And I also heard, as she heard. The Lord has not rejected me. My sin is not so great that God would cut me off. He can still find a place to dwell in my heart.

She turned and headed back to her husband, to her obedient son, and now her eyes were filled with tears for a different reason. For joy.

“Isaac,” she said. And would have said more, but he reached out a blind hand and touched her face and stilled her lips.

“You grew up in a deaf man’s house,” said Isaac, “but you found a way to make your father hear you. I was blind and deaf by my own stubbornness, but you found a way to make me see and hear. Forgive me for making it so hard for you. I thank God for you, Rebekah.”

She wrapped her arms around him and pressed her cheek into his chest and held on to him, the sound of his heartbeat in her ear, the warmth of his body against the skin of her face. I belong here, she thought. This is the place I was born to have. All our work is done, our sons raised to be the men they chose to be, and the holy writings and the priesthood of God have been passed on. Jacob will leave for another land and find a wife there and build his life without me now. My daughters will also marry and be gone. But I belong here. With my arms around this man, with the sound and smell and heat of his body surrounding me, with his voice in my ear, with his face and his hands and all his works and all the people who love him in my gaze forever. And when we both are dead, and our bodies are in the ground, I will still be at home with him forever.