A Passionate Hope--Hannah's Story

by Jill Eileen Smith

  “True.” Elkanah ate a few bites, focused on the meal. “And the young ones should give her a good reason to revive.”

  “If she lets herself care again.” Hannah watched the changing emotions on his face and wished she had some way to comfort him. But now that the immediate danger had passed, she had work to do on Samuel’s coat and things to gather for their trip to Shiloh.

  “Do you think . . . that is . . .” He paused, and a sick feeling settled in her middle. “I was thinking that perhaps now is not a good time to go to Shiloh.”

  “But—”

  He held up a hand. “I know we both want to see Samuel, but with Peninnah so ill . . . what if something happens to her while we are gone?”

  Hannah told her roiling emotions to calm. Elkanah was just being practical, as he always was. But the words she wanted to say would not come. A part of her wanted to lash out at the very idea. She had given up her son! She wanted to see him, not have to give up her visit because Elkanah’s other wife was grieving.

  Oh Adonai, forgive me. I know I am being selfish. Sometimes she found herself frustrated that Elkanah had any feelings for Peninnah at all. Especially after she had made Hannah’s life so miserable.

  “You are thinking something, beloved. Please share it with me.” He set aside his cup and took her hands, but she pulled them back and stood.

  “This is not something I can discuss easily, Elkanah. I think Peninnah could grieve or remain listless or face whatever ails her for months, and with your mother here, what can we possibly do? They would send for us if something serious happened. But to deny me time with my only child . . .” Her voice caught and she could not finish. She walked to the window and looked out at the deepening dusk.

  She heard Elkanah rise and felt him at her back. He placed both hands on her shoulders. “Then we will make the journey. It would be hard for me to switch at such a late date, and you are right, Peninnah is well cared for.”

  She turned to face him. “You truly do not mind? She is your wife, after all.”

  “As are you. And I want to see Samuel as much as you do.” He kissed her forehead. “I will check on Peninnah before we leave for Shiloh to confirm how she is doing, but if nothing has changed for the worse, then we will go.”

  “Thank you, my lord.” She lowered her gaze, feeling as though she had shamed him into the decision yet not wanting to retract her words.

  He kissed her then, fully this time, and she knew that his answer was what he had wanted to do all along.

  Nine Months Later

  Passover and the Feast of First Fruits came again, and Hannah counted the days, even as she put little finishing touches on the items she had made for Samuel. The robe and tunic had been ready for months, but she had decided to add other garments and even made him a small ephod as Eli had said she should.

  At last the day came when the family gathered. The sacrificial lamb was tied behind the cart pulled by the donkey, and the sheaves of barley and food they would need were piled in the cart. Hannah walked with Dana, her heart light, anxious to hold her boy close again.

  “I have not seen you quite so happy since your last visit here nine months ago,” Dana said, laughing. “No one would ever accuse you of not being a doting mother, even if you gave your son back to God.” She touched Hannah’s arm. “You are a good mother, even from a distance.”

  Hannah’s face flushed. “I doubt that. But thank you.” She walked on, forcing herself not to run the whole way to Shiloh.

  “I’m surprised Peninnah did not join us,” Dana said, interrupting her thoughts of seeing Samuel again. “She seemed better.”

  Hannah sighed. “She only acts that way around Elkanah, who probably told Tahath, but when I’ve stopped in or Galia has come by after a visit there, we agree that Peninnah is still listless and seems to be pining for the child she lost. It’s as though she doesn’t even see the six children who still need her.” The thought troubled her, and she did not want to feel such emotion on this day. She had suffered too long to have these few days of joy taken away, and yet . . . was she being unfair? Peninnah had suffered loss and seemed unable to pull herself out of the grief. Even her bitter barbs had ended, for she spoke little, as though she was pulling inside herself.

  “It can be hard to lose a child, though,” Dana said, surprising Hannah by defending the woman. “I mean, I never lost a child, but I lost my mother and that’s not easy. Especially when Peninnah had no one else she allowed close to her. I think she is incredibly sad.”

