I always felt different.
I wasn’t treated any differently than anyone my age or my gender in my time but that didn’t matter. In my youth I was always referred to as Bethuel’s daughter or Laban’s sister by those outside of my family and the other maidens my age.
The two things that characterized me even at a young age were my love for Jehovah and my vivid and often reoccurring dreams. Knowledge of the Holy was often reserved for the male children but my brother and father had no problem with me sitting in on their lessons. My mother was rather apprehensive that I was ready to neglect my housework or recreation time with the other damsels to hear of Adam and Eve, Cain and Abel, Noah and the Great Flood and of the Tower of Babel. I would often sit and day dream of these people. People I had never met. I couldn’t help but feel that they too had been different, had felt differently. I loved God and I desired to have Him talk to me the same way that He spoke to Adam and Eve and to Noah warning him of the destructive flood that would come.
I remembering sitting at at my father’s feet to hear his lessons as far back as three years old. I started dreaming at the age of 9. I’m sure I had been dreaming all my life but when I was 9 the dreams became more clear and started to repeat a little more each time. I remember when I first told my mother because the dream had frightened me.
“Mother I saw a man’s face…in my sleep last night.”
“Who was he?”
“I…I…I don’t know.”
“What did he say to you?’
“He didn’t say anything. He just kept looking at me.”
“Oh child. Then why do you trouble yourself to mention such a trivial matter?”
“I…I…I thought it was important.”
“Because it was so real. So clear.”
“Rebekah it was only a dream.”
It was only a dream but even at 9 I knew there was more to it than that.