by Caryl McAdoo
What about Centurion, who called himself Friend? Do you believe that angels come to earth and appear as men to help those God sends them to?
This, too, was mentioned in Volume One, A Little Lower Than the Angels when Eve gives birth and God sends help. I know it doesn’t relate, but I have a mid-grade dystopian trilogy The King’s Highway, book one Starfish Prime, not published yet, but in it an angel ‘unaware’ plays a big part, and God’s given me a song titled Angels Unaware that I can’t help but think of. And here’s the scriptural reference: Hebrews 13:2 Be not forgetful to entertain strangers: for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.
The lyrics to that new song: Angels unaware, you may never know that they are there, but they come to help you on the path that you should go. And I know God sends His angels unaware. 92nd verse) When you are afraid, remember that God’s love will never fade. He will never leave you or forsake you, this is true. And I do believe in angels unaware. (chorus) He can count the stars. He hung Jupiter and Mars. He made every bird and butterfly as different as you and I. (3rd verse) You are His desire, He longs for you, to set your heart on fire, so that you may live your life in His peace and joy and love, from above, God sends His angels unaware.
And just in case, I haven’t provided enough scriptural evidences to prove my case…
Then I stand on this wonderful scripture in Ecclesiastes: The thing that hath been, it is that which shall be; and that which is done is that which shall be done: and there is no new thing under the sun. Ecclesiastes 1:9
And this one I love: Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and cometh down from the Father of lights, with whom is no variableness, neither shadow of turning. James 1:17
To whet your appetite for
The Generations’ next volume coming this November!
Children of Eber
Chapter One
The caravan stopped short of the well. The man who sat the lead camel touched his forehead then brought his hand toward the trough. “Our beasts need water. What’s your price?”
“Freely given, freely receive.”
“Blessings on you and on your master’s house.”
His grandson glanced over his shoulder then faced the traveler and smiled. “Sir, I have no master save the Lord.”
Eber motioned for the others to return to work and stepped from the shadows of the palm grove. “From where have you come?”
“Ur.”
“Is all well?”
“Peace for now, but…” The man shook his head. “The season approaches when kings go to war.”
While the dromedaries sated their thirst, the visitor told Eber and his grandson Reu of raids, tribal clashes, and rumors of same. Before he took his leave, he passed on a tidbit that propelled Eber up the hill to his home. The grand rock and brick palace came into view, and as always, its beauty struck him.
A question popped into his mind. One he had no answer for.
How could anyone so privileged to add his suite to such a home choose to leave?
Wandering though the ancient domicile, Eber found the patriarch in the sunroom—that used to be Father Noah’s—working on a painting of the brilliant colors arced across the cloudy sky at storm’s end, the token of God’s covenant; His promise never to destroy the world again by flood waters.
He loved the presence of Lion and Lamb and that the one found righteous of God had lifted hands, praising the Creator. For salvation? And perhaps for His faithfulness. Certainly for His everlasting, never ending love.
Stepping inside, he waited silently until his double great-grandfather took notice.
“Eber. How is the date harvest coming?”
“Good, Father. We’ll have all we need plus plenty to trade.”
“Excellent.”
“A caravan traveled through today. The headman brought news of Ur.”
“Do they still war with the Hamites?”
“Yes, sir, some. But this intrigued me more; he claimed the city is all abuzz about triplets born to Terah.”
Shem dipped his brush in linseed oil, wrapped it in a cheese cloth, then faced the younger man. “Three? Did our visitor give their names?”
“Abram, Nahor and Haran.”
“By his wife’s sister?”
“No. The man said Judith bore them. They marvel how a woman her age could have even one child, but three—a wonder.”
A chuckle escaped. “She isn’t old, not even a hundred yet if memory serves.”
“Sixty-nine, and Terah is seventy.”
“See? What did I say? He didn’t have to take his youngest sister to wife, or leave Noah’s Valley, but each makes his own choices. The Lord works in mysterious ways.”
“Well said. Reu brought a basket of dates to the house. I told him to place them in the larder.”
“If you see Jemri, tell her to bring a bowl of them here.” He winked. “Guess someone should check their sweetness. And share the news of the births with Arphaxad. Give him the boys’ names, and he’ll record them along with the year. Two thousand eight… Time marches on indeed.”
“Yes, sir.” His young son turned.
“Did the man say for certain Judith bore Abram first?”
Eber looked back and nodded. “I asked that he repeat it for the chronicles.”
Once alone again, Shem worked on his painting as he thought of the newest additions to his family. Triplets. The first set he knew of this side of the flood. He tired of daubing colored oil onto the canvas, so cleaned his mother’s brushes and put them away.
Still no sweet dates. He went to find his wife.
If his nose didn’t lie, someone baked sweetbread.
To his delight, Jemri drew a second loaf from the oven as he entered the kitchen. The first, already removed from the pan, cooled on a rack. Father Noah and Mother Hattimas certainly planned the hub of the dwelling well.
Even with half a dozen daughters scurrying around, chopping, washing, grinding, mixing, and laughing, more than enough room.
His beauty hadn’t detected him, so he slipped in behind her and kissed her neck.
