by Caryl McAdoo
What fun!
How he had missed his old friend, yet so many years passed without thinking of him in the valley. Hadn’t realized how lonely he was without his Lion and all the rest to run and romp with. And now, he’d see Him again and be able to thank Him for His great sacrifice, repent for his sin that had separated him from the best friend he’d ever known.
“Look, beloved, Abba is putting me in your arms.” The baby girl wailed then cooed.
“Yes, and not the first time I’d deal with your crying.” He pulled his wife even tighter and grinned. “The happiest day of my entire life. Oh, I love you, woman.” Then it all disappeared as his feet touched down.
“Padam, Meve! It’s been so long.” Abel and his sister stood in front of a large crowd. Hundreds of folks smiled and welcomed him and his beloved.
He opened his arms wide and his daughter ran into them. “Dear Sheriah, how I’ve missed you.” He’d spoken, though no sound made it to his ears. Very strange. He held her long and joy filled his soul. Then, his daughter traded places with Abel and hugged her mother while he and his gone-too-young boy reunited.
Utter bliss filled him to see them both again.
“Who are all these people, Son?”
Though Abel opened his mouth, before any words passed his lips, a fog engulfed Adam. Abel wrapped an arm around his shoulder, as Sheriah did her mother. “Come, Padam. I’ll show you your new home, and you may rest before meeting everyone. We’ve all of eternity for introductions.”
987 years after creation
After patting the dirt around the last sapling, Lamech stood and leaned on the shovel. The new stand of gopher trees warmed his heart, but how many more would he need? Not counting the sprouts, the grove had grown to over five thousand trees. He faced his father.
“Any idea how many more we’ll need?”
Methuselah laughed. “Any idea how long I will live?”
Using the shovel like a staff, he joined him, chuckling, and fell in beside the older man he loved and respected with his whole heart. Could a son love his father more?
How Abba blessed him.
“Well, let’s see, we celebrated the three hundredth anniversary of your birth last month, so I say you’re still a young man, barely reaching your prime. At least another six hundred and thirty years, maybe more.”
“Who knows? Just because Padam lived that long does not mean we all will.”
“Father Seth is already over eight-fifty, and his beard not even completely grayed yet.”
“True, but your grandfather is already totally white-headed. How do you explain that?”
“I cannot, unless it’s all that time he spends on God’s Mountain.”
Methuselah fell silent a few steps then stopped when he stepped out of the forest’s shade and that very peak came into view. “Each year since Mother’s death, he spends more time on the summit.”
Lamech wanted to kick himself. He should have known. Hated it of all the mothers, his Gram would be the first to follow Meve. “One fine day.”
His father turned his face from the mountain then looked to Lamech. “Yes, Son, one fine day indeed, but until, we have much to do. I’m not getting any younger.”
“Oh, you’ll probably live to be a thousand.”
Again, he and his father fell in step together and walked in unison up the hill toward the big house Padam had started, but each of the firstborns had added to. Lamech’s suite needed so much work, but then his sister was only ten. He had plenty of time. Except, did he?
If what he’d been seeing in his dreams proved anything like what he needed to build, then he might need an extra thousand years to get ready. And he’d certainly need his father’s help, too. What a gargantuan task. He could hardly imagine the trees to be felled once they matured.
A rumbling boom froze Lamech. The mountain shook. Two long shofar blasts sounded louder than any horn he’d ever heard. A tiny spark of blue crackled around the peak then expanded wide over the summit, racing around, encircling the mountain top. He’d never seen anything like it.
“Is Grandfather there?”
Without taking his eyes from the erupting skies, Methuselah wagged his head. “I do not think so.”
A fiery horse burst through the blue circle of light. The steed tossed his mane, pulling a two-wheeled cart. Two songs sung by a thousand voices filled the valley. A chill raced up Lamech’s spine. His heartbeat quickened. What was happening? Never anything like that when Abba accepted his sacrifices the few times the lot fell to him.
