Counted With the Stars (Out From Egypt, #1)

by Connilyn Cossette

At times, I had glimpsed a depth of wisdom in those eyes that made me wonder what her life might have been before she became my handmaid. But I had never asked. Why had I never asked?

Always ask questions

But the music of it washed over me, leaving behind an impossible calm and a surprising clarity.

I followed a silent and stoic Shefu out of the white villa that had been my home since birth and into the violent sunlight, with the incomprehensible realization that my handmaid and I were now on the same footing.

Kiya?”

Kiya Queen consort of Egypt Great Beloved Wife Kiya was one of the wives of the Egyptian Pharaoh Akhenaten. Little is known about her, and her actions and roles are poorly documented in the historical record, in contrast to those of Akhenaten's ‘Great royal wife’, Nefertiti. Her unusual name suggests that she may originally have been a Mitanni princess.[1] Surviving evidence demonstrates that Kiya was an important figure at Akhenaten's court during the middle years of his reign, when she had a daughter with him.[2][3] She disappears from history a few years before her royal husband's death. In previous years, she was thought to be mother of Tutankhamun, but recent DNA evidence suggests this is unlikely

She had loved me, in spite of my selfishness.

I swear by the sun and moon and all the stars.”

And no matter my allegiance to all the gods, slavery became my lot.

“No, there is always hope. As long as we have breath in our bodies, there is hope.”

And many doubt that Elohim even hears us. But he does, and he sent a Deliverer!”

Was every Hebrew peculiar like this girl?

Faithful strong courageous > fear

“Elohim, the Strong One, is how we call upon our God,”

Yaakov.

I want to name my next son yaakov, hopefully Saafir will let me.

“How can you ensure answered prayers if you cannot name him?”

“He hears.”

“Pharaoh is not the highest god, and Moses will prove it to him.”

I thirsted to know more.

Shifrah and Puah

Shiphrah (Hebrew: שִׁפְרָה Šīp̄ərā) and Puah (Hebrew: פּוּעָה Pūʿā) were two midwives who briefly prevented a genocide[1] of children by the Egyptians, according to Exodus 1:15–21,

Shira’s stories, of her people and her God, were like wild honey. They had the curious effect of making me hunger for more, and I did not want to wait long for another taste.

Thirst for the word

“Yocheved

According to the Bible, Jochebed[a] was a daughter of Levi[1] and mother of Miriam, Aaron and Moses. She was the wife of Amram, as well as his aunt.[2] No details are given concerning her life. According to Jewish legend, Moses's Mother is buried in the Tomb of the Matriarchs, in Tiberias. She is praised for her faith in God.[3],,

“No, our God is not limited in such a way. We do not worship idols. In the days of our forefathers, He talked with them, met with them in various ways, through dreams and visions. At times Elohim even appeared as a man and walked with them.”

“The name in our tongue means that he always has been and always will be the Almighty God.”

“Yahweh does things in his own time. He is preparing us.”

Locked in a cellar, guarded and chained to the wall, and laughing—I would never understand this girl.

Perhaps Pharaoh feared this Hebrew god. Perhaps we all should fear this god.

He was attacking each of our gods, one by one. This was no natural occurrence as the priests had assured us when the Nile had turned to blood. These were pointed, powerful attacks on the deities of our country.

Did he have authority over death, too?

Would Shira’s God listen to an Egyptian? How would I even pray to him, with no image to conjure in my mind, no temple to turn my face toward? No tribute. No offering. How could I possibly make him do what I needed him to do?

We must place our fate in the hands of a faceless god that I still was not convinced even existed, except in the minds of slaves.

Until Shira had told me of this heavy burden of her people, I had barely considered how many

slaves it had taken to build my beautiful city, or their misery in the hot sun each day under the cruel oversight of their masters.

“How can I believe something that I cannot see?”

goodness? Could a man who sold his daughter be counted among those who deserved the pleasures of the afterlife? For that matter, what of a daughter who did not grieve her own father?

A spike of hot anger shot through me. What if my precious brother, with all his talent and goodness, had not been allowed to live? How many other beautiful children were wasted, exposed to the elements for the sin of being born unwanted or sickly? How many artists? How many brilliant minds?

When people even in our own family doubted us as parents and told us to abort our son and now look at us. We are a strong, loving, god-fearing family and tbh I don't want anyone who wanted me to abort my son near him at all.,

“Shefu is your father, Kiya.

“Why would your god choose a prophet that can’t speak?”

But sometimes it seems to me like Yahweh chooses to work through the most unlikely of people.”

“Perhaps Adonai chose Mosheh to show us all this is not about Mosheh, but about Yahweh.”

“Yahweh is . . . not Pharaoh. He is . . . not . . . not a slavemaster. He came . . . for his children . . . trapped in slavery, to . . . set us free . . . and he protects us, even now.”

The man turned to me, his eyes burning with passion. “He c-c-created you . . . he knows you . . . and will . . . m-m-make himself known to you.” As his tongue tangled with the unwieldy words, spoken too quickly to temper the stutter, understanding dawned in my mind.

Mosheh.

So beautiful. This part of the story left me in awe with my mouth agape

My course was set. I had chosen to follow the Hebrews and their God and take my family on the path though the midst of the waters, wherever it may lead.

But here at the bottom of the sea, freedom beckoned, pulling me farther away from my chains. The tether that had seemed to bind me to Egypt had been severed by the breath of Yahweh.

But this god called Elohim, or Yahweh as I now knew him, asked for sacrifice not to please himself or to be appeased, but as a gift to his people, to cover their sins.

A man who cannot protect his own family . . . doesn’t feel like a man at all.”

Dad, Saafir.