#NewBeginnings _ #Rekindled : A Love Restored

By February 16, 2016Uncategorized


It’s been weeks and still no word. I’m worried out of my wits and the tension in the camp among the few remaining men and the numerous women and children is palatable. Every time I think of the possibility of losing my husband or him not coming back or burying him my mind shuts down and I can barely move. I am so tired of fearing and living in the past and I am done being angry and holding onto pride. I am ready to be a wife Lord – Please bring my husband back to me safely. Please grant him success because losing Lot would destroy his heart.


Lord I know that I am not worthy. I know that many times I have doubted in my heart. I know that over and over I have received grace that brought favor that I did not deserve. And yet I come to you again asking that you will go with me as I walk into this battle.


Something woke me up. Something startled me. I don’t want to wake Hagar and I don’t want to cause alarm. Everyone is already skittish and both nerves and emotions are running high. I sit on my bed for what seems like eternity. I need to be sure that we are not being attacked. Slowly, I arise and wrap myself in linen, don my sandals and walk outside. The guard stationed outside my tent does not seem startled. I suppose he has been trained and already knew I was awake – he had already heard me. I nod at him and move away towards the tent that my husband and I have set apart as the Tent of Prayer. To my surprise, I find three other women there already. Each is silent in her petition to our unseen God. They start to rise when I enter but I urge them to continue. Their presence is strangely comforting and yet it is eerily disheartening. This dis-ease that I feel is real and has woken the mothers to pray for their sons and the wives for their husbands. I stay on my knees for hours and plead for the life of the men out there. I ask God to remember mercy. I remind Him of all the things my husband has done in His honor. It is uncharacteristic of our times for me to be speaking directly with God. I am supposed to be reciting the scripts of the Siddur – but I cannot. Reciting words written by a man in this Prayer Book brings me no comfort. I have watched my husband and how he talks to our unseen God and I know that I CAN have a relationship with Him. And so I pray from my heart and I plead from my soul.


The men are getting restless. They do not understand the importance of seeking God before a battle. They are tense and fearful. But God has blessed me with a faithful flock. They will follow me even unto death. Peace descends and envelopes me. It is as though God needed me to completely immerse myself in Him. And as I arise to give instructions, I cannot shake the feeling that somebody else is praying for me. I brush that thought aside and approach the men. I summon the captain of my guard. I had asked him to count the men earlier. He brings back a report of Three Hundred and Eighteen. Instead of being discouraged, I am comforted. I give instructions and ask him to pick eight men. Those who can lead. Eight leaders. He does so and brings them to me. I then ask him to split the remaining men equally into four and number them. The leaders help him and in no time there are four companies of Seventy Seven men each. I assign two of the leaders to each company and then my captain and I pick one company each. I send word of which direction each company will go and what the signal will be to attack. I bless my captain and each leader and then bless their men. In the still of the night we descend upon the enemy and attack … my blood is boiling and adrenaline pumping as my sword slices open the neck of my fist victim. The rest is a blur … … …


The women stayed with me for hours even as my bowed posture eventually knelt down and stretched out to laying prostrate on my face. At the crack of dawn I open my eyes to find the tent overflowing. I am shocked. As I make my way outside I find that women and children have surrounded the tent. The entire camp is here. All the women, all the men left behind, all the bond servants, all the children. I did not know when this happened and I am shocked by it. Slowly as I make my way past them, I begin to touch each hand and bless each head. Slowly as I walk past them, my inner eye is opened and for the first time as I cast my eyes across this mammoth crown that is my tribe, I hear That Still Small Voice that my husband always speaks of – It whispers the strangest words: “You Shall Birth A Great Nation”. It literally takes my breath away. I do not know what it means. I had long ago stopped thinking about children. And so I embrace this great nation before me as a matriach does her dynasty. This is the great nation that my husband and I have birthed. I have peace as I enter the tent and I am at ease as I find Hagar has already prepared my morning bath and is working on a meal. I have no desire to eat and ask her to stop. Today I will not eat. Today I will wait on the Lord on behalf of the father of this great nation, on behalf of my husband, on behalf of the love of my life. Keep him Lord, for me. I will not eat until my husband returns. And if, per chance he does not return, I will know what to do when he doesn’t.


