No Woman So Fair (16 page)

“Seems I've heard this before,” Abram said, smiling. “What about that other girl? The one from the village of Laniel?”

“Her? She'll be fatter than a hippopotamus by the time she's thirty. No, I've got a new system for finding a woman now.”

“I'd be pleased to hear it,” Abram said dryly.

“Well, you have to look at her mother. If you find one with a pretty mother, then you'll have a woman who'll never be fat and ugly.”

Abram laughed aloud. He was always vastly amused by his nephew's schemes. “What if she's a poor girl?” he asked.

Lot chewed his lip thoughtfully, swinging the bird by its legs as he walked. Now he reached down and plucked out a handful of the white feathers and tossed them into the sky. As they fluttered downward, he said, “There's bound to be a rich woman whose family has a lot of money and whose mother is good-looking as well. I'll tell you what. When I find one whose mother is as pretty as Aunt Sarai, that's the one I'll have.”

Abram was pleased at the young man's fondness for Sarai. She was indeed a second mother to him. Lot's own mother had died not long after she had remarried, which had made the boy even more dependent upon Abram and Sarai. Lot continued to talk about girls, and finally he remarked, “Well, you know a man can't take the first woman he falls in love with.”

Abram was quiet for a moment, then said with a peculiar inflection, “I did.”

Lot suddenly turned. “That's right, you did. Saved you a lot of trouble, but I suppose the gods must have helped you. Did you pray for the gods to find you just the right wife?”

“Back in those days I prayed to a lot of gods.”

“Which ones?”

“All I could find. I was looking for the true one.”

Lot considered this for a while. “Most people,” Lot said cautiously, “think that all of the gods are true gods.”

“I can hardly remember a time when I believed that. When I was even younger than you, I began to think that there was just one God. I don't know why I thought that, but it came to me clearly.” Abram continued to speak of his search for God and how he had found Him in the desert that day long ago. Finally he said, “I'll hear from Him again someday.”

“Do you really think so, Uncle?”

“Yes. I can't believe that such a God would only appear to me once and never again. There is such a longing in my heart to know Him more. I can't believe that He would not want to satisfy that longing.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Well, you get thirsty, don't you, Lot?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Suppose there was no such thing as water. Water was made to quench your thirst. Food was made to satisfy your hunger. Rest was made to meet your need for sleep, and somehow I know that this longing I have is the same thing. I believe that the Eternal One, whom I have met, longs to satisfy the deepest need of every man.”

Lot admired his uncle more than any other man he knew, and for a time he questioned him about the God he prayed to. “Uncle, can I ask you a question? A personal one.”

“You can ask me,” Abram smiled, “but I won't promise to answer.”

“Well,” Lot said hesitantly, “did you ever…ever…”

“Did I ever what?”

“Did you ever go to one of the temple prostitutes?” Lot blurted.

Abram shot a quick glance at Lot, who was deliberately looking away. He saw that the boy's face was flushed and said quickly, “No, I never did, Lot. Those women aren't good for a man.”

“Most of my friends have gone,” Lot said defensively.

Abram almost said,
And have you gone too?
but he managed to choke back the question. He knew what a temptation it was for young men when women were readily available, and he knew also that temple prostitutes were considered a form of worship. The whole idea disgusted him, and he said, “I think a man ought to do better than that.”

Lot did not answer, and finally he turned to his uncle with a warm smile. “I think so too.”

The two walked briskly along the road with Abram speaking of the Eternal One. He desperately wanted Lot to find God, and he saw the young man was soaking all of it in.

Finally Lot interrupted him to say, “There's Gehazi.”

The men waited until Abram's chief herdsman came forward at a trot. Gehazi did everything fast. He walked fast. He ate fast. He even slept fast, it appeared. He stopped before them, a sunburned individual, scarcely larger than an adolescent boy but wise in the way of flocks, knowing more about animals than any man Abram had ever seen. “About time you two came back,” he grumbled.

“We found some good grazing ground over to the north,” Abram said. “When this grass is gone, we ought to move some of the flocks over there.”

“I knew about that already,” Gehazi said, shrugging his shoulders. He looked down at the bird in Lot's hand. “Did you bring that bird for me?”

“No, it's my uncle's dinner.”

“You get only one?”

“
I
got one. My uncle here, he couldn't hit a ziggurat from ten paces away!”

Abram laughed. “I think you're right about that. You're better at hunting birds than I ever was.”

Lot laughed and wandered off to speak to another one of the herdsmen.

Abram said, “How's the boy working out?”

“He's bright and good with the animals. He's a little lazy, though. You should've taken a stick to him when he was growing up.”

“Perhaps I should have,” Abram said, smiling.

Gehazi sighed, his eyes fixed on Abram's face. “You would never have done it, not you. Spoiled the boy rotten, I'd say.”

Abram nodded. “I guess I did, Gehazi. I love him so much—I just never can say no to him.”

****

Sarai rose to meet Abram, taking his hands and kissing him. “I've missed you,” she said.

“I've missed you too.”

“Did you find more grazing ground?”

“Yes, and we'll be moving some of the flock there. I talked to Gehazi about Lot. He says he's a good herdsman. Just a little lazy.”

Layona came out to meet him and said, “I fixed you a good supper, master.”

“Well, that's good. We only got one bird.”

“I'll fix it for you just the way you like.”

“You always do.” Abram smiled at the woman fondly.

Sarai watched this brief scene cautiously. Layona had become a most helpful servant and an excellent cook. She was still an attractive woman, even though she too was getting on in years. Sarai had expected that long ago some young man would have taken her for his bride. Several had made offers for her, but Layona had begged each time to be allowed to remain with the family. It was common practice for men to take on female servants as concubines who would bear them sons, and Sarai often wondered, as she did now, if Abram had ever considered doing so with Layona. But then she dismissed the thought. She wasn't being fair to him. Abram had never expressed anything toward Layona other than simple affection.

