Love Amid the Ashes

by Mesu Andrews

  Aban was anxious to welcome Job into his home, assuring his friend he cared nothing about the odor or remaining worm infestation. “Fleeting afflictions, my friend!” Aban raved. “Look how El Shaddai has healed you already! In no time you will be herding your own flocks and plowing fields with your own oxen.” But after all the men had left the mountaintop tent, Dinah and Nogahla remained, drying Job’s tears and bandaging his wounds.

  “I have no right to mourn,” he told Dinah one evening as the three watched the sky change from orange to red to purple. “Look at the miracles God has worked on my behalf.” His face stretched into a mask of false strength, fighting the tears that would aid his healing.

  Dinah placed a single finger under his chin and turned his gaze toward her. It was the first time she’d touched him without a bandage or herb. “Remember your words, my friend.” Her voice quivered as she spoke. “‘Naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked I will depart. Yahweh gave and Yahweh has taken away; may the name of Yahweh be praised.’ You mourned that night the tragedies struck, but your tears were shed in complete surrender.” She looked deeply into his eyes. “I believe trusting Yahweh with our tears is our greatest offering.”

  The floodgates of his tears burst free, and Nogahla placed a comforting hand on his newly healed shoulder. But Dinah released his chin, and her hand fell limply to her lap. One of his tears wetted her wrist in the glimmering sunset.

  And then she realized it. I love you, Job. Her cheeks burned at the thought. Her own tears fell, cool streams across fiery beds of self-doubt. Was she betraying Sitis? How would Nogahla feel about this—Elihu, Aban, Nada? Then Dinah remembered Sitis—her friend, Job’s wife, whom they both loved with devotion. No, Sitis, my friend. You know my feelings for your husband have always been pure. Sitis wouldn’t want to see her husband’s heart broken by loneliness for the rest of his life.

  Dinah looked into Job’s grief-stricken face and ached to heal more than his outer wounds. Their eyes met for just a moment, and renewed weeping overtook him. This man had faced tragedy and death, yet Yahweh prevailed in his life. How could she ever love another man after loving a man like Job?

  But the next realization stole her breath as if she had fallen with a thud from a runaway camel. A man like Job could never love a woman like me.

  Dinah was summoned back to the morning’s sacrifice by a familiar voice. “Mistress?” Nogahla leaned close, whispering. “Are you crying for the lamb?”

  Dinah looked up and realized the lamb had almost completely burned away. She wiped tears without realizing she had shed them. What is wrong with me today?

  “Abba, look!” Elihu rose to his feet, his hands still dripping with sacrificial blood. The first rays of dawn revealed a distant line of caravans converging on Uz from both north and south, extending as far as the eye could see.

  The elders stood, as did Aban. “I don’t think it’s an army,” Bildad said. “I see too many women and children on donkeys for a military attack, and I see a great number of flocks and herds.”

  “Then what could it be?” Elihu was breathless, fear evident in his voice.

  “When Sayyid and Bela paid the Chaldeans to attack Job’s camels and servants, they came disguised as a caravan.” Aban glanced at his sandals, and Dinah recognized shame clawing at the integrity Yahweh was crafting in the man.

  “Now is not the time to consider the past,” Job said softly.

  Offering a grateful nod, Aban turned to Bildad and Eliphaz. “Gather your armies, and I’ll muster my troops. If the caravans have come for battle, we must stop them before they enter the siq.” Elihu ran ahead of the elders to the tower stairs, offering help to each man as he descended.

  Dinah heard a whine beside her and turned to find Nogahla’s face a mask of terror. “No crying!” Dinah shouted, relying on her traditional command. It had worked before, but today the words carried no weight.

  Aban nudged Dinah aside and knelt before his beloved Cushite. “Nogahla, listen to me. I’ll return as quickly as I can, but you and Dinah must remain on the mountain with Job. I’ll send servants by way of the mountain path with camels and a litter on which to carry him.” Looking up at Dinah, he said, “You must promise that you’ll escape at the first sign of battle. Do you understand?”