There is word from the watch tower. A great commotion has been observed on the horizon. For obvious reasons, once Abraham and the men left, I instructed that our camp be relocated to the base of a mountain where we could easily have the shelter of the mountain from the bitterly cold desert nights but also because it is easier to defend ourselves when no attack can come from our. My husband had approved this plan before his departure and I did not shared it with anyone in order to ensure our safety. If the company is riding deliberately towards us, then my husband must have survived. I am hopeful. I gather the women and we begin to cook. Water is fetched. Fires are lit. Lambs are slaughtered, bread is baked. Basins are filled. Baths are prepared. No expense is spared. Our men are coming home! It takes them half a day to reach us. When they do, I search out my husbands eyes. By his eyes I will know if we were victorious. I cannot see Lot, neither can I see his wife and two beautiful daughters. But the company that returned is larger than the one that left. As I look around I recognize many men who had left with Lot. Their shame is apparent. They cannot look me in the eye and gather in one corner of the camp, outcast and downcast. I gather the women again and each tent gives one tenth of the feast they had prepared. A contingency fetches water and some of the men begin to pitch tents for families. The Lord has confirmed His word and the largness of this great nation has multiplied. The Lord has indeed extended the place of my tent. And so we welcome them because they were once a part of us and today they are with us again. Their experience has humbled them and I admonish anyone I find looking down at them. The prodigal son has returned – we will make a feast and not make a scene!


As I step into our tent, I am surprised to find my Sarai on her knees at the door, waiting to remove my sandals and wash my feet. She does so lovingly. I notice that something has changed but cannot put my finger on it. I step into the bath and wash the strain of war from my body. The horrors in my mind of the carnage that was left behind cannot be washed away but the physical grit I scrub until my skin is burning. The water turns murky and red partially from the desert soil, but mostly from the blood of war. As I sit to enjoy my first real meal in weeks, I notice that my wife has lost weight. I am slightly alarmed but she brushes off my questions with questions of her own. Where is Lot? What happened? The heaviness returns to my heart. It is a bitter sweet heaviness. My nephew, the closest thing I have to a son, returned to Sodom after the battle. His wife was arrogant in her demands that I give them back what was rightfully theirs. I stopped her in her tracks and silenced her with a slap. Her tirade of anger and profanity ceased but the hatred in her eyes had grown. I first gave one tenth of our bounty unto Melchizedek, the king of Salem. I further divided in equal portion to each family that had been taken captive, nine tenths. The one tenth remaining I brought home and plan to divide it equally among the families of those who have been faithful to me. The men who decided to come back wanted nothing to do with the bounty. They were willing to come back as slaves. And so they gave their share to me – I passed it on to Lot. My nephew, in his anger and arrogance at my disciplining his wife, walked away without a goodbye or a thank you. My heart is broken. He is alive and I rejoice over that. But my heart is wounded. I fear that this is the last I will see of him. I know that I am dead to him.


I want to be angry at Lot and his wife – but I have spent too many years holding onto bitterness and anger. I feed my husband and as the sun goes down, I send Hagar away. For the first time in years, we lay as a man and his wife and I am content as I fall asleep in his arms. I awake with a start to find him gone. I am used to rising at this midnight hour to pray for him. And so I know that I will find him in prayer. As I enter the tent of prayer I am surprised but not alarmed that he is not there. He must be waling the perimeter of the camp observing security. I enjoy the solitude of the next few hours. Tonight, the tent will not fill with women because tonight they are occupied by their men. I pray for Lot and his wife. I pray for Abram that God would heal his heart. I pray for myself that God will teach me once again how to be a good wife. As I arise from my favorite position of prayer, I find my husband kneeling beside me. He holds my hand and brings me down to my knees again. We pray together for the first time since I have known him. As we return to our tent at dawn, my world is at peace and my joy is complete.


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Author Bev

I am Beautiful - Empowered - Visionary

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