Now Sarai waited until Layona brought out the meal—mutton soaked in sour cream along with wheat cakes dipped in oil.

“What have you been doing while we were gone?” Abram asked his wife.

“Oh, nothing really. I've been visiting with Milcah and the baby.”

Abram was very sensitive to his wife's sadness over being childless herself. Quickly he said, “We need to go into town to stay for a time, Sarai. To have an extended visit with the family—and buy you some new things.” He reached over and touched her cheek. “A pretty wife like you deserves pretty things.”

Sarai reached up and covered his hand with hers. “That would be fine,” she said quietly.

****

Abram's parents now lived in one of the finer homes in Ur. Though the trading business was faltering, its earlier success had provided a fine house. It had two large stories, built of mud bricks around an open courtyard. There were lavatories and drains, but no baths. The upstairs housed the bedrooms, all of which looked down on the open courtyard, and the area around the courtyard on the ground floor had rooms for cooking, washing, and spinning, and bedrooms for the servants.

As Abram and Sarai entered the house, they were greeted by Abram's parents, Terah and Metura. “About time you came to stay for a while!” Terah said. “You've neglected your mother and me badly.”

“I'm sorry, Father,” Abram said. “You're right. We'll have to try to see you more often.”

Metura came over, and Abram bent over and kissed her. She patted his cheek and said, “You look thin, son. I'm going to fatten you up a little bit.”

Abram was very fond of his mother. He embraced her and said, “That's good. And you'll get to pamper me all you want to. This woman here never pays me any mind.”

Metura looked at Sarai, who was smiling. “I believe you've taken up lying in your old age, son. Come along, Sarai. Let's see what we can scare up for these two hungry men.”

As the two women prepared the meal, Abram accompanied his father up on the roof. The shadows were growing long now, and a breeze was coming over the rooftop. Terah had been listening to Abram's report of the flocks, and he expressed his gladness that the herding business was going well.

“I wish things were going as well for me.”

Abram glanced at his father with surprise. “The business still isn't going well?”

Terah had purchased several boats lately for his trading business, sending them upriver past Uruk to the distant villages along the route to Babylon. People there seldom got into the larger cities, and Terah had done well with the trading in the past.

“It's not as easy as it used to be. There are other traders now. Some of them are pretty sharp fellows.” He turned suddenly and said, “I want Lot to stay with us and learn the business.”

Abram shook his head firmly. “I don't think we could do that. Sarai and I need him, and he hasn't learned the herding business well enough yet.”

Terah was a man who did not like to be crossed, and he argued for a time, but in the end he saw that Abram was determined. He stared out over the city, then said, “You know, I have thought about leaving here and settling farther north.”

“I thought you'd be here forever,” Abram said in surprise.

“A man needs a change every once in a while. You ought to change too, Abram.”

Abram did not answer but said instead, “Mother wouldn't like moving.”

“No. Women like things to stay the same.”

“She hasn't seemed too well lately.”

“She'll be all right,” Terah said brusquely. “But I'm pretty sure we're going to move.”

Abram said nothing of this to Sarai. The two stayed in town for a month. Sarai bought many things in the markets and enjoyed their stay, but Abram, as always, tired of the town quickly. When they went back home, he fell at once into the life of a herdsman. He thought about his father and wondered what would come of his intention to move.

****

The sun had barely risen as Abram walked along the rocky way. He had a staff in his hand and was seeking a yearling that Gehazi said had wandered off. Such things often happened, and Abram was always concerned about every animal in his herd. This one was a particularly fine one, and his eyes moved to and fro as he strolled along looking for it. The morning breeze was brisk, but already the land was beginning to heat up.

Abram searched for several hours and then decided that a wild beast must have gotten the lamb. He sat down on a rock and pulled out his water bottle and took a few swallows. As he corked the top, he felt something strange about the landscape. He looked around and saw nothing different, but then he heard a voice behind him.

“Abram?”

Instantly Abram fell down on his face. He had the sensation of a tremendous pressure, and somehow the light was different. It was purer than sunlight, clear and pale and strong. There was no doubt in his mind who was speaking to him.

“Yes, O Eternal One?” he whispered.

The voice spoke clearly and sonorously.
“Leave your country, your people and your father's household and go to the land I will show you. I will make you into a great nation and I will bless you. I will make your name great, and you will be a blessing. I will bless those who bless you, and whoever curses you I will curse, and all peoples on earth will be blessed through you.”

Abram's heart was full, so full he could not speak. For a long time after the voice had ceased, he stayed on his face, his forehead pressing into the earth. Finally he lifted his head and saw that the light had faded. Getting to his feet, he stood still for a moment, his head bowed, and then he nodded slightly. “Yes, O maker of all things—I will obey your voice.”

He turned, and as he made his way homeward, he knew that something had changed inside his very being. He remembered his grandfather saying once,
“Sometimes a man bends over to pick up a small thing—and when he straightens up, his whole world has changed.”

“Yes, Grandfather, I went looking for a small thing, and now my whole world has changed!”

Abram looked toward Sarai, who was sitting across from him in the tent. The two of them had just had a good meal, and now the darkness had fallen so that the lamps cast a flickering shadow on Sarai's face. He thought again what a beautiful woman she was.
She's more beautiful to me now than the first day I saw her
. He saw also that her face had matured, and he knew that her failure to bear a child had left an emptiness in her that nothing he could ever give her or do for her would fulfill. Now he hesitated to tell her his news, for he was certain she would be disturbed.

“Sarai, we're going to have to leave this place.”

Sarai looked up quickly. “You mean move the flocks farther north as you were talking about?”