Love Amid the Ashes (12 page)

“Oh, mistress!” Nogahla was suddenly wide-awake in view of the splendor that awaited them. An ornate, canopied bed stood in the center of the room, and an attached balcony revealed a cluster of moonlit clouds just beyond a curtained door frame.

Nogahla ran to the balcony and gazed over the railing. “It’s a long way down!” Her voice echoed into the dark, still night.

Dinah chuckled despite her weariness. “Shh, Nogahla. I’m sure at least part of the town is trying to sleep.” Dinah joined her on the balcony for a few moments, taking in the majestic sandstone cliffs of Uz, wishing she and Nogahla could stay. “Come, we must try to sleep. We have no idea what tomorrow brings.”

With heavy hearts, the two walked back into the chamber and shed their outer robes. Nogahla shuffled toward the door. “I’ll be in the anteroom on the couch if you need me, mistress.”

“You will not.” Dinah smiled at the girl. Nogahla glanced back, arched eyebrows coupled with a hopeful grin. “Come on.” Dinah climbed onto the mattress, sinking down in its wool-stuffed softness. “I’m not sleeping in this big bed all by myself.”

~Job 1:22~

In all this, Job did not sin by charging God with wrongdoing.

Job walked through the dimly lit hallway, considering each doorway he passed. The third floor had been reserved for the women in his home. Once a lively haven for his wife, his daughters, and their guests, the red-hewn walls now mocked his solitude. On the way to his fourth-floor bedchamber, Job paused at the door marked by fourteen sheer linen curtains. Sitis loved fine linen, and he loved Sitis.

Each time Job traveled or his merchant cousin Zophar visited Uz, Job bought more linen for his wife. He remembered the first linen scarf he’d presented her at their wedding, its color reflected in her glistening ebony eyes. His grieving bride had learned to love him with each new scarf, and each day her heart grew more tender toward him. She had learned to let go of whatever—or whoever—bound her to the Ishmaelite village of her youth, and soon the scarves became the emblem of their love.

As he rubbed the gauzy fabric between his fingers, Job thrilled at the memory of the night she gave her heart and body willingly. The years that followed had been the happiest of Job’s life. His chest tightened, ached, remembering the day he’d destroyed the Chaldean temple. Something between them had died that day, something linen scarves couldn’t revive.

Pulling aside the drapes, he reached for the silver handles on the first set of double doors leading to Sitis’s antechamber. He paused. Perhaps he should wait until morning.
No. I’ve waited long enough
, he thought. He pushed open the doors, and Nada rose from an elaborate couch, eyes bleary from sleep. She must have decided to stay in Sitis’s guest foyer for the night.

“Master Job,” she said, “what are you doing here?”

“Go back to sleep, Nada. I’ve come to talk to my wife.”

The old woman was on her feet, hands on hips, a formidable barrier to the second set of doors to Sitis’s bedchamber. “The mistress is asleep, my lord. Come back in the morning.”

Job normally dismissed Nada’s protective nature as endearing; however, tonight his tolerance was spent. “You will move aside, old woman, or find yourself in the stable with the camels.” Shock showed only briefly before obedience overtook her. The woman stepped aside, issuing a loathing glance as Job passed.

Walking into his wife’s chamber was like swimming in a sea of fine linen. Long ribbons of sheer cloth hung like willows, catching the slightest breeze, diffusing light. A silent testimony of the love they once shared.

Job could see her empty bed. She was on the balcony, her sanctuary. He paused for a moment by the bed in the exact spot where they’d parted with such bitter words before he left for Hebron. They’d quarreled about Sayyid. She’d broken her promise and allowed him into their home again. To his knowledge, it was the first time in nine years. On that day, he’d left his responsibilities at the city gate early and found Sayyid and Sitis in the scroll room. Sayyid’s arms were coiled around her, and Sitis was struggling to escape his embrace.
But would she have remained in his arms had I not intruded?
The lingering doubt ate at his heart like maggots feasting on carrion.

Sitis’s quick gasp interrupted his thoughts. “Oh, Job. Your face.” She stood in the doorway of her balcony, the soft glow of moonlight revealing the lovely curves beneath her linen gown. She covered her mouth to stifle more cries.

Moving closer, Job saw in the dim lamplight that her grieving had been ceaseless, her eyes swollen, cheeks mottled pink. He moved to embrace her, but she stepped back, signaling the hesitation they both felt. He wondered again about the wisdom of seeing her tonight. Should he turn and go?

Their long years of marriage permitted the silence. Searching the windows of their souls, neither one flinched at the other’s probing gaze.
It’s why I love you so
, Job thought,
your strength, your fire, your will
.
But it also infuriates me.
He felt his anger rise at the memory of her outburst—and then he smiled slightly at the resurgence of ever-present love. He would stay.