She spun. “Shem! What are you doing in here? I thought you’d be painting until dinner at least. Was that Eber I heard earlier?”
“It was. I’d told him to tell you to bring a bowl of dates, but evidently he didn’t see you on his way out.”
“I’m sorry, dear.”
“No need.” Drawing her to himself, he held her close and rubbed her back. “The wonderful aroma you’ve created brought me to your domain.”
“So here you are. Followed your nose as usual. I should have known. So, what did our grandson allow?”
“He spoke of a traveler who brought news of Terah and Judith.”
“Has she murdered the letch?”
“No, birthed him triplets instead. All sons.”
She backed away. “Triplets?” Then she leaned in as if no one else should hear her speculation. “Judith? Was he certain? Are we sure it wasn’t Zillah?”
“Eber said so. The man reported a bit of Ur’s gossip. Seems the whole city is amazed that someone so old could birth even one, but three. They’re calling it a miracle.”
He wife closed her eyes and smiled. “Has no one taught them of Hattimas birthing you and your brothers after more than four hundred years barren?”
“Apparently not. Such a disappointment that Terah chose to break from our customs and take a second wife as the heathen do.”
“It is. So what do you think it means? Zillah remains childless while her older sister delivers the first set of triplets this side of the flood—at least that we’ve heard of.”
“Who can know or discern its purpose under heaven? I’m unsure, but perhaps Abba has shown Eber. He may know.”
“Will Salah’s son truly be the next patriarch?”
“I’ve seen it in my dreams, like it had already happened. Put aside his relationship with the Almighty, Eber is more skilled than even Arphaxad. With God speaking less and
less, I hesitate to discount dreams.”
“I’m sure you’re correct.” She stepped in close and kissed him lightly. “But no one, my love, is more skilled than you.”
He kissed her back amidst a twitter of giggles, then the sweetbread caught his eye. “Have we honey?”
“Of course, and also cane sugar if you prefer.”
After two much-too-thinly-carved slices sat on a plate before him, he shared his heart with his wife. “Prefer? What I want more is for Terah to return from Ur and –”
“And what?” She drew back, her eyes widened. “Put Zillah away? She’s innocent in his…his…I don’t even know what to call it.”
“Are you sure the girl is so blameless? I am not.”
“Well, she is his wife now, no matter what part she might have played in his decision. He’s the one who took her to wed.” Her countenance fell from anger to sympathy. “Poor Judith. And Zillah. You know he can’t come home, not after what he’s done.”
Shem had to agree. But still, he longed for the boy’s return. He hated it when any of his line left or died, especially firstborns. They were special, though why, he wasn’t sure.
In the shadows of his dreams, though, the truth hid, waiting for the fullness of time.
Movement pulled Abram from his scroll. Sarai stood just outside the room’s archway, peeking around the corner. His gaze returned to his studies. “Where is your mother?”
“Gone to the market with yours. What are you doing?”
“Who’s tending you?”
“My nurse, but she has fallen asleep mid-stich.” The girl leaned in so that her face almost entered into the room. “Brother, what’s a Hebrew?”
Light filtered in through the high window, illuminating the dancing particles that twirled in the seemingly still air between his little sister and himself. Releasing his hold, he let the scroll roll itself up.
Until she left, he’d get no studying done, so the hieroglyphics would have to wait. “Us. It means the children of Eber. He is our father, so we are Hebrews.”
Her little nose wrinkled. “But Terah is our father. We’re his children. I know this much for truth, but who is Eber? I don’t know him. Do you? How can we have two fathers?”
“Listen, Sarai. Our father’s father was Nahor, and his Serug, and his Reu and his Peleg, and his Eber. Our ancestors go all the way back to Shem, the youngest son of Noah, but…”
Her palm faced him, and she stepped out, full into the opening. “Wait! Tell me those names again. I got lost, and I want to remember because they’re important, aren’t they?”
“Don’t worry.” How did such a small girl get so bold as to hush her older brother? Though she lacked proper respect, he enjoyed her passion. “You have no need, for I know them.”
Her countenance fell, and she swiped at a loose strand of her dark hair fallen out of her braid. Her mother’s beauty marked the child even at her young age.
“It’s alright. I had the same trouble remembering when I was your age, too.”
“Why is everyone mad at Haran?”
He kept his face straight. His little sister didn’t miss much. “Perhaps you should ask your mother.”
“I already did. And Mama Judith also, but no one will tell me. I want you to because you know everything.”
The little flatterer. He should tell her to scat, but her declaration did swell his chest a bit. “Well, have you ever disobeyed?”
Her face turned left then circled into a wary nod. She smiled. “Haven’t you?”
“Wait, I’m asking the questions here.”
The cheerful giggle filled the drab room with music. “You are not! I came with my question. You are the answerer.”
“I’m trying to explain something, if you don’t care to listen and answer me, little one, then skip away and find a cat to play with. Leave me be back to my studies.”
“No, wait! I’m sorry. Why did you want to know whether or not I was ever bad? I didn’t do anything to Haran. He’s mean.”
