Hannah needed a child. Her heart bled for a child. Nothing else could comfort her. Nothing else could make her laugh. Give her a thousand gifts, she wanted none. Her husband tried, but he wasted time. Wasted gifts. Wasted words. All rejected.
“Hannah!” Elkanah called to her one day. “Look at me, please. Am I not better to you than ten sons?” he whispered into her ear.
There was no response. Echoes of unanswered questions remained.
She must have turned away from him, flinching with guilt. Red-faced. Sullen. Angry — not at him, but at herself. She did not know why she had these feelings.
Every day, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed her rival Peninah, who not only had sons but daughters. She saw her laughter. She craved her joy. She was jealous of her fullness. And when she thought about herself, what did she have? Only gifts from her husband. No children.
So she prayed, and she prayed…and she prayed some more. Continue reading