Harvest - 01 - Harvest of Rubies
Page 23
“Your husband must learn to love you, not your abilities. You do him no favors by trying to win him with what has far less value than your true self.”
I found myself on the edge of tears. “He won’t find much to love about me, I fear.”
Nehemiah jumped to his feet. “Are you daft, girl?” He exhaled an audible breath before sitting down again. “Sarah, you’ve never known your worth. You’ve never known how wonderful you are.”
For once I was speechless. Half of me longed for him to tell me what was so wonderful about me. The other half refused to believe any good thing he might have to say.
He was thoughtful for long moments. “I blame your father.”
“I am all for blaming my father,” I said with a shaky smile. “But what exactly are we blaming him for?”
“Perhaps if I told you about the past, you would understand. You don’t know your father very well. Did he ever tell you that he didn’t intend to marry?”
“That would require conversation of a personal nature. So, no. He did not.”
“He was a scholar from boyhood. A shy man. He told me once that he thought he would never marry, because he couldn’t imagine conversing with a woman. Then he met your mother and everything changed.
“She was beautiful as you know, and gentle. Somehow she had a way of putting others at ease. Your father fell in love with her at first sight, I think. He thought it was hopeless, of course. He couldn’t imagine such a ravishing creature returning his feelings, or settling for the humble life he would provide. She did, though. Your mother returned his love.”
I picked up an empty silver goblet that was resting on the table next to me and twirled it in my hand, blind to its ravishing workmanship. “I always knew that, somehow. She used to tease my father and make him laugh out loud. I haven’t heard him laugh like that in years.”
“I think she was the only woman with whom he had a deep relationship, certainly the only one with whom he communicated on a meaningful level. Somehow, she managed to draw him out of his shell. When she died, his world shattered.”
A memory of my father staring into space with red-rimmed eyes flashed in my mind. I saw myself as a child, calling out to him again and again, “Abba! Abba!” my voice full of the terror of a little girl who had already lost one parent and now stood petrified lest the other one disappear too. He had ignored my cries.
It wasn’t my Abba who had disappeared. It was me. He had stopped seeing me. I had grown invisible to him.
“I was there, remember?” I said to Nehemiah.
“You were there, yes. But you were too young to understand. In the first months of his loss, he was too devastated to pay any mind to you. Then as he started to emerge from that abyss of grief, there you were. He didn’t know what to do with you. He had no idea how to care for a child—a daughter.”
“I know. I was a nuisance to him.”
“Sarah, this is where you are wrong. He loved you. He didn’t know how to talk to you, how to show you what was in his heart. But he loved you.”
I crossed my arms, the silver goblet half forgotten in my clutched fingers, and sat up straight, my back rigid against his plush sofa. “My lord Nehemiah, I beg your pardon for disagreeing with you. But the truth is, I was a disappointment to my father. I was not as beautiful as my mother, or as winsome, or as sweet. I said the wrong things. I needed too much attention. I required too much care.”
“You think your father avoided you because he thought you weren’t good enough? Because he thought you demanded too much? No! Your father avoided you because he didn’t know how to reach out to you. The shortcoming wasn’t in you. It was in him.”
I blew out my breath in disbelief, but Nehemiah ignored me.
“When I came back into your lives, the damage had already been done. Somehow, you had come to believe that you had nothing of worth to offer. It had nothing to do with your father anymore; it was inside your own heart and mind. You were the one sitting on the judgment seat and finding yourself deficient.”
I crossed my arms tighter about my chest. “It was the truth.”
“It was a lie!” Nehemiah roared, making me jump.
He cleared his throat, and when he spoke, his voice was calm again. “I could see that learning to read gave you a sense of accomplishment. A new attachment to your Abba.
“I believed the Lord had given you the talent for a reason. I also hoped He would use it to bring you closer to your father. To heal this mistaken notion you harbored in your head that you are not special. Whenever I spent time in your company, I was struck anew by how precious you are. But you could not see it.”