“Hurry, Son.” Methuselah pulled up his tunic and ran. “It’s just as my dream. We must run.”
“What dream?” Lamech didn’t wait for an answer, but sprinted to catch up.
The horse and cart swooped downward. Six of the firstborns and their wives stood on the porch of the big house. The other sons and daughters ran in from all directions. Grandfather strolled to the clearing beyond Meve’s garden. He reached the grassy area just as Methuselah and Lamech neared.
Enoch nodded at his firstborn. “Blessings, my Son. Tell your mother that I love her.”
Methuselah reached out his hand, but the horse and fiery chariot swung low. His father rose from the ground as if a bird and was somehow lifted, as by the hand of God, caught up into the chariot. Just then Lamech’s mother ran from the house.
“Father!”
He waved from the blazing barrow. “Shalom, daughter. We will all be together again after the reconciliation.”
Away the stallion raced toward the crackling circle of blue light. The songs increased to deafening level, then once his grandfather disappeared and the circle closed, the quiet proved almost as deafening. Only his mother’s gentle sobs broke the silence.
His father knelt beside his wife and held her tight.
The war songs faded then vanished, but Adam continued to stare at the sky’s rend. An extra-large winged man he didn’t recognize floated downward through the circle. With only two easy flaps of his mighty wings the angel glided to the grass a few arms’ lengths away. From the being’s size and Abel’s description, he must be Abba’s messenger.
“Greetings.”
“Gabriel, right?”
“Yes.” The archangel smiled. “Enoch made it through. Evil could not waylay the fiery chariot.”
“Excellent. Will the builders return now?”
“No, Michael’s legions were decimated. Did you not hear?”
“I heard, but my ears….” Adam shrugged. “Might you ask Abba if I could watch the next battle, then perhaps I could see better with my poor ears.”
“I will repeat your request, but He knows already. Namrel says He knows our words even before we speak them—or think them.”
“Namrel’s the old cherub, right? The one who stayed with Abel so long ago?”
“First of the Cherubim, yes.” Gabriel spread his wings. “Peace be with you, first man. I must fly now. The Lord has need of this one.”
“Wait. What about the builders? When will they return? The babies are coming by the handfuls each day.”
The angel shrugged. “The watch should change soon. Perhaps they will come back then, but evil grows stronger. Violence and sin fills the world.” Gabriel pulled hard and shot skyward. Another flap and he disappeared through the portal. Two notes sounded, and the circle sparked and crackled as it closed.
Adam sank to his knees and bowed his head to the ground. “Oh, Abba, my sin…it multiplies and threatens to ruin the world You love so much.”
Chapter Two
Laurel stopped at the grand hall’s entrance. She hated these things, hated being a firstborn and that it meant her whole life would be arranged by traditions…worse, set up by a man she’d never even laid eyes on. She had her doubts if Adam and Eve ever even really existed. They could just be a story the grandfathers perpetuate.
Humph!
A hand landed on her shoulder, but she didn’t need to look to see who it belonged to.
“Daughter, take
you place.”
She smiled. “Yes, Mother. Did you ask, Father?”
“No, now sit down and be quiet. This Gathering of the Firstborns is a very special occasion. Show some respect for our fathers, and do not embarrass me.”
She made a face she intended only for the woman who made her life miserable, but caught her mother’s grandmother staring right at her. Perfect. She grinned at her, exhaled, then marched to her seat, the one she’d been sitting in every month for what, fifty-five of her sixty-five years?
Oh, Lord, how much longer? But as always, no answer came.
She smiled around the room at all the old people then eased down. She did love the way the wood fit her backside. She could sit there forever, especially if Grandfather Jared was telling one of his stories or.…
Grandfather Enos stood. “With my parents’ deaths, and the three latest couples who left us for the land of Nod, we are down to only forty-four souls, and none under the age of twenty.”
