by Violet Nesdoly based on 2 Kings 5:1-3

"Tamra!"

Was that Mother? Tamra stirred in the happy darkness of sleep.

"Tamra! Rise, you lazy thing!"

Tamra opened her eyes, saw the gray walls and remembered. She was far from home, a slave in General Naaman’s house. She jumped up, dressed and hurried into the kitchen.

"At last!" Saleem scolded as she picked up the small pitcher. Tamra followed with the steaming jug through the brightening courtyard and up the stairs to Mistress’s chamber.

As they entered, Tamra glanced at Mistress. Her eyes were red, her face swollen.

Saleem became all sweetness. "Will your highness have the full hair dressing today?"

"It doesn’t matter," Mistress said. She sounded sad. Tamra studied Mistress’s face. Something was wrong.

Saleem, seeing Tamra idle, dismissed her with a jerk of her head.

Back in the kitchen, Tamra helped Amram arrange a tray of pomegranates and grapes. But she thought of Mistress.

"Why does Mistress weep?" she finally asked.

"Haven’t you heard?" Amram replied. "Master has leprosy."

Leprosy! The word hit like a slap. "Will he be banished?"

"When he’s sick and crippled."

Proud, fierce Naaman, a leper! Tamra mulled over this incredible fact as she put the final touches on the tray. This changed everything—again.

The changes had begun one horrible day when she and Mother had been walking home from market in Shunem. They’d stepped off the road at the sound of hoof beats. But the soldiers stopped. One leaped off his horse and came straight for her. She could still hear Mother’s screams and feel rough hands swing her onto a horse.

"Sweep the courtyard, girl!" Saleem commanded as she entered the kitchen, interrupting Tamra’s thoughts.

Today, Tamra found the rhythm of sweeping soothing as she untwisted her tangled thoughts. What did Naaman’s leprosy mean? Maybe what her parents said about Yahweh was true after all. Since she’d come here, God had felt far away and everything she believed didn’t seem to make sense. But now General Naaman had a problem. Doctors and medicines couldn’t cure leprosy.

But wait! In Israel there was someone—the prophet. Yahweh himself talked to Elisha. He had done many miracles. He’d even raised her little brother’s friend from the dead. Elisha could heal Naaman. The thought made Tamra’s heart pound. She would tell Mistress!

Tamra looked up towards Mistress’s room.

Was Saleem still inside?

She certainly didn’t want to talk to Mistress with her around. Tamra finished sweeping while watching the stairs. No Saleem. She must have come down. Now would be a good time.

Tamra tiptoed up the stairs and tapped on Mistress’s door. Saleem flung it open and hissed, "What do you want?"

"I want to speak with Mistress." Tamra could hardly hear her own voice.

Saleem’s eyes narrowed. "No!" Her voice was full of hate. "You may never talk to her! Now get on with your chores, or you’ll be whipped."

Tamra trembled as she crept down the stairs. She got the wash bucket and began scrubbing the kitchen floor. But she couldn’t forget the idea that Master Naaman must see Elisha. The thought burned in her—as if Yahweh himself had given her this message to deliver. She had to tell Mistress somehow.

Please, Yahweh, please, she prayed silently over and over. Please make a way.

Tamra woke early the next morning. Remembering what she must do, she felt afraid. In the kitchen the towels and jugs were ready, but Saleem was nowhere around.

"Saleem is ill," Amram told her.

Tamra felt a shiver go through her. God had heard!

Amram helped carry the jugs up to Mistress’s room. Tamra was suddenly nervous. Her face went crimson. "What is your pleasure?" she asked, not looking up.

"Where’s Saleem?" Mistress’s voice was sharp. Tamra’s fear grew. What if her talk of Elisha made Mistress angry instead of glad?

"She’s ill," Tamra replied. She glanced into Mistress’s red-rimmed eyes.

"Pour the water," Mistress said.

Tamra did her job. Mistress spoke only to tell her what to do. As Tamra gathered the hair jewels, she knew she had to speak now or miss her chance. Panic rose inside her. She breathed a prayer and took a deep breath.

"I wish my master would go see the prophet in Samaria," she blurted. "He would heal him of leprosy."

Mistress grew still. Then she turned around and looked at Tamra. "What did you say, little maid?"

Was she angry or glad?

Tamra couldn’t tell. But somehow it didn’t matter anymore. For now that she had done what she must, she felt Yahweh’s presence like warm sunshine after a cloudy day. He was here. He would take care of her.

"I wish Master Naaman would go see the prophet in Samaria," she said again. "He would heal him of leprosy."

This time her voice was confident and strong.

	Q: Why did the dog lay on its back with its feet sticking in the air? A: It was trying to trip birds. Amy S., 11, Illinois Clubhouse Jr. Click here to subscribe