My eyes grew round with wonder. He thought I was special?
“But you wrapped your whole soul around your work. You established yourself in court and became the queen’s favored servant. But did you feel secure and happy? Did your success give you peace?”
I chose not to answer and he pressed on.
“Do you know why not? Because you were out of step with God’s design. God’s design includes the use of our talents. When God created the first man and woman, He gave them many gifts. And then He gave them work that required the use of those gifts. He assigned them a profound task, much more important than anything you can accomplish in your lifetime. They were to take charge of the earth. They were to rule over the world.”
I placed the goblet back on the table with a restless move. I could tell Nehemiah was gearing up for a good long lecture. Perhaps that was what I needed, I thought, and forced myself to listen.
“But do you think the Lord counted them worthy because of their abilities?” he went on, ignoring my restlessness. “They hadn’t even begun their work yet when He made His first pronouncement over them. He called them very good when they hadn’t achieved a single thing. They hadn’t proven themselves capable. He pronounced them good not because of what they had accomplished, but because of who He had made them to be.”
I felt myself freeze as I heard those words. I had never thought of God’s response to Adam and Eve in those terms. Nehemiah was right. God counted them as good already, before they had done anything worthwhile.
Nehemiah nodded his head, as though he perceived that I was finally beginning to comprehend his meaning. “This is a life of right order, Sarah. The heart that knows the Lord as the source of its beauty and value knows freedom. You have lost yourself in the gifts God gave you. Those blessings have become your master.
“When your inmost being is in step with the right order of God, you reap His rest. Your soul tastes of His peace.
“Instead, your inner world produced turmoil, because you lost sight of who you really were. You lived in fear. Fear that you should prove dissatisfactory. For years I have watched you live a disordered life. You’ve placed your intellect, your ability to learn faster than most, your quickness of thought and understanding at the core of your life. This was never the Lord’s purpose for you.”
I made an involuntary gesture with my arm; the silver chalice knocked over. It made a hideous noise as it toppled on the polished ground. I hadn’t the strength to pick it up. I felt utterly arrested by Nehemiah’s words.
“My child, the Lord’s care for you has never depended on what you achieve. You were created for His love, not to be His work mule. Your accomplishments are meant to be a response to that love; instead you have made love a response to your accomplishments.
“I don’t know if your husband will ever love you the way you desire. I don’t know if he will ever see you as you truly are—a woman of rare qualities and beauty. I do know one thing, however. You can feel beloved and fulfilled even without your husband’s affections. The steadfast love of the Lord for you never ceases. Never, Sarah.”
I brought the edge of my expensive linen sleeve to my dripping nose. “I’m beginning to understand that. I am beginning to believe that the Lord is a very present help in my troubles. I have opened my heart to loving Him again.” I wiped the tears from my drowning eyes and w
ailed, “I wished you weren’t going away, Cousin Nehemiah.” I realized what I had called him and bit my lip. “I beg your pardon. I meant my lord.”
He laughed. “Cousin Nehemiah will do. Haven’t you been like my own daughter these many years?”
I gaped at him, awash in wonder. Since my mouth was already open, I decided to put it to use. “How did you grow so wise?”
“I pray often.” Nehemiah’s gaze dripped kindness. “I am pleased to hear that you have faith. You will need it.
“Sarah, I have probably climbed higher than any son of Israel in my generation. Some of our people respect me for it. Others revile me and call me a traitor for living with the Persians and adopting their ways.”
I knew what he meant. Having lived in the palaces of the king as a Jew, I had come across the prejudice of many of our people who thought I had grown too Persian. I nodded. “That must make it difficult for you, my lord. Unlike me, you are still very active in the Jewish community.”
He shrugged. “It’s not difficult if you don’t care for what other people think of you. Some judge me a great success. Others turn their backs when they see me. What’s that to me? So long as I have the steadfast love of the Lord.
