Young Writers Society

XX

It was Manasseh’s five month birthday. The day was on track to be just like any other.

The family was gathered in the main hall at the end of the day. Asenath had painted this room as a mural of Memphis on the shore of the Nile. Servants were clearing away remnants of that evening’s dinner. The sun had almost sent the last golden ray across the sky. Laughter and chatter filled the room. Zuberi and Asenath, Jr., played “you can’t catch me” around the table. Asenath affectionately coddled Manasseh on her shoulder.

You are so big. In a short time, you can toddle around with them too.

At a lull in the conversation, Joseph cleared his throat. “It’s time. Gather the children.”

Oni cast Asenath a pleading gaze. Asenath nodded understandingly. “Amnon, will you get Asenath and Zuberi? We women are a little busy with our babies.”

Amnon flashed his bright smile. He got up and went to Asenath. She squealed as he swept her up and balanced her on his hip. “Come on. It’s time for Uncle Joseph to tell us a story.”

Zuberi clapped. “Story time!” He climbed up into his dad’s lap.

The group fell silent. Asenath waited with baited breath. “Story time”, the time after the evening meal when Joseph told the stories of Elohim, was Asenath’s favorite part of the day. Joseph knew all the stories by heart and brought them to life.

What will it be tonight?

Joseph sat cross-legged at the head of the table. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and began. “I have been telling the story of my great-grandfather Abraham. How he was living in Canaan, the land of beauty, the Promised Land.” And with a few words and eyes that lit up at the mention of Canaan, Asenath felt transported to this land- what now seemed like her second home.

Canaan. I wish I could see it for real someday.

“Today, I will tell you one of my favorite stories. Abraham has to face his most difficult test when Elohim asks him to do the unthinkable.” Joseph’s eyes closed as if in pain. “Kill his only son.”

“What?” Asenath exclaimed. “Elohim is love! He wouldn’t do such a thing!”

“Elohim gives and takes away,” Joseph said soberly.

Asenath looked at her only son. He was sucking his thumb with the face of perfect contentment. She playfully touched his other hand. He gripped it and wouldn’t let go.

My beautiful, strong son. Would Elohim make me…no. That doesn’t make sense.

Joseph continued his story. He motioned, moved all around the room, and played the different characters.

Asenath listened, totally enthralled. She could have been distracted by the background noise, the city night life, quarreling servants, or the flickering lights of the stars reflecting in the pools of the gardens, but she wasn’t. Her rapture was hearing the deep, melodic voice of Joseph telling the story of her King.

“But father,” Joseph, acting as Isaac, inquired. “We have wood and fire, but where is the lamb?”

Smart boy.

“Abraham turned with a lone tear in his eye. What could he say to his son that he loved? What was Elohim doing? Yet, he answered with words that did not seem to come from himself. ‘Elohim will provide the lamb for the offering for Himself, my son.’ He struggled to hold back his tears at the word “son”.

Asenath sat on the edge of her seat while Joseph told how Abraham built the altar, then tied his son t it.

“With trembling hands, Abraham picked up the knife. It gleamed in the sunlight.

No! No! Don’t do it! This can’t be what Elohim wants!

“He hesitated for a moment. But he had come too far to back out on Elohim now. With an agonizing heart, he raised his arm ready to plunge the knife into his son’s heart.” Joseph held his hand over his head, his arm literally shaking.

Stop!

She heard a faint whimper. It didn’t bring her attention away from the story, but Joseph turned his head. He dropped to one knee and let his arm fall loosely at his side.

Asenath snapped back to real life.

It’s only a story. Breathe.

Turning her attention the distraction, she saw the source. Zuberi had fat tears rolling down his cheeks and was sobbing in Msrah’s arms.

Poor thing. He forgot how little he is.

Joseph gathered the boy into his arms and rocked him back and forth. “Shhh. Don’t cry. Abraham doesn’t kill Isaac. You don’t have to worry.”

Way to ruin the story.

Zuberi sniffled. “He doesn’t?”

“No. Remember Isaac is my grandpa. If he had dies, I wouldn’t be here.”

Why didn’t I think of that?

Joseph didn’t dramatize the rest of the story. He told it in quiet tones to Zuberi. The sight made Asenath smile. A muscular Hebrew man with hands that could twist iron bars and eyes that could melt hearts holding a skinny Egyptian slave boy in the dining room of an Egyptian noble. But the Hebrew and the Egyptian noble was the same person.

