Love Amid the Ashes (21 page)

Dinah hugged her fiercely and whispered in her ear, “Job needs to eat, but so do you. Widow Orma has been very generous to Nogahla and me. Yahweh provided the widow with a servant’s position, and she shares her two meals with us. Nogahla and I can bring part of our portions to Job.”

“No!” Sitis pulled away, her voice echoing against the canyon walls.

“Shh,” Dinah cautioned. “Why not?”

“If you’re caught, Sayyid will harm the widow or you or Nogahla, or . . .” Sitis’s crying made the rest of her reasoning unintelligible, but Dinah understood. Sayyid’s power seemed absolute in Uz. He’d blocked any opportunity for Dinah to use her midwife skills. He’d also hired the Nameless Ones to restore Job’s home, paying the bandits with the wealth he confiscated from Job’s Hebron caravan and what little he could scavenge from the shell of Job’s palace. The Nameless Ones had lingered for over a year, their only progress being the height of the ash pile that added to Job’s torment and soaked up the seeping of his sores.

Where are You, El Shaddai?
Dinah prayed. The only sign of God’s intervention was Job’s grueling survival amid unspeakable suffering.
But Yahweh must have some great plan for Job if He has sustained him this long.

Dinah held Sitis until the sun peeked over the eastern cliffs. The woman cried so many tears, she could have filled the central fountain three times over, but Dinah felt honored to be the pool that caught them. “Sitis, I will pray for your wisdom,” she said finally. “I believe El Shaddai will direct you in the days to come, and surely Elihu will return soon with your brother and Job’s uncle.”

Sitis’s features grew hard, her chin suddenly set in a defiant tilt. “Bildad and Eliphaz are powerful men, but they live their own lives. Bildad never had time for me as a child. I don’t expect his comfort as an adult. And as for your El Shaddai—He would never direct me after I’ve committed such blasphemy against Him.” Shrugging her shoulders, she added, “Besides, I’ve given up on all the gods. What good have they ever done me?” She stood and wiped her face, erasing all evidence of emotion. Dinah recognized the familiar mask of indifference she had once worn, now fixed firmly on Sitis’s face.

Oh, El Shaddai, please give me wisdom to show her Your love and forgiveness as Job showed it to me.
Dinah didn’t correct or reprove. Sitis simply needed to be loved.

When the woman turned to walk out of the canyon, Dinah’s heart plummeted. “Aren’t you going to see Job?”

“Please tell my husband I hope to visit him later today.” Sitis looked toward Sayyid’s home and then set out toward the siq. “I may have found a way to make the elders listen to my demands.”

Job watched Sitis walk out of the canyon, away from Dinah, and disappointment stabbed him. He watched Nogahla pass his wife and crane her neck, probably wondering, like him, why she was leaving so soon. Walking toward his dung heap, Dinah looked worried and drawn.
El Shaddai, if Your plan was to humble me, You’ve done it.
He’d brought this beautiful young woman to Uz to redeem her future, to give her a life after she’d experienced nothing but death and tragedy. Instead, she had saved both him and Sitis, offering friendship and a keen knowledge of herbal medicine after Sayyid had banned everyone in the city from helping them.

“Good morning!” Dinah called from beyond Sayyid’s guards, four men posted at the perimeter of Job’s canopied courtyard. She nodded curtly in their direction but walked past them as if she wore Philistine armor.

How I wish I could shout back my answer
, Job thought, his throat raw with sores. He studied her features, the painted-on smile, the sad eyes, the quaking cheeks. She’d been crying. What had she and Sitis discussed?

“How are you this morning? Any change?” Dinah slipped off her sandals at the edge of the ash heap and climbed to the peak where Job was seated. He noticed Aban approach quickly and little Nogahla offer a tentative smile. Dinah must have noticed as well, and she stood like a sentinel between them until Nogahla’s sandals were removed and the girl was halfway up the ash heap.

Job silently applauded Dinah’s maternal protection. Aban seemed too good to be true, apparently a compassionate mountain of a man, yet subservient to Sayyid’s wickedness. The captain slowed at Dinah’s challenge, pretending some issue with one of his guards but maintaining his boyish gander at Nogahla.