  Hannah nodded, the thought sobering. Was there anything she could do to help the situation? Nothing came to mind.

  “It’s almost as if your song last year was a prophecy from the Lord,” Dana said.

  “My song?”

  “The prayer you offered after you gave Samuel to Eli. You said, ‘She who has had many sons pines away.’ That seems to be what Peninnah is doing, doesn’t it?”

  Hannah felt a shiver rush through her. She was no prophet, and she certainly had not aimed those words at Peninnah. She’d had a general sense of the barren woman finally feeling gratified, especially over everyone who made her feel she was “less than” because God had chosen not to give her children for so long.

  If only He would see fit to give me more. The longing had begun since their last visit and since Peninnah’s children did not seem to need her.

  “She does seem that way, but my prayer was no prophecy, Dana. I was simply offering praise to Adonai.” Or was it a prophecy?

  “Well, it seemed like such to all of us there. I just never expected Peninnah to mimic the words so truly.”

  Hannah nodded, feeling a sense of guilt for having uttered words that had hurt her rival. For whatever trouble Peninnah had shown her over the years, she did not wish harm on the woman. And yet she had stayed home and daily sat in her room pining away as though life had no use or meaning to her anymore.

  Oh Adonai, please help her. It was the only prayer Hannah could utter and mean, for she was at a loss as to how anyone else could reach Peninnah.

  The next day as they arrived in Shiloh, Hannah and Elkanah set up camp and took the lamb to the altar for sacrifice. Forgive me for any wrong thoughts or deeds, Adonai, Hannah prayed as the lamb took her place on God’s altar, appeasing His wrath over all sin. Though this was not the Day of Atonement but a happier Passover and Feast of First Fruits, Hannah still prayed whenever an animal gave its life for hers. Guilt offering or not, she knew none of them were ever truly free of guilt or sin. The blood covered their sin in God’s eyes and allowed Him to forgive. And someday God would make a way to deal with sin permanently, but for now, Hannah was grateful for temporary forgiveness.

  The deed completed, Hannah took Elkanah’s hand and pulled him toward Eli, where Samuel stood at his side.

  Elkanah laughed. “A little anxious, my love?”

  She smiled at him. Nothing on earth made her quite as happy as her son, though she would not tell Elkanah such a thing. She loved her husband, heart and soul, but the bond with Samuel was different. One she would never outlive.

  They reached the place where Eli sat and greeted him. Hannah bent to give Samuel a fierce hug and held him for a few moments.

  She heard Eli and Elkanah talking but paid no heed until Eli’s tone changed. He cleared his throat and she turned to look at him, her arm still around Samuel.

  “May the Lord give you children by this woman to take the place of the one she prayed for and gave to the Lord,” Eli said to Elkanah. “Your son is a great blessing to me, and I pray often that God will bless your wife with more sons like him, to be a blessing to both of you.”

  “Thank you, my lord,” Elkanah said, then turned to hug his son.

  Hannah stared at Eli a moment, her heart stirring within her. Eli had prayed for her and blessed her.

  Dana was right. There would be more children. She knew it as well as she had known she would give birth after her vow to the Lord. Not immediately, of course, but in time. She
would raise a family to love Adonai and guide them to keep His ways. But for now, she would love Samuel in the few days they had with him.

  And as they spent time together, she could not keep her heart from singing.

  39

  Eleven Years Later

  Hannah rubbed her protruding middle, grateful for the kick of the child beneath her hand. Would the child be born healthy as the others had been? A sense of fear often accompanied the thought. She was so much older now than when Samuel was born. Seventeen years. How was it possible that so much time had passed since that glorious day? Her son was such a fine man now, still serving with Eli in Shiloh. Though from all that she had heard, things there were worse than they had ever been.

  “May I join you?” Elkanah’s voice startled her from her thoughts. She looked up at him and smiled.

