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Bible Love Stories ...

A Letter to Bathsheba

Did you know that he watched you while you washed?
Did you see him there on the roof
catching the last rays of the sun
that golden man
King
who sang, prayed and who fought with equal passion.

Did you feel his eyes on you
admiring, desiring?
Did you feel beautiful again?
Oh how you longed to feel lovely again
more than the dutiful wife of a good man
who cared more for his soldiers than he did for you
who prized his honour & chose the company of servants
while you lay waiting for him
in the bed you shared so rarely.

How you longed to feel lovely again
almost as much as you longed for a child
for the swell of fertility and the flood of affection
for a future.

But – ah – to be admired by the King!
He who could have any woman in the world
that he might notice you!

Did you desire him
undress him in your imagination, alone in your bed?
In that intimate moment
stolen out of time
did you shyly show him your body
as you washed your hair?

And the next day when his servants took you to him
did you tremble as you dressed?

To be alone with him … what magnificence!
Did you trust him?
Were his hands gentle against your skin?
Did he still the terror?
Did his kiss turn you inside out
and shatter your world?

And in the weeks and months that followed
the cruelty of power
the price of passion
the blame and the shame
the doubling of grief
the madness of love and anger

What did you cling to?

I hope for you
a beauty strong to survive the battering of the days
a beauty of soul grounded in silence
to stand as a queen must
before people and kings
before God
broken and remade
lovely through pain
loved and loving
seen and seeing

a foundation of wisdom for a new generation.




A harvest love story

Boaz

It was the busiest time of year
the start of the barley harvest
the sun hung high and hot
over golden grasses full of seed.

Everyone’s out there
men with their long blades
women with their sacks
as we do every year.

Our people, singing our songs
working to our rhythms.

“God be with you” I call
“And God bless you” they call
and we laugh and slash and gather.
Our people, our land.

But who is that
alone in the far corner of the field?
I hear my people murmur about her,
muffled jokes about places they have never been.

I watch her as she worked
grace & pride in her movements
strong, lithe, lovely.

I walked over to her and she stiffened,
braced herself, probably expecting me to order her off my land
but she looked me in the eye, half fearful half defiant.
(Please don’t be afraid of me, strange girl!)
I say “Stay. You’re safe here. Help yourself”
and she crumpled to her knees with a single sob
thanks me with hungry eyes and gracious words.

I turn angrily to look at the others
- they’ve stopped work to watch!
Had no one spoken kindly to you, strange lady?
Had no one spoken to you at all?!

How strange to not belong.
I’ve always been here,
this land, this people

But she … she was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen
looking up at me through brave tears
that golden morning.

Who am I that you should care for me?
You so lovely, you so kind
Why would you choose me to love?
 
Ruth

I could have gone back, you know,
to my father’s house.
I’m not afraid of him,
I’m not afraid of hard work.

But I made my choice.
Better a strange land
than all those strange men wanting me.

Better a new start than all those old arguments.
Better one woman who loves me
than a village-full of bickering.
And I knew that she needed me
and I needed her.

So here we are.
She is home
but she has returned as a stranger to herself
No one else knows her
No one else can hold her in her lostness.

And so I worked
and ignored the stares and whispers.
I expected no kindness or affection.

So when he spoke to me
I was undone
and when he reached out to me
took my hand and pulled me to my feet
the warmth of him flowed through me.

And then at lunch he called me to sit beside him
and my arm brushed his as he handed me bread.

He spoke with such authority to the others.
He claimed me – me! – under his protection
favoured, blessed.

He named me a woman of honour and courage – I am?!
He let me speak aloud so all could hear of my gratitude.
He gave me a place to stand.

Who am I that you should care for me?
You so lovely, you so kind
Why would you choose me to love?

Naomi

Oh Lord my God
here I am again
and you – are you here in this place
any more than in that other cruel one?

I’m tired of weeping
tired of raging against you

I’m just here
quite stripped away
nothing left of me at all any more
I’m just a gaping hole
filled with the ache of love and life
rotted away by death
everything tastes bitter

I have nothing
no one cares 

Alright, yes, well, except her
silly girl, what did she want to hang around me for?

Alright, yes, I’m sorry
I know I should be kinder to her
but my need for her
my love for her
frightens me
surely she too will leave me!

Oh Lord my God
despite myself I feel you.
Stop it, stop stirring up hope in me!
What use have I for hope?

Oh Lord my God
I pray for her
Forget about me, but her, her …
sustain her with your blessing
build a future for her, a home, a family
bring her a good man
… a good man, now there’s an idea!

This old woman knows a thing or two yet!

Who am I that you should care for me?
You so lovely, you so kind
Why would you choose me to love?

and then …

She told her son, years later
about that night after the harvest party
in the threshing room
how she hid, crept silent in the dark
afraid that her heart was beating loud enough to wake the town
and tucked herself down close to him
terror and hope pulsing through her.

And he told of waking
wondering how much he’d had to drink
confused, shocked
suddenly aware of the scent and feel of a beautiful woman
close to him
in the dark
and how they sat together and whispered together
and how he touched her face so softly
and she dared to ask for his protection
and he dared to offer it

And as they lay there almost touching
the griefs they each carried
and the loneliness they each held
crumbled away into the night
and trust was born
and marriage
and a future for a young woman, a middle-aged man and an old woman,
a baby and a line of the greatest of kings!

Who am I that you should care for me?
You so lovely, you so kind
Why would you choose me to love?
​
www.conversations.net.nz
Written by Silvia Purdie 

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