Laurel bit her tongue. If women were allowed to speak without being called on in these meetings, it would be the perfect time to get the grands’ aid in convincing her father of the errors of his ways. She and Lamech should have been married years ago, but no. Her father kept on forever saying ‘wait’.
After a too brief discussion of the lack of folks to help with the work here in the shadow of God’s Mountain, she lost interest. The crops’ conditions and how much grain remained in storage got talked to death.
She closed her eyes, and they droned on. One more wasted evening listening to boring people talk about tiresome topics.
One spent painting or figuring out a new pattern to weave wool would be much preferred. Anything else. A chair scooted back over the marble floor. She looked up.
Her father stood. “I have an announcement.”
Her pulse quickened. Maybe…could it be? But then the thought that he would probably only ask for more help in planting more trees dashed her hopes. What was the use? She’d never be a wife!
“Lamech’s suite nears completion.”
What did he just say? Her breath stopped. She straightened in her chair.
“After we finish this year’s planting, he and I will work on his addition to our home.” He looked right at her. “Come spring, Laurel, we will celebrate two becoming one. My children will wed.”
She gasped then jumped to her feet, ran to him, and hugged the old dear’s neck. Then she pulled her mother to her feet and hugged her. “Did you know?”
“Yes, dear Methuselah harbors no secrets from me. We’ve been speaking of it for a while.”
“You could have told me!” She found the man who would soon be one with her. “Oh, Lamech, I love you.”
Taking her hand, he lifted it to his lips then kissed it. “I love you, too. So much that it hurts sometimes.”
1043 Years from Creation
“Hold your head up, dear.”
Laurel complied, but if he did not come soon, she would surely faint or worse.
Her mother stepped back and smiled. “Perfect.” She looked around. Each lamp hanging on the bride’s pavilion posts glowed. “You filled all the lamps with plenty of oil?”
“Yes, mother, to the brims, and I bathed in Mother Eve’s pool, and I’m wearing her dress, and yes, yes, yes! Stop fretting. Everything is ready, if my brother will just come.”
Her mother laughed. “After tonight, he will no longer be only your brother.”
A little giggle escaped Laurel’s lips, hopefully lost in Mother’s mirth. Yes, Lamech would soon be her husband, except ‘if’ did not come soon. How many nights had she lost sleep waiting, waiting. Not his fault though, it was her father’s alone. Why couldn’t he just pronounce…? She put thoughts of malice away.
Besides, after waiting that long, what was another few turns of the waterwheel? So long as he came this night. She looked west. The last of the day’s light illuminated the firmament in golden pink and purple glows. It appeared to be painted in deeper shades with streaks of pure gold light than she’d ever seen.
Was Abba putting his seal of approval on their union? She loved the colors. Perhaps she could reproduce them in her next painting. The sunset would make a beautiful background.
She tried to recall, but could not remember the layout of her new suite. The one time she’d sneaked in fifty years ago when she was fifteen—the exact age of Meve when her twins were born—it hardly had any interior walls. But no matter of course. Her father would never even consider her being married at such a young and tender age.
“What are you grinning about?”
Laurel focused. “Oh, my suite and all the arguments Father and I have had over the years. Do you remember when I was fifteen?’
“How could I forget? I don’t think I had ever seen him so mad. He told me later about catching you sneaking into Lamech’s rooms. That was almost as bad as you standing up to him, a baby girl bowed up to her father. Disgraceful, and I care not to remember. It should not bring a smile to your lips either.”
She laughed. “Oh, don’t be such a prude, Mother. He definitely did not want to be reminded of Grandmother Eve’s age when she birthed the twins.”
“No, but bless our Almighty God, we learned from our parents’ mistake.”
Oh, so sure. She would have made a good mother at fifteen. Why would the Lord give her the moon cycle if she weren’t to reproduce? Why, she and Lamech would have so many babies now if only….
With that thought, another entered and crowded out the bliss of babies. So many of the people had succumbed to the snake’s song and fled from Adam’s Valley to dwell among the sons of Cain in the land of Nod. So many of her friends. She would never listen, much less entertain the lies of the evil one.
