Enoch

I wonder if they honestly don’t realize they’re doing it or if they do and they just don’t care how this could possibly make me feel? Never enough to erase his lingering presence. As each night an extra place setting was set at the dinner table, a candle left continuously burning in the window, and the unlocked back door left unlocked just in case acted as a reminder that for my parents I must not be enough. Currently my frustration came out due to my mother fixated on looking out the kitchen window as I tried to get her undivided attention. So what it was his birthday; he left us over three years ago. I shouldn’t have to keep fighting for my parents to realize that I was their only son now. Snapping as she was clearly not listening as I had tried to work through details with her as it was only months away from when I would finally take the woman from the village to be my wife. 

She should be focused on that. On this new start of my life; as our family grew, but instead as she did every night she would end the day on her knees pleading with God for Asher’s return. It had been over three years since my little brother walked out that door. Three long years after Asher disgraced my father, took his share of our money, and left without a backwards glance at my mother kneeling in the road weeping as he left. It took me two weeks to realize that he wasn’t coming back and four for the seething hatred to set in from his departure as he continues to steal pieces of this family from me. But even years later my parents still act as if today could be the day that he would finally return to them. 

This was part of the reason why I realized the time has come for me to settle down and made a household of my own. One that would appreciate the grueling hours I spent working for my family’s business. A home that wouldn’t be more preoccupied with someone who was most likely dead rather than who was right in front of them. In my opinion it didn’t matter if my brother walked through those doors himself or was carried in in a pine box because after all this time he was as good as dead. 

Two years had always separated us however, as the oldest I carried the expectations and duties of the family. I worked the longer hours in the fields and brought our business to the next level. The only thing Asher was ever good for was sitting with my mother in the kitchen talking, wasting the day away or long walks with my father talking nonsense. While he worked in the fields beside me his head was always off somewhere else. Whether checking in with the expecting mare or listening to the stories of the hired help he could never actually be focused on what mattered, success. 

What did it matter that John who watched over the fields had a daughter that was ill? We weren’t healers. How could it possibly have helped that Asher brought food to John’s home and sat there wasting hours away. Foolish to get involved in someone else’s life. The only thing that truly helped would be to keep the business running and keep everyone employed. 

Yes Asher and I could not have been more polar opposites. I was driven and focused while he only held us back. So for me it wasn’t surprising that when his friends from the village talked about traveling to far off lands that he would jump at the opportunity to escape his responsibilities and run away on an “adventure.” I hadn’t expected him to take his share of my father’s estate however, and I certainly did not expect my father to hand it over without a fight. I don’t know who was more disappointed in my father for letting him go or my mother who continued to mourn him. 

I left my mother staring out the window and went to find my father as he would be on his way back from the fields. Rather than attempting to get his attention with wedding planning I would speak with him about my plans for the backfields. If we rotated what we were growing the next season I think we could see an increase in what the fields yielded. It would take more work but we would see a much greater reward. I saw him walking in from the fields with John and was annoyed that I wouldn’t be getting time with him alone. 

I decided to sit on the wall near the house and pull out an apple to wait until I could get him alone for him to hear how brillant my idea was. Suddenly one of the house servants who was bringing in water started shouting and pointing down the road. There was someone limping or stumbling towards the house. Obviously drunk or another beggar looking for handouts of food or work. My father wouldn’t be able to turn him away. So here was another person I would be stuck with finding a space in my fields where he would do the least amount of damage and still make a wage. 

But there was something familiar about that gait. Something familiar as the sun shone on the approaching stranger’s hair that hit somewhere deep in my stomach. Bile rose in my throat as I knew who it had to be even before my father took off running.

Asher

Just one more step. Just one more step and then you can take a break. All I could manage, all I could handle was the thought of placing one foot in front of the other. I had to keep going. I’d surely die if I didn’t. So one more step. One more step. One more and you are that much closer to being okay. 

My way back was more painful and taking much more time than it had when I first left. Now I’m on foot, bruised, bleeding, and covered in filth. Vastly different than the caravan of food, companions, and luxury I left with. But just as fleeting as it came it left and with it those that I thought were my friends. Once things became hard. Once I lost that security and wealth that had sustained me for two years dried up they moved on. So for a year I wept and I worked wherever I could. I did horrible, shameful things until I stumbled on a man who had pity on me and gave me work even if it was what I had once believed was far beneath me. 

I ran through the speech that I had practiced and rehearsed for the past ten days since I started my way back. I hoped that the sincerity of my words would speak into their hearts for me to find work and find safety. While the man I worked for was fair with his wages there was little kindness. My father led with grace and gave dignity and respect to others that were often forgotten. A place with the workers and the servants would be so much more than I deserved but I had to ask. I was willing to beg to not be turned away and left to go back to what I left behind.

