Between the Wild Branches

Just how many nameless, faceless friends had I been protected by without knowing it?

I sank into the water until every part of me was submerged, and then rose again. I stretched my palms upward as I did so, asking that Yahweh would take the hands that had done so much damage and consecrate them, vowing that never again would they be lifted in anger or violence, only in defense of those who could not defend themselves.

Long ago he'd chosen me as his son, offered me a home and love and protection just like one of his children, but today I chose him as a father. It did not matter that Philistine blood ran in my veins. I was now and for always his child.

I may not be the champion of Ashdod anymore, but I would not go down without a fight.

We have many more years together on our mountain, Lukio," she'd said. "So bring yourself back to me, unscathed.

I have learned to hold not only him but everything in my life with an open hand, trusting that no matter what, Yahweh is good.

And the question I wrestled most with was, if all of that was real, did that mean that the God of the universe might actually care about me? A sullied Philistine who'd done everything he could to reject him and run from his presence?

Lukio was no longer the boy he’d been, but neither was I the same girl, so it did no good to wish away the chasm between us. It was just as immovable as the mountain I’d grown up on and as deep as the valley I’d walked since he’d left Kiryat-Yearim.

I nodded and pulled out of his hold, instantly feeling chilled at the loss of his nearness and my throat aching from the urge to weep. But I forced myself to walk away, leaving him alone on the terrace with a broken shell and all my futile longings for what might have been.

My hands were made for defending those who cannot defend themselves.