  “I fear you catch me at a lazy time, beloved. I should be spinning or weaving, but the air is so fresh and the babe so active. I needed to sit for a while.” She searched his face, now lined, the hair on his head and in his beard streaked with gray. “How did we get to this place?” The question was one she had long pondered, but suddenly seeing Elkanah looking older and feeling the aches of age herself, she wondered if she would live long enough to raise these children God had given.

  Elkanah sat beside her and cupped a hand over her middle, smiling at the baby’s kick. “We got to this place by trusting the Lord,” he said, his gaze thoughtful. “I never would have imagined He would give us so many children at this stage in our lives.”

  She smiled for the joy of his presence, for the ability to do so with peace in knowing all was well. At least she hoped so. Please, Adonai, let all remain well.

  “Chayim and Doron and Maor seem to love caring for the sheep, though I think Doron is going to be our farmer, as he loves to watch the plants and help with placing the seeds. He always tells me when he prays for rain or sees too many insects eating the crops.” Elkanah rubbed a hand along his neck. “Eitan doesn’t seem to mind them tagging along, though I think at first he resented them. He likes to do things his way, that boy.”

  “He is a boy no longer, my love. Peninnah’s sons are grown men with wives, remember.”

  The realization only added to the knowledge that life had come to her in such a backward way. Her sons should be the ones grown by now, but here she was at fifty-four years old and about to bear a sixth child while her youngest, Tehila, was barely three. She had nursed two children at once for nearly ten years and weaned Tehila earlier than she’d planned when she discovered she was yet again carrying a child. That she could beget while she nursed was a mystery, as it was not the normal pattern of things for most women, though Peninnah seemed to also be an exception. And God had been more than gracious in His answer to Eli’s blessing.

  “Sometimes it is hard to believe that you are the one with the young children,” Elkanah said, accepting a drink from Hannah’s new maid, Rona. “So much has happened in these passing years.” He sipped, then gave a deep sigh.

  “Is there news from Shiloh?” Elkanah had gone faithfully for Samuel’s sake even when she was confined at home. It was her one regret that she saw so little now of her oldest son.

  Elkanah rubbed the back of his neck. “Samuel speaks of judgment coming,” he said, his gaze fixed on hers. “Of course, we know that God now speaks to him, but Samuel believes the prophecy against Eli’s house will soon be fulfilled.”

  “Hophni and Phinehas will die soon then.” She shivered at the very thought, as she often did when she recalled what Samuel had told his father, that God would kill both priests for their corruption on the same day.

  “Yes.”

  “I fear for Raziela and Irit. If Irit is indeed pregnant again, and she as old as I am, things may not go well for her.” She took his hand and squeezed. “I wish we could help them.”

  “I fear that is not our problem to fix, beloved.” He kissed her fingers and then intertwined their hands.

  “I wonder how Eli will take it when it happens.” The man was so old, in his late nineties, and could barely see.

  “Probably as well as you or I would if something devastating were to happen to one of us.” Elkanah’s expression grew thoughtful. “Samuel is already assuming the priestly duties, and God is raising him up to lead.”

  Hannah nodded. “Yes.” She sighed. “I can’t say I am sorry for my vow, but I do miss him.”

  “I know you do. You would not be a loving mother if you did not.”

  She looked at him more closely, saw the strain in his eyes. “Tell me, my husband, why are you here with me in the middle of the day? You are feeling well, yes?”

  He looked beyond her, and her heart felt a kick that wasn’t the babe.

  “Elkanah?”

  He shook himself. “Do not fret, beloved. I am well. I just grow a little more tired of late. And I wanted to spend some time with you before this next little one takes you away from me.” Though his smile reached his eyes, she was not sure she believed he was truly all right.

  “I wonder,” he said a moment later, before she could fret over him, “whether you would consider something.”

  “That depends on what I am to consider.” She gave him a wary look.

  “Eitan tells me that his mother is not well.” He paused. “Even his wife and his brothers’ wives cannot seem to rouse her from the feelings of sadness she has carried these many years. I had thought when the girls began to beget children that it would give her purpose again as it did my mother—Adonai’s rest be upon her—and as it did Yafa. Yet Peninnah does little but sit most of the day. The girls do most of the work, she has no friends, and she seems so lost.”

