For my Mama who taught me how to “make a memory.” Someday we will catch them all together.
“Therefore I am now going to allure her; I will lead her into the wilderness and speak tenderly to her.”
Hosea 2:14
“Seila, wake up. It’s time.” The soothing voice of Ro’i coaxed the sleeping girl from her labyrinth of dreams. It was the voice of a Good Shepherd – emanating tenderness when crooning over lambs and thundering violence when frightening away predators. Seila blinked through her fog of confusion and sat up slowly. She vaguely wondered why she was sleeping on a pillow of moss. Where was she? Tumbling questions swirled through the thick haze of her semi-consciousness. These questions should have unsettled and frightened her, but when she locked eyes with Ro’i, her heart calmed. Steadied by his tender gaze, she trusted him and knew she would follow wherever he led her.
Fireflies. They had been catching fireflies. The flickering jar between them reminded her. Mesmerized by the darting diamonds, Seila admired the sparkling insects and wondered how long their lights would last. The familiar, weighty sadness returned. Ro’i wrapped Seila’s white-knuckled fists in his strong, calloused hands. She had been unaware of her death grip until he gently peeled open her fingers, revealing a crushed firefly in her palm. Seila grimaced as he plucked it up and placed it tenderly in his jar with the others. Remarkably, the insect began to twitch and revive, and soon it was darting and gleaming with the rest.
“This is the last one,” he whispered, “Now we must go.”
***
Seila awoke to the wet nuzzling of a lamb’s nose. Turtledove was nudging her affectionately and alerting her to the approaching sound of music and laughter. Planting a kiss between his velvet ears, she sprang from bed and ran to the window. It was barely light, but the neighbors were already stirring with anticipation as they strained to see the approaching horses and soldiers. Father’s army was returning, and Seila’s heart leaped to realize that this fanfare meant victory! Certainly, her father had prevailed over the Ammonites. How startled she had been a week ago, when the elders of Gilead appeared on their doorstep and summoned her father to lead this raid. The army had exhausted their resources and were forced to grovel before the only man with enough prowess to lead them to victory. The man they had once shunned and shamefully driven from his father’s house, was rising as their conquering general. Jephthah couldn’t help but gloat as he eagerly accepted his commission.
Wrapping herself in a woolen shawl, Seila dashed for the door. She was impeded by the furry form of Turtledove, who bleated longingly for the crisp morning air and the company of his mistress.
“No, Dove. Stay here. You’ll be trampled by the horses!”
The sheep made one more attempt to push past his mistress, but she gave him a tender whack with the timbrel in her hand, followed by loving caresses and reassurances that she’d be right back.
Seila’s beautiful voice rose above the cacophony of chattering neighbors as she ran toward the form of her father, serenading him with her victory song. When Jephthah lifted his gaze to behold his daughter, the color rushed from his face. His eyes, which had recently been dancing with the merriment of accolades and victory wine, flooded with tears. Not the tears of fatherly recognition and affection, but tears of repulsion and terror.
“Yahweh, no!” he wailed, tearing his cloak and convulsing with heart- wrenching sobs. “Get out of my sight!”
Seila’s legs gave out from under her, the sunrise blackened, and she lost consciousness. When she awoke, she felt trapped in a nightmare. The mysterious whispering and the disapproving shakes of the servants’ heads, convinced her that something was terribly wrong. Where was Father? Seconds later, she saw him approaching – a specter of grief. Her own father, the fearless conqueror of the Ammonites, was weeping like a frightened child and blubbering incoherent words about a vow.
“I wasn’t thinking, Seila. I feared defeat, so I bargained with Yahweh. Before an army of witnesses, I vowed that, if He gave the Ammonites into my hands, I would offer as a burnt sacrifice whatever came out of the door of my house to meet me. I expected one of your foolish lambs or perhaps a servant. Never, never did I imagine it would be you, Seila, my only daughter.” His words were choked by agonizing sobs.
Fear engulfed Seila’s heart, but her voice remained steady.
“What will you do to make this right, Father?”
Jephthah rose in a fury. “What do you mean by, ‘make it right,’ I have no choice but to fulfill my vows to God. Were I to take back my promise, I would be the laughingstock of Gilead – proving to them that I am nothing but the worthless son of a prostitute. Not a conquering general worthy of their tribute. How could you ask me to do that?”
Seila’s death sentence could not be revoked. With icy resignation, she pushed her father aside, choking back her blinding tears of rage.
Her voice quavered this time as she offered her last appeal,
“Do you not remember that I am to be married next month? What will Asher think of your rash vow?”
Jephthah shrugged, tears streaming through his tangled beard.
“He will need to forget you, to honor my vow, and entrust his bride to Yahweh. Take some time to grieve, Seila. Bring your friends to comfort you, and return in two months’ time.”
Seila moved through the following days in a trance. She fled to a desolate spot in the hills, a place of solace where her sheep could graze unmolested and she could weep freely. Her companions soon wearied of grieving with her, so she sent them home with her blessing, preferring the company of her bleating lambs.
She never remembered what drove her to the cliff’s edge over the riverbank. Once a sheep of hers had wandered off this precipice, and she had watched in horror as his bones shattered against the rocks. He was sucked under the raging current, never to be seen again. Delirious with thirst, Seila longed for the coolness of that water. She was vaguely aware that this leap would be a fresh death sentence, but wouldn’t a dive into this icy river be better than facing the flames of Jephthah’s altar?
“Forgive me, Father,” she breathed weakly, before she closed her eyes and leaned into her certain death.
The plunge sucked all of the air from her lungs. Her stomach dropped, her arms flailed, and her screams were drowned by the thundering current that devoured her.