  Dinah nodded soberly and then retreated to the carved stone bench alone, heart pounding, watching Aban comfort Nogahla. Her heart yearned to be comforted too. If she approached Job, would he hold her and speak reassuringly as Aban did to Nogahla? When her gaze met Job’s, she found him staring at her. As if reading her thoughts, he turned away quickly, his neck flushing as red as the canyon’s mud river.

  The sting of rejection pierced her. Why can’t you love me? she thought.

  Dinah leapt to her feet. “I’m going with you, Aban!” she shouted, startling everyone including herself.

  “You can’t go with me.” He grimaced as if she had suggested he swallow fish eyes.

  She started toward the stairs, tears already brimming on her lashes. “I can ride a camel as well as any of your soldiers and lead two beasts on a bridle.”

  “Dinah! Come back here!” Aban’s demands were soon drowned out by the dark, close walls of the tower stairway, but another more daunting voice followed.

  “Mistress, you cannot run away from me. Tell me why your frown has now turned to tears.”

  Servants cleared away scraps and dirty dishes from the midday meal while Job sat idly in Aban’s grand banquet hall, listening to another embellished story from one of his Edomite cousins. The grandson of his uncle’s firstborn had been gushing feats of valor since he’d arrived with the first caravans six weeks ago. “The lion rushed at me from behind the boulder, and . . .”

  Smiling patiently at the windbag, Job scanned the men and women seated at the finely carved tables, hoping to find a genuine smile amid the milieu of forced merriment. Bildad and Zophar had left two weeks ago to tend business and household concerns, and Eliphaz, Elihu, and Aban often avoided larger gatherings. The steady patter of rain kept rhythm with the incessant drumming of his cousin’s endless stories. Job nodded occasionally when the younger man drew a breath, but he used these moments to ponder all that weighed heavy on his heart.

  When Job had first glimpsed the caravans, he too had been concerned about imminent danger. He had watched Aban soothe Nogahla’s fears but became as awkward as a camel in sandals when Dinah looked in his direction. He wanted to comfort her, but he felt more than that. For the first time in his life, he yearned to hold a woman other than his Sitis. Without warning, passions rushed in like a flood. Guilt said that he was betraying Sitis’s memory by yearning for another so soon. Humiliation told him that Dinah would be repulsed by his embrace. Grief reminded Job that he missed Sitis’s voice, her touch, her laugh. Fear returned his thoughts to the invading caravans after Dinah fled down the tower stairs in tears.

  When the caravans arrived, full of Job’s Edomite family and friends, his life altered dramatically. Joyful descendants of Esau offered gifts of grain, silver kesitahs, and gold rings in celebration of God’s miraculous works. Job knew he should rejoice at the encouragement and divine restoration of his wealth, but Dinah’s hysterical flight from the altar haunted him.

  The caravans continued their relentless arrivals and blessing, but Job’s emotions raged just as insistently. When a full moon had passed and still bands of Edomites clogged the trading thoroughfares of Uz, Job asked Dinah and Nogahla to journey with him to Widow Orma’s cave. “Master Job,” the precious Cushite had said, “perhaps your body has healed enough to make this journey, but has your heart healed enough?”

  Job wiped his face as if he could wipe away the memory and then was rudely jolted back to the present by his cousin’s bawdy laughter. “What’s the matter, Job? Can’t you take a story with a little blood and guts?” The man slapped him on the shoulder. “Well, did I ever tell you about the time I went down to Egypt to hunt a behemoth . . .”

  Job raised both eye
brows, feigning interest. As long as his blustering cousin spewed stories, Job didn’t have to conjure polite conversation. Perhaps a few more hours of pondering could smooth the frayed edges of his heart.

  His thoughts wandered back to Sitis’s grave—the visit two weeks ago. His bumpy ride on the litter behind Aban’s exquisite dapple gray stallion. The curious glances of onlookers as Dinah and Nogahla steered the beast onto the secret pathway through the siq. His first glimpse of the seemingly impregnable mountain path leading to Widow Orma’s cave.

  “Please, Job, be careful,” Dinah had said to him, offering her hand as he conquered the final steps on the rocky path. “Though your strength is returning, this is still a hard climb.”

  But he had done it. The muscles in his legs were on fire and sweat dripped into his eyes. His arms shook and he could hear his heartbeat like a horse race in his ears, but it felt good. “I’m fine,” he said, hoping she wouldn’t notice his weakness.