“Awe, sometimes too gruff maybe, but I wouldn’t call him mean. Anyway, my brother disobeyed father, and.…” How could he explain it to a six-year-old without mentioning the ways of life?
Hopefully, one of the mothers or her nurse or someone else would handle that task before their wedding night.
Praise God’s Holy Name that would not be for many years. Time would give her the opportunity to learn better manners, too. Holding her tongue and showing respect.
“And what? What did our brother do? And he is my brother, too, just like you. Although I do not like him as much. He yanks my braid when no one’s looking and has stuck his big foot out and tripped me many times.”
“I can hardly believe that.”
“It’s true, I swear it is!” She leaned her back on the door’s jam and stared up at the other side. Her profile against the sun’s brightness in the hall almost took his breath. Beautiful didn’t say enough.
When she grew up, she would be a wonderful wife for him. The gods blessed him indeed.
“What Haran did is not for me to say. Perhaps you should wake up your nurse. Our mothers don’t stay too long at the market, and you don’t want her to get in trouble with them.”
“But you know, so don’t be a stingy gut. Share with me. I know you do!”
“So?”
“If you don’t tell me, then you’re as mean as…as…a stubborn donkey!”
Unable for him to control, laughter rolled from the depths of his belly.
“What are you laughing about?” She faced him and stomped her foot with her hands on both hips.
“I’m sorry. Not at you, Sarai, but what you said. Comparing me to a donkey, calling me stingy…your favorite brother? How do you think that makes me feel?”
“You should tell me what I want to know! We shouldn’t have secrets from each other! I tell you everything!”
Indeed she did, the little magpie. “I already said. It is not for me to inform you, not my place at all. Some things a young lady such as yourself need not know. I didn’t intend to hurt you by laughing. Will you forgive me?”
“Of course. I always will. I love you, Abram. Can I have a hug?”
“No. We are not allowed in the same room alone.”
“Stupid rule. If we’re going to marry when I grow up, why shouldn’t we hug? Mother and Daddy hug all the time.”
“Yes. But until you are older, we will obey our father.” He waved her away. “Now go.” But she didn’t seem too interested in minding and ignored his command.
“What’s wrong with a Hamite? You can tell me that, can’t you?”
“Nothing. They’re children of Noah, same as us. From Ham’s lineage instead of Shem’s. That’s all.”
“Nina, that’s my newest nurse, she always spits whenever she says it. Now…that orange-haired slave girl…you know…the one Haran bought…she’s a Hamite, right?”
Oh Lord, save me from this one. She’s too smart for her own good—and mine.
“Yes, Sarai, she is a daughter of Ham.”
“Is she the reason why father is mad at Haran?”
He stood and started for her. “Where is your nurse?”
Sarai stuck her tongue out at him then ran toward the woman’s quarters, her long braids bouncing. Once gone, Abram allowed himself a smile then sat back down, unrolled the scroll, and concentrated again on his studies.
With only two more days to understand the picture language before he returned to the fields, he didn’t need any interruptions. Still, he loved the precociousness of his little sister.
Shame he could only spend a third of his days with the scrolls. He much preferred learning over herding the dumb sheep.
Sarai loved Milcah, her baby niece delivered half a year later by her brother’s Hamite orange-haired slave, but never understood her father’s displeasure with his youngest son’s baby girl.
By Lot’s arrival, Haran’s third child with the dark skinned beauty, Sarai knew full well exactly what w
as happening.
No thanks to her or Abram’s mother!
If not for her nurse, no one would ever have enlightened her on the ways of life and love.
But neither the old woman nor the mothers could explain why Sarai was being robbed. Who cared that Father Eber and half the inhabitants of Noah’s Valley were coming to Ur?
Not her. Not in the least.
Other Titles by Caryl McAdoo
…with Five-Star Reviews
The Generations Biblical fiction
..for A Little Lower Than the Angels
COMING SOON in AUDIO!
Caryl McAdoo used her research and knowledge of biblical scripture combined with an incredible imagination as a foundation to fill in the gaps of the story of Adam and Eve and their children. Caught up in the story from page one to the ending, I particularly appreciated the "Search the Scriptures" section at the end which explains some of the Biblical clues for this work of fiction. I loved it and highly recommend it.
--Judy Levine, an Arizona reader
If you love the stories of the Bible, if you are new to reading the Bible, or a seasoned expert looking to expand on the stories surrounding the creation of the human race--this story is the perfect place to start. It takes you through the lives of Adam and Eve, and Cain and Abel, and how the choices they each willfully made affected the rest of their lives.
This story is a triumph for Biblical fiction: it gets everything right, while adding to the story to allow the reader to experience what the early Christians went through for and because of their faith.
I do not think Caryl McAdoo could write the remaining books of this series fast enough for me! --Kathy Watts, a Tennessee reader
...for Then the Deluge Comes
If the books still to follow are as good as Volume 2 in the series and the first one, it’s going to be an incredible series. The author has a way of breathing life and emotions into the characters that made me feel like I was on the sidelines watching their stories unfold. This is some of the best Biblical fiction that I have read and I look forward to the rest of the series. I was furnished with an e-copy of the book in return for an honest review.