“No change,” Job croaked to Dinah, his voice rougher than usual with its first use of the day. The women sat on his right and left, no sign of disgust on their features, no revulsion or recoiling, though the worms in Job’s wounds still nauseated him.

“The worms aren’t all bad,” Dinah had said after using the last of the frankincense and myrrh several moons ago. “The worms will eat away the infection.” But Job appreciated their unplanned benefit. Before the grotesque infestation, Sayyid’s children by his concubines often crossed the canyon and braved the ash piles to throw dust or spit on him. Though not Sayyid’s legal heirs, they had certainly inherited his wicked character. The worms may not have eaten away all the infection, but they certainly scared away the heartless little children and even gave the taunting Nameless Ones pause.

“Good morning, Master Job.” Nogahla’s brilliant smile lifted his heart. He winked at her, their secret greeting.

“All right,” Dinah said, reaching for the bandage on his left hand. “It’s time for you to tell me about Bildad and Eliphaz while Nogahla and I change your bandages.”

“It hurts to speak,” he croaked, hoping the excuse would save him the emotional pain.

“I know, and I’m sorry we didn’t bring the mint tea to soothe your throat.” Dinah’s voice was weary with sadness. “But Sitis is hurting too, Job, and I need to know her history in order to help.”

Job nodded. Perhaps talking would distract him from the pain of the bandaging process, but where did one begin a life story?

While Dinah tenderly untied the first knot, he realized he should start with their connection to her abba. “Both Bildad and Eliphaz were disciples with your abba Jacob in the House of Shem. All three were my teachers.” He winced as Dinah pulled away the bandage, expecting overwhelming pain but relieved when it was manageable.

“Oh, Job,” Dinah said, gasping. Tears welled in her eyes. Nogahla staggered back.

Job looked at his hand and found the tips of his fingers gone. His fingernails had fallen away last week, and he’d felt no pain in his fingertips since then. Now he knew why. “Perhaps we’ll leave the bandages off my hands and feet,” he said, awed at the surreal sight. “That way I can at least say good-bye to them when they leave.”

Dinah wasn’t easily shaken, but she seemed unable to speak. Nodding her head, she continued to unbind his wounds, and Job was suddenly struck with an unusual wave of thanksgiving. For weeks he’d fought bitterness and despair as effectively as eating soup with two fingers. Now he prayed aloud, hoping to spill encouragement to his caregivers. “El Shaddai, thank You for my pain. At least my flesh is alive when I feel the pain.”

Tears threatened, and in an effort to keep the fiery drops from his fleshy cheeks, he continued with his story. “As I was saying, Uncle Eliphaz, Bildad, and Jacob taught both Zophar and me at the House of Shem. Uncle Eliphaz is Great-Abba Esau’s firstborn son, and Zophar is Uncle Eliphaz’s thirdborn son.”

Nogahla grinned, wiping a tear and unwrapping the large bandage from Job’s torso. “You’re making my head hurt, Master Job—thirdborn, firstborn, abba, uncle.”

Job tried to smile but simply managed to clench his teeth and draw in a quick breath against the pain. “Just remember this,” he said, when he could speak again. “Uncle Eliphaz was like a father to me when Great-Abba Esau killed my father.”

“What?” Dinah straightened, hands on hips, a single tear still lingering on one cheek.

Job gazed at the woman whose sapphire blue eyes could rain compassion one moment and cast daggers the next. “Uncle Eliphaz was to lead my abba and several others to kill your abba Jacob after he stole Esau’s covenant blessing. When Eliphaz spared Jacob’s life, my abba told Esau the news. The Edomites say Esau simply shoved Abba, who then struck his head on a rock—but we all know it isn’t true.”

Her hands fell limp, resting at her sides, eyes soft and compassionate again. “I have seen you with Esau, Job. How do you show him love and respect after such a wrong?”

“Because El Shaddai forgives me for the wrongs I commit, Dinah, I can then forgive others.” Job watched his words settle into her heart, her features change from granite to workable clay.

“Master Job takes lots of baths.” Nogahla exchanged a knowing grin with Dinah.

“Baths?” Job glanced at the women, waiting with anticipation for another of Nogahla’s simple treasures of wisdom.