The shofar sounded, and stopped the beating of her heart. Could it be? Then the sweet notes of the flute drifted on even’s breeze. Laurel’s heartbeat resumed and thundered against her ribs. Her breath caught in her throat. She whirled to face her mother. “He’s coming.”
“Yes, dear.”
“Praise God!” She straightened her dress and fluffed her tresses that curled to her waist. “How do I look? Will he like the gardenias’ perfume? What about the orchids in my hair?”
“Beautiful. He will. They’re lovely. You are a perfect vision, my precious daughter.”
Up the hill, the first pair of lamps glowed as mere specks of light, but brightened as they came closer. The big house came to life, then the next set of lamps. A horse and rider appeared and continued down the lane. Her father had finally given his blessing. Oh, how she truly loved him and his wisdom—now that her wedding night had come.
The next set of lanterns brought up the rear. His groomsmen humming softly. Then he came clearly into view. So handsome. Her husband dressed in the same tunic the first man had worn on his and Meve’s wedding night. The cloth had been well cared for over the thousand years, only brought out for the firstborns’ marriages.
Laurel stepped onto the pavilion’s porch, the exact spot her mother stood waiting for her Methuselah. He led the horse. Stopping short, her father held out his hand toward her. She joined him, taking his offering, just as Lamech slipped down.
“My beautiful firstborn daughter. Laurel, the Lord could not find a helpmate suitable for Adam, so He caused a deep sleep to come over him and took a rib and from it. created the mother of us all. With my blessing, my precious, I give you now to my son as his wife in the tradition of the generations. I charge you, be Lamech’s faithful helpmate and bear him many sons. Are you so inclined, daughter?”
“Yes, Father. I receive your blessing and promise to walk in the ways you and my mother have taught. I will follow God and love my brother.” She looked at Lamech, whose eyes shone with tears. “I am honored to be his helpmate. All of my days on Earth and for Eternity, I am my beloved’s.”
He looked to his son. “Lamech, I give you my Laurel for a wife and bless your union. She is now bone of your bone and flesh of your flesh.”
“Thank you, Father. With me, she will forever know love and provision as our Creator blesses the labor of my hands. Before you and my grandfathers, I pledge to be a good husband to Laurel.”
Father put her hand into Lamech’s. “For this reason a man leaves his father and mother and clings to his wife.” He nodded toward her. “Kiss her, Son, she is now your wife.”
Then her husband pressed his lips against hers. She loved the taste of him. Joy overflowed her heart. He lifted her onto the horse, took the reins, and led her up the path to her new home. Along the way, the grands stood by their lamp poles, throwing rose petals and speaking blessings.
At the big house, instead of stopping at the door to her parents’ place, he kept going on around to her new suite of rooms he’d constructed on the back with a separate entrance.
Lifting her down, he held her to himself with her feet dangling and kissed her again. He pulled the bridle off the horse then swung her into arms as a mother carried her baby hardly believing she finally belonged to him.
Laughing with her, he carried her inside to her new life.
In his arms, she floated through the main room, barely noticing the small trees, ferns, and broadleaf plants that adorned it. A sweet fragrance filled the air, maybe lilac or lavender. Her heartbeat quickened, and she almost laughed aloud for joy when she spotted the first painting she’d ever done hanging on his—and now her—wall.
She kissed his neck. “You so honor me, husband. How did you come by that picture? I haven’t seen it in years.”
“Mother gave it to me. She’s had it put back for such a time as this.” He twirled her around then carried her down the hall. “Look what Grandfather Enos gave us for a wedding present.”
Her breath caught. She couldn’t believe the blessing! There on the wall of her bed chamber hung the portrait Padam himself had painted for Meve. Lion and Lamb in the garden—she couldn’t believe it—the first man’s masterpiece! “Oh, husband, it’s so wonderful. What a gift! How can we thank him enough?”
