Homeless. Forced from the only home my son has ever known. It may have been a toxic situation for me, but I would have endured anything for him. My son had what he needed and wanted, but now, we are forced to leave. All because of her.
With only the clothes on our back, a little food and some water, we were told to leave. I can’t say I didn’t see this coming, but I didn’t want to believe my son’s father would turn us away.
No transportation. No housing. No job. No money.
We begin walking all the while I’m trying to come up with a plan. Wondering where we should go.
We can’t go back to my parents’ home. They won’t have us.
All I’ve ever done is servant type work, but no other job skills to keep us afloat. Plus, who would take me on knowing I have a son?
He asks me where we are going, what we are going to do. I have no answers.
We sleep outdoors and try to make the food and water last as long as possible, but it eventually runs out. I still have no plan.
I wonder if she ever even thought about what would happen to my son when she had her husband kick us out. I’m not exactly the “other” woman. She wanted her husband to sleep with me, so he would have an heir. She got exactly what she asked for. I gave birth to a son, his first born son. She resented me as much as I resented her, and the competition only escalated when she gave birth to a son at the age of 90.
I ration the food and water and often give my portion to my son. He’s getting weaker and weaker with each passing day as we wander aimlessly in the wilderness. Hopelessness and despair are my constant companions. The burden is overwhelming, and it’s not getting any better.
My son is wasting away. His lips chapped, and skin is blistering. His eyes are sunken. When he cries, there are no tears. I’m watching my son die a slow and painful death, and in the process, he’s asking questions. “Why did dad do this?” “Doesn’t he love us?” He would say things like, “I’ll do better. I promise.” “I won’t pick on Isaac any more. Can we just go back?”
I try to explain to him in terms he would understand – “This is not your fault,” “your daddy loves you,” and “We can’t go back ever again.” He cries again in my arms, and my heart breaks again as I rock him. My tears won’t come either.
I go from anger to rage then denial. My emotions have hit rock bottom in depression, but this is as low as I have ever been. I’ve just laid Ishmael in some shade. I know he’s going to die. I can’t take it. He’s begging me for water, for food, and I have nothing. I can’t even feed my own baby! What kind of mother can’t provide for her own son? What kind of mother am I?
I walk off. I can still see where I laid him, but I can’t watch him take his last breath. I’m sobbing uncontrollably, the ugly, snot-running, heaving kind of weeping that comes from carrying a burden alone for too long. I am just a shell. There’s nothing left in me to give. No mother should ever have to watch her child suffer like this and die.
Just when I think I can’t take one more minute of this life, Yahweh sends an angel to speak to me. Why did He wait until now to move, to speak? I can’t do this.
“What’s wrong, Hagar?” That’s the angel’s first words to me. “What’s wrong!?” – He asks. If I had the strength to be sarcastic my response would have been much different, but in my current state I had nothing.
He said, “Don’t be afraid for God has heard the voice of the boy.” He heard my son’s voice. What had my son said? I guess it doesn’t really matter. What matters is help is now here.
The angel tells me to get up, to help Ishmael up and to support him. He reminds me Ishmael is going to be a great nation. I knew Yahweh had promised a great nation, but honestly, I had given up hope.
As I’m raising Ishmael up, that’s when I saw it. It had been there all along I guess, and I never saw it. God had opened my eyes, and there was a well of water. (Genesis 21:19 – Then God opened her eyes, and she saw the well of water.)
As moms, we would move heaven and earth for our kids, but when things are out of our control and there’s nothing we can do to “fix” what is wrong, it can be one of the most helpless feelings.
Had you ever slipped on Hagar’s sandals? Had you ever thought of this story from her perspective?
God allowed Hagar to get to the end of herself before opening her eyes to what was in front of her. Sometimes we have to be driven to the pit of despair before we look to God for the answer. At no time in Scripture do we see Hagar crying out to Yahweh during the wandering. Was she relying only on herself?
God kept His promise regarding Ishmael. The Islamic nation comes from Ishmael. It is a mighty nation.
You can read Hagar’s story in Genesis 16 and 21. In Her Sandals is not my attempt to add to Scripture. I research, and then I wonder what she may have heard, thought, smelled, tasted, and sensed.