  “Master Job, listen to Mistress Dinah!” Nogahla stood at the cave entrance, her finger bobbing like a scolding ima. “Slow down. We did not bring burial herbs to wrap your body and lay you next to Mistress Sitis!”

  “Nogahla!” Dinah’s disapproving gaze and one-word censure was enough to silence their little friend.

  Nogahla’s features fell, but Job tried to lift her heart. “Not long ago, I would have willingly let you lay me in the cave beside Sitis,” he said. Turning to Dinah, he tried to steady his breathing and bridle his emotions. “Now I believe Yahweh has something planned for each one of us.” Jacob’s beautiful daughter turned away, as had become her custom since that morning on the mountaintop, and Job’s heart plummeted.

  Stepping toward the cave entrance, he greeted two soldiers from Aban’s household, stationed there to prevent grave robbery. The guards had already staved off one attempt by bandits who had mistakenly believed Sitis was buried with pagan offerings. Job glanced just above the curved doorway, noting a small fissure in the red cliff where a sheer scrap of purple linen swayed in the breeze. He tried to reach it, but one of the soldiers stopped him.

  “Master Job, if you don’t mind.” The young man’s cheeks colored as if he was embarrassed. “My partner and I have been watching the female hoopoe in her nest.” He cleared his throat, straightened his spine, and adjusted his leather belt. Job hid a grin. The young man apparently needed a better-fitted uniform to hide his tenderness. “Watching the silly creature keeps us alert during our long hours on duty.”

  Oop-oop-oop. Job’s heart stopped at the sight and sound of the lovely pink-and-black-crested bird fluttering to its cliff-side perch with another wisp of fine linen in its long beak. Could it be the same little hoopoe that had appeared on Sitis’s balcony the night of the tragedies? Job’s spirit sang at the thought.

  Oop-oop-oop. Oop-oop-oop.

  He bowed his head and allowed the grateful prayer to fill his soul. Yahweh, heal my broken heart and fill it with a new life, a new love that is pleasing to You.

  Job heard a dainty sniff and glanced up at Dinah. Her head was bowed, but he saw tears streaked down the front of her ambrosia linen robe. Confused, he looked at Nogahla. “My mistress cries each time she sees the bird at the cave, Master Job.”

  For the first time in weeks, Dinah looked into Job’s eyes. “Do you remember the lesson you taught me about the hoopoe just before our caravan arrived in Uz?”

  A stab of irony jolted Job’s senses. He’d forgotten. His silence answered Dinah’s question, and the pain in her expression pierced him.

  Dinah glanced away. “It’s all right. I saw another hoopoe bird in Uz,” she said, picking at a thread on her sleeve. “On the day Sitis ran into my arms at the base of your ash pile, a hoopoe bird landed beside us. It was El Shaddai’s loving command of that little bird that convinced my friend to open her heart that day.” Once again Dinah looked up at Job. “Would you like Nogahla and me to wait outside while you say good-bye to your precious wife?” Dinah’s lips quivered as she awaited his answer.

  It was the last time Dinah had spoken to Job except to answer a direct question or to ask how his wounds were healing.

  Job’s stomach twisted, and blood drained from his face. The sounds of Aban’s crowded banquet room entered his consciousness again, and his memory of Sitis’s grave faded. It seems all the pondering in the world can’t answer my persistent questions about Dinah.

  Job glanced at the raucous faces and felt weary to his bones. His patience with his Edomite kinsmen was growing thin. No doubt they had originally flocked to Uz to offer gifts and cheer; however, the drought made them linger in the well-watered city, and Job’s newly renovated home made them too comfortable to return to their desolate lands. Aban had graciously welcomed Job into his home, offering a much-needed escape from the crowds whenever Job chose to withdraw to his second-story chamber.

  Practical and life-giving, Elihu, Eliphaz, and Aban had been like bread and water to Job. Elihu had kept careful records of Job’s quickly growing wealth. Uncle Eliphaz showed hospitality on Job’s behalf to welcome fellow Edomites, and Aban provided boundaries of privacy for Job in his well-guarded palace.

