the cushion where I had spent the past week complaining. The time of niddah always frustrated me, because my courses normally flowed for only three days, yet the Law constricted my movements for a full week.
“Time to relax,” Elisheba told me, placing her arm on my shoulders.
“I can’t relax.” I chafed under her gentle touch. “Uriah remainsaway from me, and another month has gone by. How am I supposed to bear a son when my husband is never here?”
“Do not fret, child. HaShem knows the desires of your heart, and He knows what is best. So come with me—we will let Amaris play her harp while I draw your bath. And while you soak in the mikvah , you will resign yourself to the will of Adonai. You will pray for your husband’s safety and smile in the sure knowledge that you will have a son when the time is right.”
I exhaled a heavy sigh and pretended acquiescence, though my heart groaned within me. I was not yet twenty and I yearned for my dreams with the frantic impatience of youth. Though something in me knew Elisheba was right, my strong will was not ready to surrender.
The house felt empty without Uriah, and so did my bed. I missed his company and his warmth, and every four weeks I felt nothing but frustration and sorrow during the time of my uncleanness.
“Why couldn’t Uriah have stayed home a few more months?” I asked, my voice tinged with whining. “No one would have blamed him if he tarried until I conceived. Grandfather is an important man in the king’s court, and he could have asked permission for Uriah to remain in Jerusalem. I should have gone to Grandfather in tears. I should have begged him to make sure Uriah remained at home another month—no, six months more.”
“And what would your husband have thought of all this tearful begging?” With an effort, Elisheba lifted the large pitcher we used to haul water from the well. “He would have resented your interference, and in time he would have resented you . A man like Uriah does not want special favors; he takes pleasure in doing his duty. He would not want to remain at home, living at ease and in luxury while his comrades slept on the battlefield.”
I thrust my lower lip forward in a pout. “But if he loved me, he would have asked. No man wants to leave an unhappy woman at home—”
“That’s where you’re wrong, child. Any man would choose to leave an unhappy woman at home, because no man wants the sound of a whining wife in his ears.” She braced her free hand on her hip. “So tell me—why has the happiest young wife in Israel become the most miserable?”
The question hammered me. Why? Because I wanted the son I’d been promised. And I wanted my husband. I was tired of waiting for them.
My blood ran thick with guilt as those thoughts took shape in my mind. My husband was attending to duties that both fulfilled and defined him. I had fallen in love with a warrior, a man just like my father. I knew what being a soldier’s wife entailed.
So why had I become more concerned about my own happiness than my husband’s? I had been telling myself that Uriah wanted a child as much as I did, but the desire to hold a son clearly tormented me more than it did him, and something in me resented the inequity.
I turned, not wanting Elisheba to see the guilt on my face, and heard the soft groan of the leather door hinge as she went for water. Amaris leaned on her crutch and studied me, her head tilting as her gaze met mine. “Are you all right?” she asked. “You don’t seem at all like yourself.”
“I’m not,” I snapped, too frustrated to exercise my usual patience with my sister. “I want a baby, but everything and everyone seems to be working against me. My husband has gone away without a word of complaint, Adonai is deaf to my prayers, the priest at the Tabernacle ignores me, and Elisheba insists on lecturing me.”
I knew my accusations were unfair, but rather than listen to a rebuke from a child, I turned and
“Time to relax,” Elisheba told me, placing her arm on my shoulders.
“I can’t relax.” I chafed under her gentle touch. “Uriah remainsaway from me, and another month has gone by. How am I supposed to bear a son when my husband is never here?”
“Do not fret, child. HaShem knows the desires of your heart, and He knows what is best. So come with me—we will let Amaris play her harp while I draw your bath. And while you soak in the mikvah , you will resign yourself to the will of Adonai. You will pray for your husband’s safety and smile in the sure knowledge that you will have a son when the time is right.”
I exhaled a heavy sigh and pretended acquiescence, though my heart groaned within me. I was not yet twenty and I yearned for my dreams with the frantic impatience of youth. Though something in me knew Elisheba was right, my strong will was not ready to surrender.
The house felt empty without Uriah, and so did my bed. I missed his company and his warmth, and every four weeks I felt nothing but frustration and sorrow during the time of my uncleanness.
“Why couldn’t Uriah have stayed home a few more months?” I asked, my voice tinged with whining. “No one would have blamed him if he tarried until I conceived. Grandfather is an important man in the king’s court, and he could have asked permission for Uriah to remain in Jerusalem. I should have gone to Grandfather in tears. I should have begged him to make sure Uriah remained at home another month—no, six months more.”
“And what would your husband have thought of all this tearful begging?” With an effort, Elisheba lifted the large pitcher we used to haul water from the well. “He would have resented your interference, and in time he would have resented you . A man like Uriah does not want special favors; he takes pleasure in doing his duty. He would not want to remain at home, living at ease and in luxury while his comrades slept on the battlefield.”
I thrust my lower lip forward in a pout. “But if he loved me, he would have asked. No man wants to leave an unhappy woman at home—”
“That’s where you’re wrong, child. Any man would choose to leave an unhappy woman at home, because no man wants the sound of a whining wife in his ears.” She braced her free hand on her hip. “So tell me—why has the happiest young wife in Israel become the most miserable?”
The question hammered me. Why? Because I wanted the son I’d been promised. And I wanted my husband. I was tired of waiting for them.
My blood ran thick with guilt as those thoughts took shape in my mind. My husband was attending to duties that both fulfilled and defined him. I had fallen in love with a warrior, a man just like my father. I knew what being a soldier’s wife entailed.
So why had I become more concerned about my own happiness than my husband’s? I had been telling myself that Uriah wanted a child as much as I did, but the desire to hold a son clearly tormented me more than it did him, and something in me resented the inequity.
I turned, not wanting Elisheba to see the guilt on my face, and heard the soft groan of the leather door hinge as she went for water. Amaris leaned on her crutch and studied me, her head tilting as her gaze met mine. “Are you all right?” she asked. “You don’t seem at all like yourself.”
“I’m not,” I snapped, too frustrated to exercise my usual patience with my sister. “I want a baby, but everything and everyone seems to be working against me. My husband has gone away without a word of complaint, Adonai is deaf to my prayers, the priest at the Tabernacle ignores me, and Elisheba insists on lecturing me.”
I knew my accusations were unfair, but rather than listen to a rebuke from a child, I turned and
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