SDfAoWOP: Jael

Day Thirteen

Judges 4:21

But Jael the wife of Heber took a tent peg, and took a hammer in her hand. Then she went softly to him and drove the peg into his temple until it went down into the ground while he was lying fast asleep from weariness. So he died.

Some days my tent is swept and put in order, my vat of warm milk ready for anyone who needs a drink. I would be happy to loll in the shade, reading a good book while the men keep things going in the war. The pegs at the corners my tent are meant to keep it up and keep me cool and happy. War is supposed to stay far away, out there.

But then other days, more days, I find that I am wandering around with a tent peg in my hand, facing down a battle whether I am ready for it or not. I didn't ask for it. It wasn't on the list of things I had to do. Exasperation and bitterness sit close at hand. Let the men do what they are supposed to do, I mutter behind the smile. But at least the tent is swept and the milk is ready. The peg at the ready.

When the men won't go to war, every woman must sweep her tent and steady her hand against the enemy. She must not fuss and complain about how bad she has it. She must take up her courage and her peg, but softly, carefully, with judicious reserve. And not apply it on her own head.