Morning Meditations - "Mountain Goat" #2

I tried not to stare as she wrapped her fingers around the mug. The lines and folds on her hands told of stories beyond what I had found in the history books.

I had recently moved halfway across the world for the second time in my life. The wise sages of the previous dwelling were still but an e-mail away, but I desperately missed having tea with my Church Mothers--women whose greatest accomplishment was their love for the Kingdom beyond their cultural borders.

And then I remembered her that I had read about in the history books. Mum came across her name some nine years ago when my brother and I were looking up baptism names, and told me to find out what it meant. Google only gave me two words:

Mountain Goat

Here I was, hoping for an impressive Biblical name that started with the letter J because that was what my brother and I agreed on. And since Mum was dead against Jezebel (what's wrong with being named after Ahab's evil wife??), the only other option we could come up with at the time was "Mountain Goat."

Not "Father is rejoicing" like Abigail, or "Full of Grace" like Hannah.

Mountain Goat.

But then I read the rest of her story in the history books and the more misogynistic side from back in the day greatly admired that she wasn't simply a woman who sat and looked on while there was work to be done. That her story wasn't featured in every other sermon also helped.

And so it was.

And now, she sat across from me in the chair, her legs crossed at the ankles with the warm cup of milk in her hands.

"Tell me the story again," I urged.

She took a sip from the cup, her eyes betraying she was in a world far beyond the present.

"Even if they remember my story, they don't remember my name," she said quietly. "And rightly so. Who remembers a Jewish name that means "mountain goat," much less the name of a woman whose husband is barely mentioned?"

But it mattered to me. I needed to hear it again.

"Please, ma'am," I asked again. "It's important to me."

She gave me a full look for the first time, her eyes searching. They were a deep brown and looked like deep pools that drew me in.

Then she took another sip from the cup, and took a slow breath. It was like that with her every movement, slow and thoughtful.

"It was a day like today..."

To be continued...

Based on a loose interpretation of Judges 1-5.