliezer to bring in from the herd.