Guess I must be busy. Here’s a short piece I wrote a month or two ago.
This was not the rough tent of a shepherd. Fine rugs covered the sand, and gold glinted in the dimness. Jael reclined on a cushion, dozing as she waited for her lord to return. A shining gilt bowl simmered above the tidy fire, filling the tent with the rich scent of hot goat’s milk infused with cinnamon.
All was still but the gentle rustle of the tent walls in the wind, and the sibilant simmer of the bowl over the fire. Jael stirred, and heard a new sound. Not the returning camel of her husband, but ragged, panting breath, and quick footfalls in the sand. Jael stood quickly and looked out into the gathering dusk. A man approached with an empty scabbard at his side. He wore the breastplate of Canaan.
He fell down at her feet, begging her for water. She led him into the dimness of the tent. She gave him her lord’s bowl from the fire, and he guzzled hungrily on the hot curd. Then his eyes grew heavy. The bowl fell from his hands. Soon he was sound asleep, his breath deep and even.
Then Jael the wife of Heber took up a dirty workman’s hammer in her delicate right hand, and drove a bronze tent peg into the man’s temple. Thus Jael, of tent-dwelling women most blessed, killed Sisera the Canaanite. So may all your enemies perish, O Lord! But let your friends be like the sun as he rises in his might.
I’ll be back soon. Until then, enjoy and remember Holy Week.