A Servant Girl’s Story

I am a long way from home. Captured like an animal, all that I have left of all that I love is memories. I should hate. I should want to kill. Why then do I find myself wanting to heal? Is it to return the kindness of my mistress? Too young to be a sexual plaything for men, she gives me just enough work to distract my tormented mind. She even dries my tears with her own handkerchief, thinking I never see her own pain for her husband’s condition. She tells me us women can’t influence the world of men. But I can!

Maybe it’s that sense of, for once, controlling someone’s destiny that has made me speak up. Or maybe it’s just a way to nurture those fading, but precious, memories of a childhood spent during wondrous times when God’s prophets stopped the rain and made the fire fall. I might be just a slave, but I am important. I am a part of God’s people. Unlike heathens, we do good, even to our enemies. The doctor’s here can’t cure leprosy, but I know someone who can.

To be honest, I am not even sure myself why I spoke up the way I did. It just blurted out one day. Maybe I just hoped they would take me with them. Oh how I wish I could just go home!

(Based on 2 Kings 5)

"That is definitely one of those things that is going to depend on the individual. ..."

Will a Christian who commits suicide ..."
"Hi John. The last few months have been a challenge due to my health. But ..."

‘You Can’t Say That to God?!’
"Hey Adrian, looks like it as been about six months sent you wrote about God ..."

‘You Can’t Say That to God?!’
"Well if we start with letting our guard down a bit, perhaps we will end ..."

‘You Can’t Say That to God?!’

Browse Our Archives

Follow Us!


What Are Your Thoughts?leave a comment