She tilted her head with a frustrated, puzzled expression. “What can you possibly smile about tonight?” she asked, her words clipped, her voice tight.

“You.” He stepped forward again and traced her jawline with one finger. She didn’t pull away this time. It was a start. But what now? She tried to appear strong, but instead she looked vulnerable and frightened. He wanted to hold her, but her defenses built an impenetrable wall. He wanted to resolve their anger, but as long as she defended Sayyid and condemned El Shaddai, they remained at an impasse.
El Shaddai, show me how to begin.

Perhaps tonight, if he was cautious, Sitis would welcome her husband’s comforting embrace. Job took a step closer, and his wife did not retreat. He held her gaze before trying to hold her hand. Offering a weak smile, he rubbed his bald head and said, “I suppose I don’t look like myself with no hair and all this dirt on my face?” He tried to use his sleeve to wipe the ashen streaks away but suddenly felt her hands and a linen scarf on his skin.

Mopping the ashes from his face, Sitis said, “No, you don’t look like my husband at all right now.” She took his hand and led him to her bed, gently pressing his shoulders down so that he sat on the edge. She moistened her scarf in the copper water basin on the bedside table and reached up to wipe his forehead.

But he grasped her arm, halting her ministrations. “Close your eyes,” he whispered. Never one to submit blindly, she hesitated—but obeyed after playfully lifting an eyebrow.

“Is this your husband’s voice?” he asked softly.

“Yes,” she said, relaxing as Job placed her arm at her side.

“Keep your eyes closed,” he said. Then he stood, pressing his body against hers, steadying her. He could see tears starting to form beneath her thick, dark lashes. Job leaned down to kiss her gently. “Was that your husband’s kiss?”

A tenuous smile formed where his lips had been. “Yes.”

“And precious wife of my youth,” he said, sliding his hands around her waist, “is this your husband’s embrace?”

“Oh, Job.” Her defenses crumbled, and Sitis abandoned herself into his arms.

He held her tightly and buried his face in that tender spot of her neck that knew his kisses well.
Thank You, El Shaddai
, Job cried inwardly,
for this respite from cold indifference and heated anger
. Tonight’s loss of wealth had been difficult. The loss of his children, beyond what he thought he could bear. But when his precious wife cursed El Shaddai, he feared the loss of himself—for he believed God’s teaching that he and Sitis were one flesh. He breathed in her scent, brushed her soft curves, heard her quiet weeping, and was suddenly overcome by gratitude for this most precious gift from Yahweh.

Job began to sway rhythmically from side to side, and his wife’s tension fled. When she lifted her head, tears flowed into the small channels of fine creases made by years of smiles. “Job, I love you.” She had said the words a thousand times before, but tonight a new urgency swelled their meaning. Her eyes were pleading, digging deeply into his soul.

“Sitis,” he whispered, “I love you too.” She seemed desperate to hear him say it. Why? He studied her gaze. Perhaps the words were purer tonight, truer after so much of their lives had been stripped away. But as he examined her angled brow, full lips, and almond-shaped eyes, he saw fear in his beloved’s expression. “What is it, Sitis? What makes you question my love?”

She buried her head again and held him so tightly, he could barely breathe. Her weeping became as tormented as it had been during the calamities. “Job, hold me. You’re all I have. Without the children, I am nothing.” She was panting, struggling for breath. “Our home is empty. Our stables are empty. My womb is empty.” Her panic grew. He bent to lift her into his arms, and she curled around him like a child.

When her crying eased, she lifted her face, the longing evident. “We are the only two on earth who know this pain, who understand this grief. Please, Job, please love me. Fill my womb again.”

Job kissed her, overwhelmed by the need in her eyes. Oh, how he longed to love her thoroughly, to enjoy the well-ripened fruit of their lifelong union. His three-week journey had left him parched for his wife’s body, and somehow the raw grief sweetened the passion. But with every fiber of strength, he pulled away.

“Sitis, we must mourn seven days for our children and servants,” he said breathlessly. “The teachings of Shem say El Shaddai forbids marital relations during that time, my love.”

She pushed against his chest so violently, he nearly dropped her. “Your God forbids! Your God destroys! Your God hates! And I hate your God!” She ran to the balcony and clutched the railing, her shoulders heaving with sobs.

Job doubled over, stumbling to his knees as if he’d taken a physical blow. “Ahhhh!” He screamed long and loud, feeling as if he might retch. Covering his face in frustration and shame, he lifted his head toward heaven.
El Shaddai, how can I live with a woman who hates You?
Job waited for the thunder of God’s voice, for lightning to strike her down, for some kind of punishment or condemnation for Sitis’s blasphemy. Instead, he heard only the desperate weeping of the woman he’d loved for forty years. Still on his knees, he watched Sitis, alone on her balcony. And the broken pieces of his heart shattered smaller still.