“If one day all the works of my hand should fall apart at my feet, do you think I will lose the knowledge of who I am in God? Not for a moment! My heart may break. But not because I will think myself any less a man for that failure. I will always have my standing before the Lord as His child. I will always know I can go to Him and be welcomed. That is who I am. My work is a small part of me—an assignment from God. Whether He give it or take it away, it will not change how He perceives me.
“This is what I want you to learn about yourself, Sarah.”
Before I could respond, Nehemiah’s assistant burst in with some urgent summons and I took my leave, knowing my cousin had already extended more time to me than he had to give. I was in no mood to return to my apartment and chose to go for a stroll in the gardens.
As I walked under an archway covered with pink roses, I pondered Nehemiah’s extraordinary revelations. The first thought that came to me was that he thought me wonderful. Nehemiah? My accomplished, sought-after cousin thought I was wonderful? I knew he had shown me favor through the years, but I had always assumed that it rose more out of a sense of duty to my mother than any real affection for me.
It seemed I had so many things backward. I thought my father was disappointed in me and I had come to believe I was disappointing. I had spent so much time trying to earn his love and he had loved me already.
Nehemiah’s last words burned in my mind: That is who I am. My work is … an assignment from God. I didn’t have his ability to rest in the Lord’s opinion of me. I had built my own measures of worth and acceptability. They were false; they destroyed my peace. It dawned on me just how doggedly I served these measures. I served them with more fierce determination than I served God. I wanted the good opinion of others more than I wanted the Lord. I suppose I was trying to undo all the years in my life when my father had ignored me.
But if Nehemiah was right, the Lord cared not if I cost too much, or if I proved useful. It mattered not to Him if others thought well or ill of me. His measures were so different from mine.
Overwhelmed by my discoveries, I collapsed on a marble bench and leaned against its carved back. It was a breezy day and I felt the cold creep through my white linen dress. I pulled my legs up on the bench and wrapped my arms around them.
Nehemiah had accused me of living a disordered life. I, who once had charge of bringing order into the queen of Persia’s life, could not bring order into my own. I could manage records; my heart defeated me.
Who could set the heart free but God? “Lord,” I cried out, in my mind. “You don’t see things the way we mortals see them. We judge by outward things, but You look at the heart. So much of my life, I have chased after outward concerns. I have wanted to excel. But You, O Lord, know my heart. Please forgive me for serving the false masters of my soul. Help me to please only You.” I thought for a moment and then emended my prayers. “Help me to want to please only You.”
I ran out of words. Somehow, in the quiet aftermath of my prayers, I grew still in my soul. It was a healing stillness. I knew that I was at the beginning of this journey—knew that having become aware of my sin and desiring to change was merely the start.
Still, I felt as though another great wall around my heart had begun to crack. As if by acknowledging my upside-down values, I had allowed God to draw nearer to me. I felt His presence as that of a cherished Father rather than a distant deity. Like a child calming in the company of a loving parent, I grew contented, and before long, fell asleep.
It must have been past noon when I awoke, stiff from my nap on the hard marble. A blanket of well-being seemed to cover my soul. I grinned, full of joy.
I was too happy to go back to the confines of the palace and decided to continue my earlier walk. The sweet scent of thousands of perfumed flowers clung to me as I walked, making my head spin with their beauty. It wasn’t until I reached the inmost wall of the city, standing tall and white like a barrier of ice, that I finally stopped.
From the corner of my eye I saw a little boy coming toward me, his nursemaid a few steps behind. I recognized him. It was Arash, Damaspia’s favorite nephew. At three, he was adorable enough to have won an army of admirers. He approached me with bold steps; I had met him a number of times while working for the queen.
“Do you have any parchment?” he asked. I had once given him a small piece, and he now asked for parchment every time he saw me.
“Good afternoon, Arash. I’m afraid I haven’t any parchment for you today.”
