CHAPTER ONE
“Miriam, come in now. We must begin our new project!”
I usually like my mother’s excitement over new projects. This time, though, I would rather stay outside and continue the adventures my friend Samuel and I are creating in our own world. Samuel dreams of becoming a great leader who will speak so wisely in the synagogue that people will stop what they are doing to listen to his every word. For now, I am the only one listening as he practices his speeches. He puffs out his chest to look like a ferocious warrior and stretches as far as he can trying to stand taller than I am. I watch his sparkling, dark eyes and sunbaked face as he speaks. Then with a wave of his arm, he becomes a man in battle, overtaking the Romans who stand guard outside the gates of our village. Samuel then moves toward me, pretending to come home weary from the fighting, and shares his stories of victory with me.
We like to play games, too. Sometimes, Samuel’s four sisters and my little brother, Joshua, join us and some other boys in the village. We carve games into the hard desert ground and use stones to play. I like three-in-a-row the best, but the boys like a battle game with armies of colored pebbles from different lands fighting to take over each other’s territories. They look determined and serious but then jump up and down, waving their hands in the air when their side wins.
In our favorite ball game, one person tosses the ball high above our heads, and everyone tries to keep the ball from falling to the ground. We can use only one hand and must hold our other hand behind our backs. This is hard, especially when we start laughing and stumble over each other. We have hit our ball so many times that the feathers are coming out through the rips in the cloth. I must ask Mama to restuff our ball and sew the holes together for us. I also like to run, hide, and jump, unlike my sister Martha, who is happy to stay in our house with Mama, learning everything girls should learn. When I am playing with Samuel, I never want the day to end or to go inside.
“Miriam, come now. We must begin.”
Once inside, I sit on a cushion Mama made for me. I see Mama’s touch everywhere in our home. The dolls Mama made for Martha and me sit on the soft blankets she wove for us. She chose just the right colors for each of our blankets—yellow gold for me and purple for Martha—and added flower-like designs for us. Our brothers’ blankets are just right for each of them, too.
She has decorated our home simply with candles, and a small white and yellow-striped iris rests in a pottery dish on our table. Mama said that having this flower in our home helps us see the beauty hidden all around us. In our desert heat, flowers are difficult to find. They surprise us by popping up through the cracks in the ground after the winter rains. Mama made sure to find one for our home.
Cooking utensils neatly hang near the wood stove, and a loaf of bread is cooling on a small shelf. Our home puts its arms around me like a warm cloak, and Mama hugs me just as warmly.
Maybe I should at least try to show some interest in Mama’s project, especially since Martha does the household chores I used to do. Mama had said that once Martha became eight and I became nine, Martha would take on the simpler tasks so I could learn the harder things women need to know.
“Mama, why do I have to learn how to weave?”
“Dear one, even though you are only a young girl, you must begin now to prepare for the wedding day that your papa and your brother Jude will arrange for you. Did you know they will offer your future husband a special cloak woven by your own hand? As your groom proceeds to our home to take you as his bride, he will proudly wear this cloak. What a grand day that will be!”
“Oh, Mama, I will make the cloak red, and Samuel will be proud to wear it. He will look so handsome.”
Mama stops what she is doing and looks surprised. “Samuel? Why do you think Samuel will be your husband?”
“Who else would Papa and Jude choose? Samuel is the only boy in the village who knows everything about me and still likes me! Papa and Jude love me, and they know I like Samuel. Of course, they will choose him.”
Mama’s voice is serious. “I do not know, my child. You are moving much too quickly. This decision is an important one for our family and your future. The choice will be in your papa and brother’s hands, not mine, and especially not yours as a young girl. Do not worry about who will wear the cloak when you do not even know how to weave. Remember, Miriam, you must live your life in an orderly manner and not rush ahead into the mysterious parts you do not yet understand.”
“Yes, Mama, but can the cloak still be red?”
“Of course. Any man would be proud to wear your red cloak.”
I love adventure. I love the stories that Samuel and I weave as we let our imaginations go wild. I always thought that when I got older, I would have more time to be with Samuel, but now that I am twelve, I am not sure I like growing up. Weaving and household chores are not what I would choose to do, but I do enjoy spending time with Martha and talking to her. She is kind and will listen to me when no one else will. She seems to understand me even though we are nothing alike.
Last night after supper, Papa turned to me with a very serious look. “You cannot keep playing outside with the boys and younger children now that you are growing into a woman. Young women need to learn how to take care of the home. Besides, Samuel is busy with his studies at our synagogue. He will soon enter into manhood and leave the games of children behind.”
How strange to think of Samuel as a man. Men are old, and he is still a boy. I have noticed changes in him, though. He no longer needs to puff out his chest to look strong. His shoulders are bigger, and he has grown taller than I am. His voice sounds lower, and I have seen men respectfully talking with him. He also looks at me with different eyes, and I wonder what he is thinking. Does Samuel still dream his big dreams? I know I do, so certainly he must.
I think Mama shares my hope that Samuel and I will marry. As I practice my weaving under Mama’s watchful eye, I realize that her lessons are much more about Mama weaving the truths of life into me than weaving cloth. She talks to me about my future life when I am married and bearing children. She often slips and uses Samuel’s name when she refers to my husband. I secretly smile when she does that, and I never correct her.
I hope someday I will be as beautiful as Mama. I love her smooth, bronze skin and shiny dark hair. She is smaller than most of the women in the village. Being small might be difficult for some, but Mama can do anything she decides to do. She moves from one task to another, so sure of herself, and displays a grace I admire. I pray that God will allow me to grow into a woman like Mama.
Because Mama is a midwife here in Kerioth, she knows many families. When she returns from helping with the birth of one of our village’s new babies, I always beg her to tell me all the exciting details. She reminds me that I should not ask about private matters. I am not even sure what she means when she says that. Even though she will not answer all of my questions, she teaches me much of what she has learned.
A few days ago, she started talking about choosing names for children. I never thought about that before. I thought parents chose something pretty or strong sounding and named the baby.
I noticed Mama’s cheeks reddened as she began to tell me more. “Miriam, you must pray that you will choose just the right names for your children. I remember feeling a little embarrassed when I found out why my papa and mama chose Rebekah for me. My name means ‘a rope with a noose.’”
“Mama! What were they thinking?”
“Slow down, Miriam. You are rushing ahead again. ‘A rope with a noose’ means ‘a young woman whose beauty captivates men.’ Now you know why I felt embarrassed.”
“But, Mama, you are beautiful. No wonder Papa loved you from the first day he saw you. Why are you turning red, Mama?”
“Do not constantly interrupt me. Now, where was I? Oh, yes, you must always look deeper into the meaning of the name and learn about the person for whom you are named. You know that in our prayers, we remember the fathers of our faith. The first is Abraham. God called him to leave everything he knew to follow wherever God led, which Abraham did. Then miraculously, Isaac, the second father of our faith, was born to Abraham and Sarah when they were both very old. And, the third father of our faith was Isaac’s son, Jacob, whose sons were the leaders of the twelve tribes of Israel.”
“I do remember these stories Papa has shared with us, but what does this have to do with the meaning of names?”
“Yes, yes. I was getting to that. I am named for Rebekah, the wife of Isaac. Rebekah was Abraham’s daughter-in-law, Isaac’s wife, and Jacob’s mother. Miriam, think what a blessing God bestowed upon Rebekah. She certainly made some mistakes, but God used her mistakes, even when she occasionally moved ahead of God’s plans. That explains why I...