After what seemed like an eternity, a strong arm reached for her, raising her effortlessly to the surface. Why was she not dead? Who was this strange man, gazing down at her, enveloping her in strong arms and lifting her to safety? Seila had no choice but to give in to the sobs that wracked her body. The stranger covered her in his cloak and held her while she gasped and choked out her questions…
Why had her father let his pride cloud his judgment? How could he have flippantly risked the life of his only daughter? Hadn’t she suffered enough, losing her mother and sister, and enduring her father’s hubris and intoxicated fits of despair? The demands for this final sacrifice were nothing but vengeful.
The stranger, with the simple name of Ro’i, listened to Seila's half- delirious rantings until the sun set. He didn’t reply with words, just listened with rapt attention and compassion that spilled out the corners of his wrinkled eyes. When Seila ran out of words, they sat together in silence on the grassy hillside. Ro’i opened a satchel and produced a crusty loaf of bread. Silently, he broke it and handed the larger piece to Seila. She drank freely from the animal’s skin that rested on his side. Never had she tasted such wine. Ro’i rose to his feet and clapped his cupped hands toward the sky with a gleam of fun in his eyes. Then he offered Seila a peek through his cracked fingers at the spark of fire he had caught mid-flight.
“I’ve always loved fireflies,” she sighed. Then, tracking a darting light, she clapped her own small hands together and slowly opened them to inspect the gleaming treasure. The insect darted cleverly from its captivity, and for a moment Seila met Ro’i’s gaze and remembered how to laugh.
Days passed easily into weeks, and Ro’i remained the steady companion who cared for her - easing her loneliness by day, and keeping vigil by night so she could rest in safety. Memories poured out from the secret places of Seila’s heart, and her crushing fears lifted. Ro’i’s fatherly tenderness flooded into the empty spaces in her soul – the voids left by her mother and sister’s untimely deaths, her father’s neglect, and the stinging loss of Asher. She had longed to be married and to build a whole family – something she had only ever dreamed of. Roi’s compassion never faltered, and he spoke volumes, not with words, but with the piercing gaze of his eyes – eyes that penetrated Seila’s soul. At the end of each day, he would kneel to wash her dirty, aching feet and tenderly bind her wounds.
Sometimes they would sit together at dusk, and Ro’i would tease Seila about her clumsy attempts at catching fireflies. Each time the elusive light escaped her grasp, he would deftly capture his prey between strong hands and gently add it to his collection.
Two months passed, and Seila’s haunting memories and relentless nightmares began to subside. She woke each morning with a fresh sense of wonder, like a child eager to discover and embrace a beautiful world she was exploring for the first time. Occasionally, the shadows would creep over her, and she would call out for Ro’i. Whenever he heard her cry, he would emerge from the darkness and lean against her, so she could feel his strength and the warmth of his shoulder pressed to hers. In these quiet moments, Seila would shake off the vague sense of foreboding that always lurked in the back of her imagination. Something as elusive as the fireflies was troubling her – a memory she would try to capture long enough to understand, only to watch it flicker out of her grasp. Her soul ached when she realized that these beautiful days with Ro’i couldn’t last forever. She sensed that a strong force stronger than both of them would soon draw her away from him whom her soul loved.
***
Seila’s forebodings were realized that morning when Ro’i gently roused her from sleep and pried the dead firefly from her hand. Somehow, she wasn’t the least bit surprised that her shepherd’s touch would bring the poor creature back to life. The sun was beginning to rise as they walked, hand in hand, through the hills and toward a village that looked vaguely familiar to Seila. Perhaps she had been here as a child. Perhaps she had wandered these streets and studied these blank faces in her dreams. Seila hesitated as they approached a rowdy crowd surrounding an altar. The bright flames and shrill voices shocked her senses. Ro’i led her to an old man, weary and grief stricken. His mouth moved in tearful entreaties – words that made no sense, and Seila shivered in repulsion when he clutched at her robe.
“Ro’i, I’m frightened. Take me away from this terrible place,” Seila sobbed.
Ro’i’s expression mirrored Seila’s distress, but he set his face and led her steadily, gently toward the flames. Now Seila was close enough to feel the fire’s heat. Sweaty drops, like blood, trickled down Roi’s cheeks. He turned to Seila and whispered softly, steadily.
“Seila, your days of forgetting are over. Follow me, and we will remember together.” Seila’s heart thundered in her chest and rang in her ears. Before she could think, Ro’i turned and stepped into the flames.
“Yahweh Ro’i! Don’t leave me!” Seila screamed and grabbed his hand. A force, powerful yet gentle, pulled her forward. Seila closed her eyes. She no longer felt the burning flames, but a noxious odor overwhelmed and nauseated her. She remembered this smell from the lambs her father would sacrifice. Seila stumbled and fell toward the blinking light, choking and searching through stinging eyes for Ro’i.
The arms that caught her on the other side of the pyre were smaller, softer, but just as strong and familiar as Ro’i’s. Blinking away her hot tears, Seila looked up to meet the shining eyes of her mother. Her wondering gaze was interrupted by the sound of laughter and the two little arms that clasped tightly around her waist, lovingly squeezing the breath out of her lungs. Could it be?
“Seila, my sister! I’ve waited so long for you to come home!” the little girl shrieked, “Look what Ro’i gave us!” The little girl revealed her treasure – a familiar jar of sparkling, fluttering diamonds that the shepherd had collected and guarded so tenderly. Seila had never seen anything so beautiful. She laughed and snatched her little sister’s hand.
“Come on, let’s go find some more!”
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