I knew there must be hurt and righteous anger at what I had done. I had shamed my parents. I had taken what was theirs that they had worked hard for and wasted it away. I knew their anger must be fierce as I knew the anger and guilt that flowed through my very soul. I had no right to step foot again on their land but I also knew in my heart it was time. I had come back to the village shortly before the money ran out. I was going to visit my family and hoped to start building back what I had broken. But as I walked towards the fields and saw my brother and father walking back towards the house I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t take back the past eighteen months. I couldn’t bring back the filth and the lifestyle I had been living into my mother’s home. So I stayed and I watched as the workers left the field and people prepared for dinner. I stayed until it was dark and a light was lit in the kitchen window. 

If only I had knocked on that door and gone back. I might have been dirty and broken then but it was nothing compared to who I was now. The voice deep within me told me it would be better off if I just laid down in the sand and never went back. It would be one less burden for them to deal with. But, I was an inherently selfish creature. Longing for the company of others rather than hard honest work. My brother had always said I was lazy and hadn’t I proved him right?

As I fought with this overwhelming urge of turning and running away rather than facing my parents knowing they had every right to turn me away I realized I was crossing into my father’s land. The choice was simple- turn back and die or go forward and face what I had done. My feet screamed as I kept putting one foot in front of the other. As I slowly made my way towards my father’s house I heard shouting. Suddenly a figure took off towards me and I stopped waiting for the encounter as the servants who were loyal and loved my parents would surely throw me out. But as the man running towards me got closer I realized it was my father. Tears streaming down his face. I fell to my knees as he came towards me knowing that the blow had to come. But with tear filled eyes he knelt in front of me and lifted my chin. As he pulled me into his arms he said, “My son you’ve finally found your way home.”

Hannah

As the men made their way in from the fields and dinner was still being prepared I heard shouting. I made my way out into the yard silently praying that no one was hurt. Whether it was my son or my husband or one of the many men and women that worked for us I couldn’t stand to watch them in pain. I saw as my husband took off running towards what looked like a man badly injured who made his way towards our home. This was nothing new as we often took in those hurting and in need and if they were willing for hard work gave them a place and purpose. 

As I made my way towards my son, Enoch, he just stared at the sight of my husband running towards this stranger. Not looking at me he was clearly still mad about this afternoon. As I had listened to his plans for the wedding he wanted and the feast he wanted prepared I had continued with my work. He would have the best we could provide and as it was so uncommon for him to actually spend time with me I continued washing the dishes and listening to his voice. When did he become a man and ready for his own family. They grow up so fast.

When he still didn’t look my way I turned my attention to the two kneeling figures out on the outskirts of our property. My love stood offering a hand and his cloak as he helped the young man walk the rest of the way to our home. Suddenly I knew what the shouting had been about. My feet felt glued to the ground as I began weeping. God had heard my prayers and brought my boy home. Our family would once again be whole. 

I turned to Enoch ready to grab him in my arms and rejoice that his brother was safe but found him walking back into the house. He didn’t return as my husband brought my youngest child to stand in front of me. Unable to speak I grasped his face and kissed his tear stained cheek. My husband called out instructions for a feast of celebration to be prepared as our Asher was home. Pulling him from my arms my fathers men came forward to help clean and tend to Asher’s needs. They helped him into the house where he would finally be safe. After so many years of not knowing where he was, of whether he was safe and loved my heart finally relaxed.

The feast that night was grand as friends from the village, family that lived close by, and all of our workers sat around whatever they could find and celebrated Asher’s return. However, throughout the night I saw Enoch argue with his betrothed and pull away from everyone. I could see his anger and his frustration. I could see the way he glared at my husband and at times at me and the looks he gave his brother broke my heart. 

My family might be all together but it was far from whole. After the feast and the dancing had ended and everyone was tucked in for the night as they would rise early to begin their work the next day I sat in the kitchen praying. 

God, You are so good to me. So powerful and merciful as you brought Asher safely back to us. That You would hear my prayers and answer them in Your perfect time. 

Father I pray that my youngest would begin to see his worth both to his father and I but more importantly to You. I pray that this time of restoration would also be a time for reflection. 

I pray that my husband’s guilt for pushing the boys too hard would subside. I pray that he would find peace and comfort in knowing that they were both safe and secure under his roof. 

But God, I mostly lift up my eldest. I pray that he will finally come home. That he would see that he was loved and cherished and that he would break down the walls he built up keeping You, us, and everyone else out. That he would see that physical presence and fulfilling obligations didn’t make a relationship. That he would finally be willing to put down the hate he feels towards his brother, the anger he holds against his father and I, and the neglect he has towards You.

I know you can move mountains and raise the dead. I know that You can bring miracles to our front door and freely give second chances. I pray that Enoch would be ready for his.

With that I stood and as I did every night after my prayers I went to the window and lit a candle. Still hoping that one day my son would return home.