The God Who Sees Me (Genesis 16)
Invisible. Overlooked. Inferior.
I sit alone in the tent of slaves, trying to prepare myself for the day. Work. Unrelenting, overwhelming. I am no one.
I rise slowly and drink stale water from a jug. The old woman gets angry if I am slow. So I hurry in the darkness to the well. I climb down the uneven mud steps and draw fresh water for her and the old man.
I arrive at the tent. Good. They still sleep. I set my jug down and get to work on the bread, taking the barley I ground yesterday and mixing up a loaf. Continue reading The God Who Sees Me (Genesis 16)