An Unlikely Love Story - 2nd Samuel 25

My name is Abigail, and I am but a humbled servant, with a story to tell you. A story of love, perhaps, if that is what you would like to call it. I, however, would not so boldly choose to use the word, but rather, tell you in truth how it came about to be. For love does find the strangest of ways to settle in one’s heart, and though the route taken was not in any woman’s eyes ideal, I would not have desired it any other way.

I remember the vibrance of the sun that morning, to be unlike any other I had seen in quite a while. The brightly glowing orb rose timidly over the flat horizon, stretching endlessly for longer than eyes could fathom, and all of creation was still. For a moment I lay there, marveling at the feeling of the warm light caressing my weary face and aching muscles, and unwillingly did I force upon myself, the burden of letting my feet to the cold surface of the floor beneath, so as to answer the gentle knock heard from the door. I was uncertain of who it might be, arriving at our lowly home at such an hour, and made haste to the door while wrapping a shawl about my shoulders. My husband, Nabal, had long left that morning even before the sun had risen over the plains, though it was no surprise to me to wake and not see him there. He did not care to be at home, nor did he care to be in my presence for that matter. I confess to you I often found myself wondering if he ever did love me. I do not suppose he did. For what is love when the hand you once took with great joy, you then disown entirely? Though it was no matter; I trusted gladly in my Lord.

The knock came once again at my door, as I hurriedly made my way to answer to its impatience. And upon opening it, there stood before me three men of very unfamiliar appearances, all of which carried swords and a wealthy amount of garments and armor, as though prepared for battle. I did not fear them, yet questioned inwardly their reason for coming. Uninvited, they stepped into my home.
“Might I be of service to you?” I asked of them, and in reply they began to tell of an event that had taken place not hours before their arrival. They spoke of their master, David, who had sent ten of his young men into the desert to greet my husband, who they knew had been shearing his sheep at the time. David, who would become king not long after, was very fond of the friendship once established with Nabal, and took great joy in exchanging the favor of protection over livestock and belongings when needed. They had done so for ours before.
The men went on to say that upon their message of greeting sent to my husband, Nabal was quick to deny the fact that he was ever once associated with their master. “Who is this David?” he boldly inquired. And was harsh and rigorous with his words. Nabal declared he would refuse to grant their request of gifts, which they asked of in return for their favor of watching his possessions, for he doubted their relation to David as being his servants.
This message to me of my husband’s misdeed was altogether appalling, and I was enraged to hear of his unkind and selfish, false assumptions. I wasted no time. I felt as though it was my duty, as the wife of this man, to redeem the peace between our family and David that once stood so firmly. To lose it, would be to risk lives, and I was not willing to do so.
And so I took it upon myself to gather our finest of goods and nothing less of that. Two hundred loaves of bread, two skins of wine, five dressed sheep, five seahs of roasted grain, a hundred cakes of raisins, and two hundred cakes of pressed figs. Though it was the majority of what we had as ours, it seemed to me that I must give what I could in order to save that which Nabal had so carelessly thrown away. These, I loaded onto our strongest donkeys and left to deliver them to David.
“Go on ahead; I’ll follow you,” I instructed the men, and left without telling my husband.

The sun rose high in the boundless stretch of ocean blue above our heads as we swiftly, or rather, as fast as the donkeys cared to move us, made our way along the desert like plain, and eventually descended into a valley, traveled through the passages of gently rolling hills, and into a mountain ravine. Upon our unexpected arrival, David and his men were quick to meet us there, and their rugged faces softened upon seeing me and the gifts I bore to them. I dismounted my weary donkey and fell to my knees, bowing before David in submission, my forehead pressed toward the dusty earth beneath. I had not the words to express my inmost apology, my deepest of regret for the unkind act in part of my husband. I placed my hands on the soiled straps of his sandals, and titled my head to meet his eyes.
“My lord,” I cried, “let the blame be on me alone, and hear what I have to say. May my lord pay no attention to that wicked man Nabal. He is just like his name - a fool, and folly goes with him. But as for me, your servant, I did not hear of this until its message was sent to you. Forgive me, master, and let this gift from your servant be given to the men who follow you. Please forgive my husband and his misdeed, for peace was never more desired for such a time as this.”
David looked upon me with gentleness, and understanding was in the soft ascensions of his voice. I do believe he took to heart my plea for pardon. With remorse and regret in his own words, however, he spoke to me in reply.
“Praise be to the Lord, who has sent you today to meet me. May you be blessed for your good judgment and for keeping me from bloodshed this day, and from avenging myself with my own hands. Otherwise, as surely as the Lord, the God of Israel, lives, who has kept me from harming you, not one male belonging to Nabal would have been left alive by daybreak,” he paused, troubled at my reaction. I must have expressed a look of surprise, for I did not believe that David, the man he was, would even for a moment consider murder as a source of retaliation. For that time, I feared him. He continued with contrasting tone.
“Go home in peace. I have heard your words and granted your request.”

I returned in the evening, when all of creation was settling for the night, and the cool desert breeze swept over my skin like a child’s breath, and both my body and mind were at ease. When my home had become visible, with the glowing amber lights in the windows, I knew that Nabal was not there alone. He was hosting a feast, as he did most often, and was not himself when I returned and came into his presence. Among the lively music and aromas of food mingling with the bitter scent of wine, I found him sprawled on the floor, leaning lazily against the wall behind him. A group of men had encircled him, laughing and mocking his absurd behavior, for he was drunken with wine. They parted slightly to let me through, and I stood before my husband, Nabal, disgraced and ashamed of his indulgement, his immoral conduct. This was the not first time, but it would be the last.
Morning came, and when he was sober enough to listen, I spoke with my husband of the events which took place the day before. I expected a loss of temper on his part, for that which I had done did not please him. But he did not harm me with actions nor words, only became cold to me, and avoided, neglected, my presence at all costs. To say he disowned me, would not be saying enough. Mornings, he would rise and leave without word, and not return until dusk, where he worked through various tasks alone. And at night, he would often fall asleep in the stable, where the golden straw would cling to his beard and hair, and the animals were his only company. They were, perhaps, enough.
But ten days later, the Lord struck my husband, and he died. I wept bitterly.

Word of Nabal’s death traveled rapidly, and reached David and his men in a short time. David, upon hearing of my loss, sent his servants to my home once again, but with very different intentions than last they came.
They arrived one morning, with word from David, a message I had not too soon expected, or expected at all, for that matter.
“David has sent us to you to take you to become his wife,” they said, and rather bluntly so. And a sort of wave of assurance washed over me; I welcomed it with thanksgiving and willingness.
“Here is your maidservant,” I replied, “ready to serve you and wash the feet of my master. Let us go.”
And away we did, to David, and I offered myself to him as his wife and servant, living a life of utter submission. And undoubtedly would I say that I felt more certain at that moment, than I ever had in my entire life.