Devorah: Book One of The Covenant and the Scrolls Novels

Chapter One

“Devorah!  Devorah!  It is time.”

The young woman turned from contemplating the blossoming olive trees to face the climber intruding upon her sacred space. So soon, she thought.  I would spend more time with You, Abba. 

 Dry wind lifted Devorah’s flowing black hair, spilling it across her forehead and into her large green eyes. Arising from the soft grassy place on the rock strewn hill, Devorah adjusted the robes billowing around her.  Lappodoth, the man violating her sanctuary, had only a few cubits before reaching her.  She sighed, warmth suffusing her chest, heart still aching with devotion. 

I am always with you, daughter. 

She nodded, and whispered, “I know.  I am deeply grateful!  I rely on you so….”       This place nourished and nurtured her; gave her strength.  It wasn’t the grassy knoll on the rock-strewn hill per se, it was the hill within her: a place of deep peace she carried everywhere she went.  And, if she chose - remembered she could choose - she was able to experience it anytime, anywhere.  Here on the hill, with the crystal blue sky and windswept, puffy white clouds, choice was unnecessary as she simply experienced that exhilarating contradictory sensation of empty fullness.  

Not vacant unconsciousness, oh, no, but a fully-aware alertness, sensitive to the potential in each moment.  In this place, she was without identity, not Devorah, not a woman, nor lover, nor Sar – a Judge over Israel, but just a being: a pure, effortless being and energy incarnate.  It was the place God dwelled; was God.  In this place, when she thought, felt and acted from this place, all was well.  Outside it, life was more difficult. “Thank You, thank You, thank You!’ she whispered.  Gratitude was cause, not effect.