Leah

She had dreamed these dreams for years — always familiar, yet always just out of reach, as though she could almost grasp them if she stretched far enough.

They felt so real that she could not tell if she was sleeping or awake. She walked through fields of golden grain, the stalks swaying gently in the breeze. Each field seemed to hold a season of her life.

In one, she was a child again — playing with her sister, running with the lambs, helping her mother bake bread. In the next, she and her sister giggled at the farmhands, whispering about the day they would marry.

Then the dreams began to change. She saw fields filled with children — as though she were watching the story of a family yet to be born.

She saw herself holding a baby — a baby crowned like a king, a baby who played fearlessly with lions, a baby who danced and worshiped the Almighty.

Then she entered the final field — the one that always left her trembling. Here, a baby died. This was the dream that woke her in the night and left her shaken for days.

Yet even this dream, as painful as it was, seemed to prepare her for what lay ahead.

It was those dreams that carried her through her first night as Jacob’s wife.

When she woke the next morning, her heart was heavy. The night before had been a blur. Her father had insisted she dress in her finest clothes, even giving her a special embroidered veil. He had placed bracelets on her arms and adorned her neck with loops of braided thread. She wasn’t prepared for what came next.

“You will go into the tent with Jacob,” her father told her firmly. “He is your husband. You will do your duty as a wife — and you will say nothing.”

It would have been foolish to argue. Still, she could not understand.

Most of the guests had gone home. She saw her father seize Rachel by the hand, pulling her toward their mother’s tent. Rachel cried out, pulling away from him, weeping, “No! No, Papa, no!” He covered her mouth, whispered in her ear, and her cries fell silent.

Leah took the veil with trembling hands and covered her face. She was used to it — she often wore it so no one would see her face too clearly, especially her eyes. One of them turned slightly, and people sometimes stared. So she obeyed her father and went into the bridal tent with Jacob, her heart pounding.

But when morning came, she knew Jacob had not known who she was. His anger was terrifying. She thought he might strike her, yet he showed great restraint. His face flushed red, the veins in his neck and temples throbbing, as he stormed out of the tent shouting for her father.

“Where are you, you snake? How could you do this to me? We had a deal. You cheated me!” His fists curled, shaking in rage.

Pale and trembling, Leah watched from the tent as Jacob’s outrage split the morning air. She had never felt so wretched, so alone. She had been part of a plot to deceive her new husband. Not only did he hate her, but now Rachel — her closest friend, her sister — hated her too.

The only thing that kept her from despair were the dreams.

A week later, Rachel became Jacob’s second wife. The animosity between them grew so thick it could almost be touched. Between the two sisters swirled venom, anger, hurt, pain, and distrust.

Then having babies became their focus — a competition. Who would have the first? Who would have the most? Leah was fruitful — six sons in all — while Rachel remained childless.

It was during the birth of her fourth son that the memory of the dream returned. Suddenly, she understood. This was why she was born. This was why she had to marry Jacob. This was why she had suffered so much.

This child was important. He carried within him the very promise of her dreams.

She named him Judah — a fitting name for this baby. And when he let out his first piercing cry, a strange, holy joy flooded her soul. She began to worship the Almighty right there in the birthing tent.

“Praise be to the Almighty!” she cried. “He has given me a child, and his name shall be called Judah!”

Somehow, she knew God would redeem her situation. She might never understand it all, but that was enough.

Years passed. Rachel finally bore her children — and then she died. The family endured tragedy after tragedy, yet Leah remained the quiet, dutiful wife. Never loved like Rachel, yet always faithful to Jacob.

Then, near the end of her life, the dreams returned one last time. But this time, they were no longer elusive. They were real.

She saw her son Judah, saw his lineage stretch through the generations, saw fields filled with kings — one after another — until she came to the last field.

Standing there, waiting for her, was the most magnificent man she had ever seen.

“Welcome home, Mama,” He said gently. “I am Jesus, the Lion of the tribe of Judah.”