Sarah Learns to Laugh

Why now, O Lord? She barely felt the hands bathing her, dressing her. A young serving girl fastened golden bracelets on her arm. “Mistress,” she said, “do not be sad for your brother Abraham. The king is pleased with your beauty and you will be honored and loved as his wife.” Sarah tried to smile. Here in the king’s palace she must be only Abraham’s sister; no one could know she was his wife. His life depended on it now. The maid began to brush her long thick hair and Sarah bent her head. Was she to live in King Abimelech’s harem, cut off from Abraham, from hope?
She had waited so long for the promised son, unable to bear a child. And now too old to bear one, God had promised that within the year she would have a son. But she had laughed. Harsh laughter to herself, doubting. And God had said, “Why did Sarah laugh and say, ‘Shall I bear a son, now that I am old?’ Is anything too hard for the Lord? At the appointed time…Sarah shall have a son.” Fear had driven her to deny that she had laughed. God’s final words to her, she could hear them now: “No,” he said, “you did laugh.” Was it to be her punishment never to leave this place? Within days Abraham had moved them here to Gerar away from the fires burning behind them on the plains of Sodom and Gomorrah. She could no longer hold back her tears. The maid held her brush and waited as Sarah wept bitterly.
Abraham, her husband, the one she loved with all her heart was God’s chosen one. And nothing would shake Abraham’s trust in all God told him. When had she stopped trusting God to help her? They had travelled through Canaan as God commanded, building altars to Him, digging wells. When the two of them were alone she had listened to him, his voice full of awe, tell her things God had promised, to make him a great nation, give them the promised land forever. But God had kept her from having children. Had she stopped trusting him after ten years of waiting and given her serving girl to Abraham that he might have the promised son with her? Hagar had borne Ishmael, and Sarah had learned to live with that. She was still the wife of Abraham, or was that to be taken from her forever? The maid began dressing her hair again. “You are so beautiful. It is an ageless beauty,” she whispered.
Sarah answered, “It is a dangerous gift, or I would not be here.” The maid nodded. Sarah could not tell her she had promised Abraham to say she was his sister when they travelled in dangerous places like Gerar. Men could be killed for a desirable wife, but a sister would bring gifts. Silently she prayed, “Lord, may Abraham live, though you have judged me unworthy, let all your promised blessings be on him.”
Sarah closed her eyes. This was not the first time she had suffered as Abraham’s sister. When a famine had made them go to Egypt, the Pharaoh asked to have her as a wife. One did not refuse the Pharaoh. But God had sent a terrible sickness to all Pharaoh’s household, and the Egyptians soon knew it was because of Sarah. Fear had made them return her to Abraham and they had left in haste for Canaan. God had heard her then and rescued her. Sarah opened her eyes. Could she hope God had not utterly rejected her? Would rescue her again? Faint hope mixed with her anguish. The maid touched Sarah’s arm and led her to the bed chamber. No one called for her that night. And she did not notice when she stopped crying out to God and slept. And then they came for her.
And Abraham was standing before the king. The king spoke saying, “Because this is your wife, though I did not know it, your God came to me in a dream saying, I and my household were as good as dead if she was not returned to you. It was he who kept me from touching her. Now go, both of you. And pray for us that we may live.” The king gave Abraham silver and goods, welcoming them to dwell in his land. And Sarah knew God had heard her cries.
“Come, Mistress, drink this, it will help.” The gentle face of the midwife, Dorcas, held the cup to Sarah’s lips. Sarah drank and slept then until wrenching pain woke her demanding all of her. Dorcas’ strong arms held her, encouraging, commending every effort Sarah made. At last, it was over, Sarah heard the cry of her bay, Abraham’s son.
“You have a fine boy,” Dorcas said, laying the little wrapped bundle in Sarah’s arms. “We must call the master to come see his newborn son.” But Sarah barely heard her for the love filling her for this wonder, the promise meant all along for her, here in her arms. She touched the tiny nose so like Abraham’s and laughed.
Abraham had come and knelt to see his little son. Tears of joy ran down Sarah’s face, as she said, “God has brought me laughter, and see how beautiful he is.” As Abraham lifted his son into his arms, Sarah whispered, “Is anything too hard for the Lord? All who hear of this will laugh with me.”
Abraham looked up, and there were tears running down his face. “God has done as He promised. And you, my beloved, have never looked more beautiful. Your face is shining with joy.”
“Yes, dear husband, for God has taken away my barrenness forever. Now go, show him to all who are waiting for you to name and bless him.”
“Rest, my beloved,” Abraham said, “while I go proclaim my son and heir, Isaac.”