Caleb bounded down the hallway, giggling as his ball rolled to the top of the staircase. It teetered for a moment, then slipped over the edge and bounced away. The boy charged after the stray toy and scooped it up, narrowly avoiding a collision with the wall and another orphan boy.
Gogglepod sat up slowly, rubbing his tired eyes. “Surely it is not morning already,” he thought. But, a quick glance out the window proved him wrong as he beheld long rays of gleaming yellow sunlight pouring onto the wooden floor below. Swinging from his hammock, he dropped onto the makeshift floor, barely making a sound with his soft feet. Donning his brown, frayed, buckskin shirt and pants, he shoved a coonskin cap on his head to cover his brown greasy hair.
Perhaps you, like me, always want to know what happens next and are sad when a story ends. If so, here is something to satisfy your appetite.
Twelve years have passed since I was reunited with my family. During my final years at home, Joshua, Daniel, and Abigail—who married while I was away—provided me with plenty of nephews and nieces to keep me busy, and I was present at the weddings of both Mary and David.
The next day, we left the for home. There were a few groups traveling to different lands, but the Jewish group was largest. Our journey was slower than my last one, as we were walking and pulling animals carrying supplies. I didn’t mind, though. Though my legs moved slowly, my heart felt like it was flying. I was going home! After over four years of separation, I was going to see my family again.
Master looked at me in surprise. “I’ve been watching the other servants, and I’ve noticed them giving you angry looks or whispering something hurtful. None of them appear to like you. Why would you want to stay with them?”
I paused for a moment, trying to find the right words to articulate my thoughts. “Sir, I want to go home, but I could never fully enjoy it while I knew my fellow Jews were living here in bondage. Besides, it doesn’t really matter if they don’t like me. If I’m supposed to help my enemies, I think I’m supposed to help my fellow Jews if I can.”
“He’s healed.” Mistress was ecstatic. “The prophet in Israel helped heal Naaman. He’s healed! Oh, he’s coming home!”
Mistress sat quietly by the large window, staring out at the brightly-colored gardens. I could tell she was thinking about Master.
I stood hidden, also thinking. I had to tell her. I knew I did. But how? When? I didn’t think I could do it. I didn’t want to. I wanted to go home.
But I had to tell her.
“They’re so beautiful, aren’t they,” Mistress murmured, pulling my thoughts back to the present.
“Pardon me, ma’am?” I asked, stepping forward. “May I help you?”
I awoke earlier than normal the next morning. The thought that I could go home soon was so wonderful I couldn’t bear to waste a moment sleeping. I slipped on my brown dress and brushed my hair as the first rays of dawn peeked into Mistress’s room. I heard her stir next door and I stepped inside, ready to help. I felt I could handle anything that day with a smile and cheerful obedience.
Yet…though I was quite happy and hopeful inside…Mistress wasn’t. Of course, that was to be expected, but still…was it right for me to be so happy?
“Good morning, Martha,” I called out to the girl as I passed her in the hallway.
“Good morning, Elizabeth,” my friend answered. “How are you?”
“Doing well. And you?”
“Just fine, although we’re quite busy finishing everything before Master’s return.”
That first day seemed to take forever. I washed dishes, chopped vegetables, baked bread, and stood for hours. By the time Martha and I were allowed to go to bed, I was exhausted. My legs ached, and I was glad to slip on the nightgown Martha gave me and drop into bed. Martha didn’t seem as tired, though, and wanted to talk.
“How old are you?” Martha asked as she lay down in the bed beside me.
“Seven.”
“That’s the same age I was when I was kidnapped,” she said softly.
“How old are you now?”
“Nine.”
“Where were you taken from?”