I have an amazing husband.

“As Abraham was about to kill his little boy, the angel of Elohim said, ‘Abraham!’ Abraham stopped. The angel said, ‘Don’t kill your son. Now I know that you respect Elohim, and you are willing to give Him anything, even your own son.’ Abraham looked up, and there was a perfect ram stuck nearby. Abraham took the ram and sacrificed it instead of his son. Abraham praised Elohim by calling him by one of his other names, Jehovah-Jireh. He will provide.”

Oni interjected, “Elohim is God. Is Jehovah-Jireh another god?”

Joseph was alarmed. “No! Jehovah-Jireh is just another name. For example, I have many names. Joseph, Zaphenath-paneah, Husband, Son, Father. But, I am the same person. Elohim, Jehovah, Elyon. All the same person!”

I have so much to learn.

“So they walked down the mountain with…”

“Zaphenath-paneah.”

Another interruption!

This interruption was a slave. He gasped for breath, and beads of sweat glistened on his red cheeks.

“Yes?” Joseph answered.

“An urgent message from the Pharaoh.”

Joseph’s brow wrinkled in worry. “Of course, one moment. Msrah, take your family home. Bright and early tomorrow.”

Msrah bowed. “Yes, my lord. Come Zuberi, Asenath.”

“What’s happening?” Zuberi questioned.

“It’s time to go home,” Oni explained gently.

Zuberi made a sorry face. “I want to hear the end of the story,” he whined.

“Me too,” little Asenath chimed in.

Oni held out her free hand, “We will hear it tomorrow. Come on, will get you sweet goat’s milk before bed.”

Immediately, the children’s faces changed.

“Milk!” Asenath squealed.

Zuberi took his mother’s hand, little Asenath took his, and Msrah led his family out.

Asenath smiled a little as she watched them leave.

“Now, what is the message?”

The slave opened a scroll. “From Pharaoh Senusret II, son of Amenhotep I, Pharaoh of Egypt, King of the Nile…”

Joseph rolled his eyes. “If this is so urgent, skip the introductions.”

The slave was relieved. “The Pharaoh requests your presence and the presence of your wife and ward at the city of On. The high priest of Ra Potipherah is on the doorstep of meeting Osiris and his fathers. He requires your immediate response.”

My father!

“Tell them that we will be there as soon as we can.”

The slave nodded and rushed out, not excited to ride the fifty miles to On that night.

“Joseph, we can’t go! He has disowned me, and, I feel terrible, but if he died I wouldn’t be that sad. He never loved me. I will not go all the way to On just to be kicked out!” Asenath stood firmly, arms crossed.

Joseph crossed his arms as well. “The decision is already made. We are going. Tonight.”

They stared each other down, but Asenath broke the awkward moment by staring at her feet instead.

I can’t resist that man for long. He is just too stubborn.

“Alright,” she whispered.

Joseph took her delicate, but lightly calloused hand into his.

“The reason we are going is not to put you through pain.”

“What do you mean?”

“Remember the story. Abraham didn’t understand Elohim, but Elohim had a plan. Well, I am nothing like Elohim, but I have a sort of plan. Can you trust me?”

Why is he so confusing sometimes?

She leaned closer to his warm chest. “I trust you with my life.”

#*#*#*#*#*#

The wind whipped through Asenath’s hair. She was curled up o the bottom of the chariot, trying to keep warm. She grabbed the corner of the blanket and pulled it tighter and the baby and her. Above her, Joseph drove the chariot like a master.

He has to be colder than I am.

She jerked as the chariot ran over a hole. “Ug,” she grunted.

I could have done this when I was younger, but now it hurts.

“Sorry, my love. We will be there soon.”

It was not normal for a woman to ride on the floor of a chariot. But they had to be there as soon as possible, and Joseph’s horse was the fastest in the land.

I could have taken the litter or come with Amnon tomorrow. But, I have to see my father before he dies. Right? Do I even care?

Manasseh whimpered under the blanket. She lifted the cloth to look at his little face.

He should get to know the love of grandparents.

A word from one of Joseph’s stories crossed her mind.

Restoration. What is that from? Jacob and Esau. Forgiveness. Reconciliation. That is what Joseph wants. And, I suppose, what Elohim wants.

Pulling Manasseh closer to her, she said, “For you, darling.”