No Woman So Fair by Gilbert Morris

No Woman So Fair by Gilbert Morris

Author:Gilbert Morris [Morris, Gilbert]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FIC042030, FIC042000, FIC026000
ISBN: 9781441262370
Publisher: Baker Publishing Group
Published: 2012-08-16T16:00:00+00:00


Chapter 18

The night sky was sprinkled with more stars than Abram could remember seeing in many years. Looking up in the moonlight, he almost stumbled over the root of a large tree that loomed out to his left. Catching his balance, he stopped and made his way to the trunk. It was a terebinth tree, short trunked, with spreading branches that blotted out part of the heavens above him.

Abram sat down, aware that his legs were weary and that indeed his whole body ached with fatigue. His eyes were heavy and gritty, for he had slept only in fits since the slave girl Hagar had brought Sarai’s message. That was close to two weeks ago! he thought with alarm. Leaning his head back, he felt the roughness of the bark against his hair and pushed his head against it until the pressure became painful. The night air was so much cooler than the heat of the day, and for a time he sat there struggling against his desire for sleep.

Abram had prayed every way he could think of. He had prayed aloud in a soft voice. At times his voice had risen to a crescendo, but his spirit was in so much agony, he didn’t care who heard him. He had prayed sitting, standing, walking, and at times had grown so agitated he’d flung himself full-length on the ground with his lips in the dust, crying out to the Eternal One.

He was met with silence and felt nothing but a deep darkness, like a beast trying to drag him into a silent black hole in the earth. He thought it would be a pleasure to surrender to death, simply to escape the agony that was clawing at his insides.

One day was like every other day to him now, and what little he ate was like eating the dust of Egypt—tasteless and gritty. He even forgot to drink until, from time to time, he would become aware of the fact that his lips were dry as parchment and his tongue cleaved to the roof of his mouth.

The tree had a strong and pungent aroma, and Abram reached back, extending his arms and feeling the rough bark. He pressed his hands against it and curled his fingers, clutching at the bark and breaking off small fragments. He brought them to his nose and smelled their sharp, aromatic fragrance, distinct from other trees. From far off in the distance came the cry of a wild dog. Its plaintive wail emphasized Abram’s loneliness, and he was seized with the temptation to emulate the animal and howl his miseries on the Egyptian air.

Abram felt drugged with weariness. He could no longer even speak clearly, so he had avoided the others, spending much of his time by himself out in the pastures rather than returning to camp. But now he knew he desperately needed rest and needed to get back to his tent. He tossed down the pieces of bark and struggled to his feet, so weak he had to grasp ahold of the tree trunk for support.



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