“Ugh!” Dinah expressed her good-natured frustration. “I have found it difficult to forgive someone.” She cast a sidelong glance at Sayyid’s big captain still hovering at the base of the pile. “Nogahla explained to me this morning that forgiveness is like taking a bath. We do it over and over to stay clean.”

Again Job winked at the wise young girl and offered an approving nod to Dinah. Jacob’s daughter had proven fertile soil, a soul hungry for Yahweh.

“All right,” she said in feigned reproach, “continue with your story.”

“After my abba died, Uncle Eliphaz raised me as his own son, continually teaching me the ways of El Shaddai. That’s why his son Zophar and I are like brothers.”

He noticed Dinah’s discomfort at Zophar’s name. “So tell me about Bildad,” she said, searching through her basket, not so subtly changing the subject.

Job’s heart squeezed a little. How much should he say about Sitis’s older brother? He respected the man without question, but Bildad had hurt Sitis deeply and repeatedly, and she still carried the scars. “Bildad is the son of Shuah, but neither are truly Ishmaelites.”

Dinah set down her basket and herb pots, staring at Job in disbelief. “What do you mean? I’ve never heard this. Shuah is a great prince of Ishmael, and Bildad, a prince after him.”

“Yes, but Ishmael
adopted
Shuah. The two are actually brothers by blood. Ishmael is Abraham’s son by Hagar, just as Shuah is Abraham’s son by Keturah. When Abraham died, Isaac received all his father’s wealth, so Keturah was left without provision. Ishmael married the young slave-widow and adopted her sons as his own.”

Dinah blinked in astonishment. Job wished he could smile at the innocent shock on her face, but the stretch of his mouth would cost him too much. “Bildad views his disheveled heritage as a reason to prove himself. His heart is committed to teaching El Shaddai’s truths to the Ishmaelites though he acknowledges Isaac’s line holds the covenant blessing.” Job’s heart ached at the thought. “Just as my heart was committed to teaching El Shaddai’s truths to my family—the Edomites—though I acknowledge your abba’s line holds the blessing.”

Lost in grief at the mission that had died with his sons, Job didn’t realize Dinah had drawn close enough to whisper in his ear. “Why does Sitis feel Bildad betrayed her?” she asked.

Job squeezed his eyes closed and let salty tears and the excruciating stretching of his sores overwhelm the pain in his heart. “I don’t want to talk about that.”

Dinah paused. She seemed to respect his pain, but her intruding voice demanded an answer. “I need to know, Job. If Bildad doesn’t return with Elihu, I must try to mend Sitis’s broken heart.”

Opening his eyes, Job saw both Dinah and Nogahla waiting, concern etched on their faces. “Bildad studied at the House of Shem from the time he was eleven, instructed by Noah’s great-grandson Eber, of the priestly line of Shem. Bildad, Eliphaz, Zophar, your abba, and I are the only living disciples of Noah’s direct descendants. Bildad was forty when his and Sitis’s mother died, and their father died soon after. Bildad chose to continue his training at the House of Shem instead of returning home to be a father to Sitis. She blames Bildad
and
El Shaddai that she was raised by servants. She loved Atif and Nada but always felt neglected by her brother.” Job bowed his head. “But the second betrayal was worse. Bildad forced her to marry a disciple of the House of Shem rather than the man she loved.” He couldn’t voice the names aloud.
El Shaddai, please let Dinah and Nogahla understand.

“She loves that man from the House of Shem now, Master Job,” Nogahla said, tears glistening. “And she will see the wisdom of El Shaddai soon.”

Dinah spoke in barely a whisper. “How could you allow Sayyid to live across this canyon all these years? This was
your
city. You could have banished him.” Her voice rose, every word feeling more like an accusation. Still, he was glad the women had guessed who the men were without an explanation.

“At first I didn’t know who my young bride mourned. By the time I discovered it was Sayyid, he’d become an established merchant in Uz, and I thought I’d won my wife’s heart.” His lips trembled. “Dinah, true love must be chosen, not forced. If I had imprisoned my wife or removed her choice, would I ever have been certain of her love? Even this morning, when I watched Sitis walk away without visiting me, I didn’t question her love. I only feared for her soul.”