  “Abba Job!” Elihu wound his way between rows of guests and tables, dodging children with toys, avoiding men who’d enjoyed too much wine. “Your great-abba Esau has arrived in Uz!” Elihu continued his perilous march, breathless by the time he arrived at the head table.

  Job’s heart skipped a beat, and the crowd of friends and family quieted. “Where is Aban?” Job asked, hoping the big man hadn’t ridden to a distant field to check on his grain stores.

  “Aban has sent word to Eliphaz that Esau will enter the canyon momentarily.” Elihu held out his hand. “Come, Abba! We must meet them at the grand courtyard gate!”

  Job’s hands began to tremble. The Great Red Mountain himself had come to visit his favorite great-grandson. “Elihu, does Dinah have my canes?” He cast a hopeful glance across the room. No Dinah. She had become dutiful but distant, tending his wounds but guarding her heart. As his body healed, she seemed to feel he needed her less, when everything within him cried out for her more.

  “I have your canes, Master Job.” A young serving maid lifted a cane to his three-fingered right hand, her features nearly identical to his Sitis of forty years ago. Wrapping his thumb and fingers around the handle, the girl began tying his one-fingered left hand to the second cane with a leather thong. “Mistress Dinah has asked me to care for you while Master Esau is in Uz.”

  How did Dinah find out so quickly that Great-Abba was in Uz? Job imagined Dinah hiding like a frightened rabbit the moment she heard of Esau’s arrival. He remembered how harshly Esau had treated Dinah at Grandfather Isaac’s camp, and he was incensed that these strangers around him celebrated the arrival of his brutish great-abba while his best friend and greatest support felt compelled to hide like a criminal.

  “Do you know where I might find Dinah?” he asked the girl.

  She glanced right and left as though guarding a secret. “Dinah is in the kitchen courtyard grinding grain, Master Job. Nada is working day and night to feed everyone, and Mistress Dinah insists on helping her.”

  Job squeezed the cypress cane handles, his frustration mounting. He could never hobble through the kitchen, retrieve Dinah from the courtyard, and wade back through the crowd in time to meet Esau. If it weren’t for all these people . . . A deep sigh. A quiet prayer. These were the frankincense and myrrh for his people-weary soul. El Shaddai, remind me that the celebrants are not strangers. They are my brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, and friends—blessings from You, not curses to bear.

  Job spoke calmly to the girl. “Please tell Dinah I’d like to speak with her after I greet Esau.” She nodded and was quickly on her way.

  Steadying himself, Job parted the crowd and walked as regally as his canes allowed. Elihu followed closely behind, his enthusiasm to meet the Great Red Mountain spurred by exuberant youth. Eliphaz appeared at Job’s side, dutifully preparing to greet hi
s abba, a relationship neither man pretended to cherish. And finally, Aban divided the crowd, his bronze arrows rhythmically clanging with each step.

  The four men stood at Aban’s courtyard gate, the Edomite throng pressing behind them, waiting in the gentle but steady rain. Job received every drop as a whispered promise of El Shaddai’s assurance, watching expectantly for his great-abba’s arrival.

  23

  ~Genesis 36:32~

  Bela son of Beor became king of Edom. His city was named Dinhabah.

  Elihu could barely keep his feet from dancing. In all his years in Abba Job’s household, he’d never met the great Edomite lord, Esau. “I don’t think I can wait much longer,” Elihu whispered, leaning close to Job so no one else could hear his childish eagerness.

  “There may still be time for you to hurry inside and make use of a chamber pot,” Abba Job whispered, mischief brightening his countenance.

  “Abba! Stop it!” Elihu’s outburst drew a raised eyebrow from Eliphaz and a melodious chuckle from Job. Music to my ears, Elihu thought, relishing the playful banter.

  Shofars sounded, and all attention focused on the tall, broad-shouldered form approaching on a gold-and-red-draped camel at the canyon’s entry. The man described as the Great Red Mountain was easily distinguishable even three hundred paces from Aban’s courtyard gate. Power and authority emanated from him, dwarfing the riders beside and behind. His attendants were impossible to identify in the reflecting rainbows of afternoon sun that shone through God’s miraculous rain.