Eve By Ali Noël

Would she ever escape the shame of it? 

Eve walked along the mighty Euphrates river and watched as the current swept by in frightening silence. She knew what lurked beneath the waters and, thanks to her, the peace she had once known amidst the Lord’s creation was nothing more than a memory. 

“Come, Cain,” Eve said to her wobbly-legged son. 

The curly-haired toddler promptly sat down on his bottom and refused to move, but pointed at the river. Eve shook her head. 

“It isn’t safe, little one,” she said sadly. 

Cain tilted back his head and began to cry. Huge, blubbering wails that grated on her already exhausted mind. She was due with her second child any day now, and even these short walks were becoming too difficult to manage. 

Eve ran a hand over her swollen belly and thought of Eden. Of its pristine waters, fragrant lilies and endless peace. Tears stung at her eyes as shame washed over her in the same way it had hundreds of times. What she wouldn’t give to go back and change what happened. To crush that foul serpent’s head beneath her own heel. To talk some sense into her foolishness. 

Why hadn’t Adam stopped her? 

Another prick of shame. Would she have listened if he did? 

She wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. What did it matter now? They both acted of their own free will. All too eager to satisfy their fleshly curiosity, their ungodly pride.

“Don’t eat that,” Eve warned her young son, who had reached out for some bitter herbs sprouting from the ground beside him. 

But young Cain yanked on a leaf and shoved it into his mouth. A second later his brown eyes widened, and he began to wail once more as he clawed at the chewed up herbs on his tongue. 

The irony wasn’t lost on her. 

Eve scooped him up with some difficulty. Her ripe belly made it harder to comfort Cain when he needed it. Ever since leaving Eden, she felt stretched so thin, even before bringing Cain into the world. How would she manage with two of them? 

“I tried to tell you,” she whispered through a stifled sob, “I wanted to spare you–” 

She stopped, overcome with emotion. 

To spare you from the pain. The discomfort. Because I love you and I know better. 

Eve let her tears fall alongside her weepy child. It had been nearly three years to the day since she and Adam were banished from Eden. Three years since their eyes were opened. What a frightening place the world had become. Filled with pain and danger and death. 

But more than anything, she grieved her broken communion with the Lord. If only she could have understood the magnitude of her decision. The thought of a life separate from God had been inconceivable then. And now, their time in the garden felt like a dream. A butterfly that flit through her fingers but refused to be caught. 

Eve had been sure of the Lord’s delight in her once. Could he still?

“No,” she muttered under her breath with a shake of her head.

She forfeited that privilege the moment her teeth tore the flesh of the forbidden fruit. 

But the Lord still spoke to Adam. From time to time he would come in from the fields and tell Eve of something God had said to him. She tried not to be envious. Instead, she was determined to raise her children in the ways of God. To teach and show them what she had seen and known of him in Eden. Kindness and gentleness. Patience and goodness. Faithfulness and peace. Self-control and joy. 

Mercy and grace. 

Eve knew it was by those alone she and Adam continued to live and breathe. While she may no longer walk with the Lord as companions, she knew he was all around, and that he alone held everything together. 

Cain fell asleep against her shoulder as she walked. Her belly ached beneath the weight of him, so she stopped beneath a towering cypress tree to rest in its shade. A warm wind blew as Eve peered up into the cloudless blue sky, and as it did, she let the tender stitches in her heart unravel once more. 

“I am overwhelmed, Lord,” she whispered through her tears. “This crippling shame and sorrow. A thousand times I have said it, but my heart remains as heavy as the day I forsook you. What is to become of me? My children? What hope do I have when I have failed so completely?” 

Cradling her head in her hands, Eve wept. She wept for herself. For her children and husband. For the world forever changed. 

She longed for restoration. For redemption and forgiveness. But how could such things ever come to pass? She had chosen her own selfish desires over the Creator of all things. This was her punishment. This endless separation from the true source of love and life. 

And she deserved it.

“Oh, Lord. How could you, the Creator of the universe, forgive what I have done? I cannot forgive myself.” 

Eve. 

She lifted her head, expecting to see Adam. But she and Cain remained alone in the sea of wavering grass and cypress trees. Another wind blew, even warmer than the last, and it felt as if an arm gently draped itself across her shoulders. 

Eve.

She peered around. The voice was faint, but familiar, though she dared not hope. 

And there, blooming beside her hand was a single white lily. Tall and beautiful and fragrant, with petals as smooth as her son’s young skin. 

Her favorite flower in Eden. 

Eve tilted her head toward the sky and clasped her hands over her heart. She closed her eyes and smiled as tears of sweet relief streamed down her face. Hope stirred within her, alongside another sensation she had not felt for some time. 

Peace. 

Ali Noël is mama of three, living in the glorious shadow of Mt. Rainier. When she isn’t having dance parties with her kids or whittling poems and stories, you can find her baking or searching for sunshine. You can follow Ali and her writing on Instagram at @the.authoress.life