The Samaritan Woman: She Will Be Loved
He sleeps quietly, but my eyes are open. My head rests softly on his shoulder and I feel his chest rise and fall. I cannot say “my husband;” I say “my baal.” I sigh, thinking perhaps today I will be loved.
The others were not righteous. They divorced me publicly, with accusation, taunt, and ridicule. Each time the same: months passed, no child came. First came the sarcasm, the ridicule, the hatred. Next came the beatings. The fat lip; the black eye; the bruises; visible signs of the only love I deserved. Just before the humiliation of divorce, the beatings stopped.