“Oh.” One chubby hand scratched his head.
A butterfly with lilac wings, drawn to the scent of the potions in my hair, began to fly around me. “What’s that?” Arash cried.
“A butterfly.”
With slow, deliberate attention, he repeated the word after me. We had played the game before. Most of the time he already knew the words, but he pretended to learn them, anyway.
“What’s that?”
“A wall. Do you know what color it is?”
“White. What’s that?” he said pointing to the structure jutting out of the base of the wall.
“Ah. That’s a buttress.” I assumed this was a new word to Arash. “It helps hold up the wall.” I repeated the word, breaking it into syllables to make sure he knew how to pronounce it. A twinkle in his eye alerted me to the fact that one of us was in trouble, and I was sure it wasn’t Arash.
At the top of his lungs, Arash started yelling, “Butt-rest. Butt-rest.”
A throaty, masculine laugh just behind me made me swivel about in dismay. Darius leaned against the wall, one leg bent at the knee so that his foot could rest on the bricks.
“You’re quite the language teacher,” he said.
Before I could respond, I spied Damaspia walking toward us. What was this? The meeting place of the nations? Arash was still shouting Butt-rest at the top of his lungs. “I’m dead,” I muttered.
Darius’s mouth tipped in a sideway grin. In the sun, his green eyes appeared like living jewels. I gulped as I looked at him, and turned away. Distracted, I jumped up when I noticed Damaspia standing next to me. She sat on the bench and waved me to take my seat near her.
“What is that child shouting?”
I groaned. By now, Damaspia had caught on to her nephew’s words.
“Arash! Cease that at once! You know better.”
At the sound of his royal aunt’s reprimand, the child stopped his proclamation. I thought he might burst into tears of dismay. Instead, he climbed on Damaspia’s lap and began to give her loud, smacking kisses. “Happy?” he asked between kisses. “Happy?” We were all charmed, of course.
“You rascal. Yes, I am happy and I love you. But you are to cease your misbehavior.”
Arash smiled at Damaspia and nodded.
Damaspia t
urned to me. “Did this wretch Darius teach him that?”
I cleared my throat. “I’m afraid it was I, Your Majesty. I was trying to teach him to say buttress.”
Damaspia bit her lip, and then laughed. “You have an impressive talent for causing trouble without trying.”
“And I receive the blame,” Darius said, hand on his heart, as though mortally wounded.
“Oh sit yourself on the … butt-rest, and be quiet,” Damaspia said.
Darius obeyed. “You know, Arash has a point. I find this thing quite restful.”
I put my head in my hand.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Darius walked me back to the palace. We strolled at a leisurely pace, both of us silent. The memory of Arash climbing on Damaspia’s lap with such confidence haunted me. Damaspia was the queen of Persia. But to Arash, she was just a loving aunt. Even in the midst of being disciplined for wrongdoing, Arash had confidence in that love. He knew he could climb into Damaspia’s arms and be wanted there. Even though he had misbehaved, he knew his kisses brought pleasure to his aunt. Arash knew that he didn’t have to be perfect to make his aunt happy.
I couldn’t help wonder if the Lord’s love was like this, full of acceptance even when I had done wrong. Expecting change of me, but loving me before the change came. Was He, like Damaspia, joyful when I came to Him, even in my weakness? Was His loving-kindness that secure?
Yet He was holy too, and could not wave away my sins as if they were of no consequence. That was the point of the many sacrifices He had demanded of my people. The temple in Jerusalem, where I had never been, once ran red with the blood of lambs and bulls so that our sins might be covered. Jerusalem, which stood as a symbol of God’s love for His people, also represented His holiness. My heart contracted with the desire to visit the City of God. To offer Him sacrifices there. To know every wall that stood between us was finally crushed by His mercy. Perhaps then, I could run to Him like Arash to his aunt, and I could feel His tender embrace with no barriers of guilt or shame.