  “Peninnah has pushed most people away, my love. You know this.”

  Elkanah sighed, the sound defeated. “I know. And I have tried, truly I have. I fear it is my fault because I could never give her the one thing she asked for.”

  “Your love.”

  He nodded. “I guess I was just not made to love two women. You have always been my only love, Hannah.”

  She smiled and squeezed his hand again. “And you mine.”

  They stared at each other in amiable silence a moment. Hannah felt the babe kick, and she sensed this child, likely her last, might have a gifted purpose much like Samuel’s, only in a more personal way. But what? She could not imagine. She only wanted the child to be safely born.

  “So what am I to consider?” Despite his lengthy explanation, she was not sure what he was asking her.

  “I guess I was wondering if there will ever be peace between the two of you. If there was something you might say to her, might do . . .”

  “You mean like offering to let her have all the time she wants with you? That is the only thing I can think that might appease her, beloved. She wants you, not me. I daresay she probably wishes I would disappear from her life. Then she could have you uncontested, as Leah finally had Jacob.” The thought brought another tick of worry to her heart. Would she survive this birth? Would God bless Peninnah in the end by taking Hannah to be with Him?

  Oh Adonai, I love You, but I do not want Peninnah raising my children.

  “No, no. I do not want to give in to her demands. I want you. You’ve always known that.” He sipped from the cup again and glanced heavenward. “I wish life had been easier for us.”

  “Life is never easy,” she said, sobering. Too many losses had accompanied the joy of the past ten years. The loss of both sets of parents. Samuel’s absence and her inability to visit him as often as she once did. Dealing with Peninnah’s spoiled girls because their mother seemed incapable of training them.

  “But there is good too,” she added, not wanting to feel sad as Peninnah always did. Especially during Elkanah’s surprise visit. “Nava has had three sons, and your older boys have made you a grandfather.”

  Elkanah smiled. “Yes, those are good things. And I am sorry to have brought up Peninnah. I just grow weary of trying to figure out what to do with her. I wish—�
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  “Do not regret the past, beloved. You cannot go back and change what is. She gave you six wonderful children, and you are about to have your twelfth child. There is much to rejoice in.”

  He smiled. “We are back to the place where we were when I first met you. You always remind me of the joy, and that makes me want to worship Adonai for His goodness.”

  “He has been good to us.”

  “Especially since He gave us Samuel to be the leader Hophni and Phinehas are not.” The comment brought a telltale frown to his face. “I do not envy Samuel having to deal with the fallout once the prophecy against Eli’s house comes true. I may have to go to Shiloh to help him.”

  “As I would expect you to.”

  “I don’t want to miss this little one’s birth,” he said.

  “You must do what is best for the country, Elkanah. You can bless our child when you return.”

  He nodded. “Tahath and I are planning to go to Shiloh tomorrow.”

  “And you didn’t tell me this at the first?” It wasn’t like him to skirt around a problem. “Tell me what is really wrong, Elkanah.”

  “There are rumors of war with the Philistines. I fear that the war could be part of the prophecy, and I want to be there for Samuel.” He cupped her cheek. “You understand, don’t you?”

  “Of course. I would want you there for our son.” The sudden fear in her heart was not for herself but for him. “Tell me you will not go to battle against the Philistines no matter what happens.”

  “I will not go to battle against the Philistines.” He stood and helped her up. “But I do not know how bad things will get. Samuel is still young, and Eli is too old to guide him any longer.”

  “Of course you must go. Samuel needs his father. And do not worry about me. I have Dana to help me deliver. And your other sisters-in-law if I need them.”

  He kissed her and she returned the kiss. “Just promise me that you will be safe.” He held her close. “By God’s grace, I will do all that I can to stay safe as well. And while I am gone, be extra cautious of strangers. I’ve asked Eitan to watch over your house and keep the boys with you until I return.”