People came from everywhere to congratulate Avraham and celebrate with him. No-one took any notice of the slavegirl and her son.
The resentment grew in Ishmael's heart. But as the little Yitzchak grew and began to walk, Ishmael would watch him and sometimes, he would get a very strange feeling. He thought he hated the boy but, underneath, deep in his heart, was a feeling of warmth. Could it be love, he wondered? After all, this child was his brother; they shared the same father, a father Ishmael loved deeply. There must be some kind of bond between them, surely? Was that the reason he wanted so much at times to reach out to the little one, to touch him, even to put his arm around him?
But Sara was not having any of that. She chased him away, time after time. So Ishmael resorted to teasing Yitzchak, whenever Sara was watching, just to pay her back. He would pull faces at him, or run past him and snatch away the thing Yitzchak was playing with. Sometimes the little boy would cry, but more often he laughed. He thought big Ishmael was very funny. Sara didn't think he was funny at all.
On the day of the big celebration, when Yitzchak was weaned, everything came to a head. She saw Ishmael teasing her child again, and though Yitzchak laughed at him, Sara's rage boiled over.
"Enough!" She screamed at Avraham. "Send them away! Now! That boy will never share the inheritance with my son. Get rid of them. I won't have them here anymore!"
Avraham stared sadly at her, his face pale. He turned and slowly walked away, toward the trees where he always went to talk to God. Ishmael, sitting behind his mother's tent, watched as Avraham got down with his face to the ground. He felt heartsore. He wished he hadn't been so foolish. It had only caused pain to his Abba. He didn't think Avraham would send them away, though. Sara had demanded it so many times before and he had never agreed.
So it was that Ishmael could not believe his ears when, early the next morning, his mother called him and told him.
"My lord Avraham says we must go, my son. We must leave here at once." "Imah! It cannot be! Where will we go? We have nothing!" His heart pounded with the shock. His mother's face was pale, but set. "My lord Avraham says his God has told him to send us away. He has given us some provisions. Here, I have put them together in this cloth. You will carry it for us. I will carry the waterskins." She wouldn't listen to any more of his arguments, but firmly put the bundle into his arms, took a last look round the tent and led the way into the desert that surrounded their camping place.
People came from everywhere to congratulate Avraham and celebrate with him. No-one took any notice of the slavegirl and her son.