Even before today’s tragedies, she had perceived El Shaddai as unjust. Did his refusal of tonight’s intimacy inflict yet another wound—bludgeoning her with the commands of God while he tried to live as a man of God?
El Shaddai, how do I love her and still obey You?
Confused and disheartened, Job gathered the woolen blanket from Sitis’s bed. Scattering pillows across the floor, he began a slow walk toward the balcony.

Sitis turned when she heard his approach. Trembling, she cupped her hands over her mouth and stumbled backward. “You hate me, don’t you? You’re going to put me away—judge and disgrace me at the city gate.” Her fear grew as Job moved toward her. He was afraid she would fall over the railing.

“No, my love. I would never—” He made a desperate grab for her and drew her securely to his chest.

Her arms curled between them, resisting his love, but at the same time she leaned into him, seeming desperate for his assurance.

He wrapped his arms around her, kissed the top of her head, and stroked her raven-black hair. “Do you know so little of my love?” he whispered. “Shh. Have you heard nothing I’ve said in our long marriage, my precious Ishmaelite princess? I adore you. I will never reject you.” All the while, his heart cried out to El Shaddai, fearing for his wife’s soul and her sanity.
El Shaddai, how do I convince her of both Your love and mine?

Sitis slowly relaxed, allowing her arms to fall limp at her sides. Job maintained his reassuring embrace as he retrieved the blanket from the tiled floor. The couple stood, cocooned together against the night chill, until Sitis’s despair found its voice. “Why does El Shaddai make such meaningless demands?” she asked. “Why does He take away everything I love?” Her voice was void of emotion, empty now.

Job squeezed his eyes shut. Her pain was unbearable. He tightened his arms around her and rested his cheek on top of her head. “When I discovered Sayyid was taking your secret offerings to the priests at Chaldea, I destroyed that temple in an impetuous rage, Sitis. I acted in the name of El Elyon’s judgment, but I also acted out of my own anger.”

Sitis kept silent, as had become her custom during the nine years since the incident.

Job continued, not knowing if she comprehended his words. “Tonight, even though I knew God’s good plan for mourning, I drew you to passion because of my own selfish desires.” He lifted his face to heaven and drew in a ragged breath. “Now, my precious wife, because I have allowed my human failings to stain God’s ways, you perceive El Shaddai as unjust and uncaring.”

“No,” she said as though observing from a distance. “I perceive El Shaddai as unjust and uncaring because He killed my children.”

This time it was Job who remained silent. His face twisted in uncontrolled sorrow, sobs escaping even as his wife stood lifeless in his arms. Their love, their marriage, had been so rich in every way—except the most important.
El Shaddai, please open her heart. I don’t know what else to say.
Finally, Job gently grasped her shoulders and leaned down to meet her gaze. For the first time, she looked away.

“Please, Sitis.” He cupped her face in his hands, and she turned to him, her stare as black and cold as polished obsidian. “I don’t know why our children are gone, our wealth destroyed, but I know El Shaddai’s commands are not meaningless. His ways are the ways of an all-knowing, righteous God. Just because we do not understand them does not mean they do not have merit. Just because we do not understand
Him
does not mean we cannot worship Him.”

Seemingly without her permission, her hard exterior cracked. Her eyes of black ice thawed, and tears trickled down. “I love you so much, Job,” she said, swiping at her tears. “But I don’t want your God.” Her head began shaking. “What will I do without my children—my daughters? They were my life.”

She collapsed into his arms, and Job carried her to the balcony couch, rocking her like a child. “Our babies are gone, my love,” he said through his own tears, “but we can still love each other well.” Job wiped a salty drop from Sitis’s cheek and listened to the stillness of Uz.

Oop-oop-oop.
A pink-and-black-crested hoopoe fluttered to rest on the balcony railing, and Job’s heart warmed.
Oop-oop-oop.
Sitis jumped when the little bird took flight less than three cubits from where they sat. The hoopoe hovered near a hole in the cliff face just outside Sitis’s bedchamber.

“Oh! That bird will make a mess of my balcony,” she said, momentarily distracted from her misery.

Job leaned back on the cushioned couch and pulled her closer. “I believe that little bird was sent by Yahweh at this precise moment to encourage us, my love.” Sitis shook her head in disbelief and her tears returned, but Job continued. “I have studied these beautiful little birds in my travels, and they fascinate me. The male and female are true to one another for life.” He lifted her chin and gazed into her deep wells of sadness. “And the mother hoopoe cares well for her young.”