“And his mother used to make for him a little robe and take it to him each year when she went up with her husband to offer the yearly sacrifice.” (1 Sam. 2:19)
Every year Hannah wove a little robe.
A gift for the gift she gave back to God,
a blanket of love, for the prayed for babe,
warmth for the baby boy who she once nursed.
What did she feel when she saw him again,
embraced him, kissed him, tousled his dark hair?
Did sadness for lost days fill her with pain?
Anger at the cost of an answered prayer?
Did he flash that shy smile children retain
for a stranger, as they clutch mommy’s leg?
Was Hannah ever tempted to complain?
Why give, then take, the gifts for which we beg?
Dare we doubt the God who gave up his child,
for by his Son’s robe we are reconciled.
