Blog Title: Sister Wife
About Me: Hello and welcome to my blog! I’m an Egyptian woman who became the slave of a Hebrew woman. As her slave, I was forced to become a second wife to her husband and give birth to his heir. Now before you go hitting the ‘back’ button, this is not some kinky blog about the joys of polygamy! It’s quite the opposite actually. If anything, my blog is a cautionary tale, detailing the ways in which polygamy can destroy good relationships.
Intended Audience: Women on the fringes of society and women contemplating a polygamist union will find useful information in my blog.
When It All Comes Crumbling Down
On the day of the feast to celebrate Isaac’s weaning, I felt Sarah’s hatred and jealousy piercing my heart like arrows of fire. The air between us crackled with simmering tension. I mourned the loss of the relationship we had prior to my joining in her marriage. I had felt fortunate to be a slave to such a good and noble woman as Sarah. If only she and Abraham had not tried to force God’s plan! If only I had not become so arrogant when I became pregnant! But there was no use in lamenting the past. Whatever the circumstances, this was the situation we were in and there was no changing it.
Despite the shattered relationship between Sarah and me, I was not prepared when Abraham visited the next morning, gave me some food and some water, and then cast me out into the Desert of Beersheba.
I don’t know why I was surprised. I hadn’t felt like a real member of the family, even after Ishmael was born. After 13 years, here we were being thrown out as easily as yesterday’s garbage! Did he not care that we would surely die?
But there was no time to give in to my emotions, even if the anger and fear I felt threatened to drown me. I had a son to take care of. So once more I found myself traveling through the barren desert lands in search of somewhere to settle down and raise my child. The fierce arid winds swept sand against my ankles stinging my skin like thousands of ants biting into my flesh.
We wandered in the desert for I don’t know how many lonely days and nights. Eventually our meager supplies of food and water were depleted. As hard as I tried, I could not find water for my son and I feared he would die of thirst.
Seeing my child endure such suffering was more than I could bear. I found a scraggly bush that offered some shade and laid my son under its scrawny branches. I walked a few feet away and crumpled to the ground. “I cannot watch the boy die,” I sobbed.
This was the lowest moment of my entire life. There seemed to be no hope and I was ready to give up. Then suddenly I heard a voice:
What is the matter, Hagar? Do not be afraid; God has heard the boy crying as he lies there. Lift the boy up and take him by the hand, for I will make him into a great nation (Genesis 21:17).
When I looked around I saw a well of water! I spared a tiny minute to rejoice and praise the Lord before quickly filling the skin Abraham had given me with water and holding it to Ishmael’s lips, carefully, so that he would not drink too much too fast.
Renewed with focus and purpose from God’s assurance, I continued on my journey with my son, searching for a place to call home. My spirit was revived because I knew we were not alone. God was with us. Twice the Lord had come to my rescue and I knew without a doubt that there was nowhere in the world I would walk that the Lord would not walk with me.