For a brief moment the previous day, I’d felt a flicker of kinship with him because of my own barrenness, but he brandished his brokenness like a sword, ready to cut anyone who displeased him because someone in Pharaoh’s household had once cut him.

I tried to close my ears to the strange worshipful chanting and fix my mind on God, but the Egyptians’ idolatry weighed down my weary shoulders and brought tears to my closed eyes.

Though I’d proven to be a wretched, foolish woman, I knew deep in my broken heart that God was still just as good and loving as he’d been the moment he plucked a rib from Adam’s side and used that bone to give me life.

The first sight I beheld when I first awakened was a pair of eyes filled with pure adoration and a joyful grin that shone more brightly than the afternoon sun. Though he hadn’t spoken a single word, I knew exactly who he was. He was my creator … my Lord … my God.